Marina Paulson begged me to open my eyes, and when I finally managed to do so, I was surrounded by darkness. I had never been so scared in all of my life. I gripped my mother’s hand to the point of pain. She shrieked, and I instinctively let go. My father was by my side and telling me to calm down, saying that I would be alright. But how could I be alright if I couldn’t see?
A neurologist had been flown in from Johns Hopkins. He was said to be the best in his field. Dr. Samuel Briggs was flashing a light into my eyes, and I began to slowly see it as he examined me. He told me that what I was experiencing was just temporary on account of the blunt force trauma I took to my head. Concussions were part of the package of playing, and most of the time I dealt with it and nothing ever happened…until now.
Over the span of twelve long hours, my vision slowly returned. I had to stay for a few days for observation while more scans were being performed on me. The day Dr. Briggs entered the room with my films was when I knew my NFL career was over. His expression said it all, and if it wasn’t him, I saw it on my father and my two brothers, Andrew and Cameron, who left their teams to be with me after my accident. My coach and agent were also there and wearing the same sullen look. Whatever happened to wearing a poker face? Their expressions were all the same, and for a brief second, I wished I was still in the dark.
“Come on now, what is this, a funeral?” I said to lighten the mood, but my joke fell on deaf ears.
“It’s good that you are in lighter spirits, Jacob. It will help with what I have to tell you.” Dr. Briggs said. “I’m so sorry, Jacob, but the scans show what I expected. You suffered another hematoma surrounding the occipital nerve. The swelling has gone down, and you have no bleeds, which is a positive sign, but you do have scar tissue from previous injuries, which is not so good.”
“But I’m okay now, right? I see just fine, and my head is fine. When can I be released? I’m playing in New York this weekend,” I asked with hope in my voice. It was all I had to hang onto.
Their faces had fallen again, especially my father’s. Dr. Briggs placed the scan on the light to show me what he was trying to explain.
“You see this right here, Jacob? This is where your now healed hematoma presented, and here and here are patches of healed scar tissue. Your brain simply cannot take another hit like the one you just went through. I’m sorry, son, but your days of playing professional football—or any other physical sport—are over. Another harsh trauma like this and you will surely go blind.”
The room was silent after that. Dr. Briggs again gave me his apologies, shook my father’s and coach’s hands and made his way out of the room. My brothers were looking at me with dumb as fuck expressions. I wanted to scream at them, but they took the hint and left with my sobbing mother.
My father stayed, and it was back to business. He was not only my father, but my lawyer as well. I still had two years on my multi-million dollar contract. I would be paid out on that contract, millions of dollars to be banked.
I had just received the worst news of my life, and there was my agent in the room still working deals for me. I would still have my endorsements, and although I wasn’t playing, I could still be part of the game. I could coach, broadcast, the choice was mine.
But I respectively declined it all and declared that I was done. The hit I took ended my football career, but I still had options, and with a Super Bowl ring on my finger, I already got the brass ring—no pun intended.
I felt it was time to move on. I went through the stages of grief when it came to my football career, but I fortunately still had my sight and plenty of money and I wasn’t even twenty-five yet. I had my charity work through the United Way, and I also ran a football camp for kids who couldn’t afford to go on their own. I’ll never forget the high I felt when I was playing the game, but I also knew I was given a miracle from God himself. I still had my sight, and I wasn’t going to take anything for granted.
One thing that was tougher than walking away from a successful football career was finding and having someone so perfect for so short a time, only to have her taken away just as quick. I grieved for so long for Minela. Hell, I’m still grieving! I lived in my own private hell, and I never wanted my hurt to touch my family, so I stayed away and concentrated on my work.
That same work has brought me here today. That same work has the potential of hurting the people I loved and vowed to protect. It was all too calculated, though. Wade and Marino’s plan felt off from the very beginning. This was why I needed my father. He had contacts all over the world, and I knew there was more to this Marino guy than meets the eye.
I walked in through the vast lobby where a team of security personnel awaited me. I presented my official FBI wallet and was granted a visitor’s badge. One of the guards recognized me immediately from my playing days. I wasn’t that guy anymore and almost resented anything to do with my old life, but I indulged the guard for about a minute.
“No, I don’t wear my Super Bowl ring. Who knows—maybe if New England or New York win next year’s big game, then perhaps you can view one on the hand of either one my brothers.”
“I hope so, man. I have followed the famous Paulson trio for years now. This game misses you,” the guard said as he smiled through his pleasantries.
“Again, thank you, but I do need to get upstairs. If you please, can you keep my arrival here private? I really can’t afford to be stopped again.”
“Of course, sir. Sorry to have taken so much of your time. Like I said, I’m a fan.”
I shook his hand and said, “You didn’t. I just need to visit with my father.”
He escorted me to the bay of elevators, and I took it directly up to my father’s fortieth floor office. I was greeted by a floor manager, who led me to my father’s office. His assistant, Claudia, was waiting for me.
“Do my eyes deceive me, or is the great Jacob Paulson actually standing before me?”
She winked, and then I took his longtime right hand gal into my arms.
“Oh, you bear of a man! The famous Paulson welcome. Put me down! I usually have to fight off your brothers with a stick, but now you too?”
“You look wonderful, Claudia. How have you been?”
“I’m good, love. Really good. How are you? It’s been a long time. I guess the last time I saw you was at…oh my goodness! I’m so sorry, Jacob.”
“My fiancée’s funeral? Was that what you were going to say? It’s okay, my friend, don’t be sorry. That was a long time ago, and it only proves how long I’ve been away.”
“Your father misses you. He’s going to freak when he sees you. I’m sorry, Jacob, but he’s out right now at a meeting but should return within the next half hour,” Claudia said as she looked down to her watch.
“That’s fine. Would it be alright if I waited for him in his office? And please don’t tell anyone including my father that I’m here. I prefer to surprise him.”
“Okay, just please don’t give him a heart attack. He’s a great boss, and we love him.”
“I love him too, and I promise I’ll go easy on the old man.”
“Don’t let your mother hear you say that, son.”
“My lips are sealed.”
I gave her one more hug and made my way into dad’s office. For an office being located in one of the most prestigious buildings in California, it had a sense of home to it. It was modestly decorated with years of awards, family pictures, and I even noticed a painting by my late Aunt Grace. Pangs of guilt pounded in my heart, as I continued to take in my dad’s lifetime of memories and achievements. He was a man of honor, a respected and natural born leader with unmeasurable amount of integrity. He had many humanitarian awards in his name, as he dedicated his life to public service. I’m sure I was making him sound like an anointed saint, but that was how he raised us.
When it came to his sons, he wanted us to obtain a different type of glory…football. To have his triplet sons all make it to the NFL was any father’s dream come true. I t
hought my father would be disappointed in my choice not to remain in the game after my injury, but he never was. He supported my decision and all that followed. I was a grown man, and I was the only one responsible for my happiness.
Living this life as a rogue FBI agent was not in my plan, but it was what kept me going for all of these years. Maybe it was the adrenaline rush. Sure, it was different from how I felt when I was playing football, but the rush nonetheless was the same. When a target was in sight, I set my aim and fired. There was nothing more satisfying than when I opened and closed a case successfully.
I only wished that were true for Minela. We never found her killer or the reason behind it. There’s a proverbial saying: “Vengeance is more satisfying when exacted in cold blood.” There was a time when I wanted just that, but it nearly destroyed me.
And now, after all of this time, this guy Marino attacks all of my vulnerabilities with the mere mention of her name. Wade said that I passed his test, but I failed Marino’s miserably. I don’t show that side to anyone, especially colleagues and superiors. What the hell was I thinking going after Marino the way I did? It was reckless and very careless on my part.
I didn’t lose myself in booze, drugs, or any other recreational vice to ease my pain. I just went numb and remained this empty vessel for too many years to count…until I met Zoey. She awakened my senses, all of them. A part of me wanted to find her, tie her to my bed, and show her how much she excited me. To love on her. To own her sexy body, and to make her scream my name and tell me that she was mine, and mine alone.
Why this girl?
Why now?
Professionally speaking, I was on top. As for my personal life…I thought I was doing a great job living under the radar, not giving too much away. Tenley unsuccessfully tried to get me to open up about my life when we were in New York, but I evaded her questions. I had that down to a science by now. And now I was in this fucking city with these corrupt agents that wanted me to be a pawn in their chess game to take down Jack.
The road to revenge was paved with many potholes, and what lies ahead still remained to be seen. I tried with every fiber of my being not to travel down that road, but this case seemed to be pulling me in.
Confucius said it best: “Before you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves.”
A light tap on the door and Claudia walked through.
“Jacob, I just wanted to let you know that your father has arrived and is making his way up here. Do you still intend on surprising him?”
“You can just tell him that his next appointment is waiting in his office, and I’ll take it from there.”
“Very well. Are you okay, Jacob?” Claudia asked me with concerning eyes.
“I’m not and haven’t been for a very long time. This is one of the reasons why I’m here. I need my father.”
“Jacob!?!”
We both turned to see my father standing in the threshold of his office, looking like he’s seen a ghost. I might as well have been considering the length of time I’d been away. He had tears in his eyes but none that fell. He just dropped his briefcase to the floor and made quick strides over to me.
“Is it really you, son? I’m not being punk’d right now by one of your brothers?”
His remark made me laugh, because that is something that Cam or Andrew would do. I didn’t have to say anything. I just took my father into one of our bear hugs, and he knew it was me. Claudia made a discreet exit and closed the door behind her.
“I’m afraid to let you go, son, out of fear that I’m dreaming.”
“Dad, you can lighten the hold you have on me. I can assure you that I’m real, and I’m not going anywhere.”
And with that, he punched me in my arm for safe measure.
“Ow! Old man, me standing in front of you is not proof enough?”
“Watch your mouth and choice of words,” my father retorted. “I am not old—far from it, son. And you deserved that punch and so much more. Do you even know how long it’s been since these eyes have seen yours in the flesh?”
He gestured to his face, and his elation over seeing me had shifted into anger. I couldn’t blame him, it had been a long time.
“Dad, please? I need you.”
“So you’ve said. Excuse me for a moment,” my father said as he walked around his desk and pressed the intercom. “Claudia, please cancel the rest of my day. I do not wish to be interrupted.”
“Yes, sir. Already taken care of, and I’ve ordered lunch for you and Jacob.”
“Thank you, Claudia.”
“My pleasure, sir.”
I watched my father remove his jacket and loosen his tie. He was a fair man, and I knew he would listen to what I had to say, but there was hurt behind his eyes—a hurt I put there with my absence. The Paulson family never minced words with each other, nor turned their backs on one who needed our love, support, or help. And now I’m here, asking for all of those things and so much more.
“Look, dad, I know my sudden arrival has probably left you in a state of shock, but I really need your advice. You may be the only one I can turn to.”
“Jacob, our door has never been closed to you or to your brothers. First off, you need to stop beating the hell out of your conscience and just forgive yourself.”
“That’s not the advice I came here asking for, and that’s easier said than done.”
“It is easy, son. You just have to allow yourself to do it. Put one foot in front of the other, and just forgive. I’m not going to pretend to truly understand what you’ve been through. I don’t think anyone can unless they have faced it themselves. Grief knows no bounds, and if you still feel it, then feel it, but also lean on the people who love you. Minela—oh, that sweet girl—would not want you to be living like you’ve been.”
“And how have I been living, dad? You weren’t there! She died in my arms, and I could do nothing to save her. She took a fucking bullet for me, and I still don’t know who’s responsible for it. Her death is on my hands, because that bullet was meant for me, I know it. I had everything going for me and didn’t have to prove a goddamn thing to anybody. But I took risks, worked the hardest cases, and for what, dad? A better title? A pay grade I don’t need? It all seems so fucking futile now.”
“Jacob, please talk to me. I can’t help you unless you allow me.”
“I’m here, aren’t I?”
“You are, but you still haven’t told me the reason behind your visit. Or is this just a drop-by, where you state your business and skulk out the door without letting anyone else know you’re here? What about your brothers? Your mother!?! Did you think of her when you were working the streets of New York taking out the bad guys? Oh yes, I’ve read the papers. Another notch on the belt, taking down not one, but two Bornarelli’s and dismantling a major New York crime family.”
“Are you finished? Because I’ve already had one reminder today on my career record. I don’t wish to hear it again from my father. Dad, this is my job, and it’s what I have to keep me going. It’s practically all I had when I lost Minela.”
“That’s bullshit, and you damn well know it. You have your family! We are right here; we’ve always been. It was you who shut us out. Why son? Why?”
“I’m sorry, dad. When my football career ended, I didn’t know what was going to become of me. And then you gave me advice and guidance like you always did, and I picked myself up and moved on. When I decided to change course and pursue law enforcement, you supported me one hundred percent and never once questioned my choices. So why ask why now? I never meant to hurt you or mother, but when Minela died, she took a piece of me with her. And believe me dad, I wasn’t the only one who shut down and slowly retreated from the rest of the world.”
I continued, “Minela’s family is no better off. Her father is now retired after taking an extended leave of absence. Her mother had a complete breakdown, then a stroke followed shortly after. Her brothers went about their lives, still fighting the good fight, but they
were not the same men anymore. That’s what grief does, dad. Believe me, I wasn’t the only one that checked out, but I’m here now, and if you give me a chance, I will tell you the reason.”
“I’m sorry, Jacob. I certainly did not want our reunion to begin like this. I’m just happy to see you and so damn angry at you all at the same time.”
“I get where the anger is coming from, and I will apologize a thousand times until I can earn your forgiveness and trust again.”
“You never lost it, son. I can assure you of that.”
“I love you, dad.”
“And I you, son. Now, let’s get some food in us and knock back a few cold ones.”
“I think I might need something stronger than beer.”
“No worries, son. I’m fully stocked.”
We ate mammoth-sized steak burgers and chatted about the easier subjects, football always the best subject to drink beers over.
“Okay, son, you’ve had enough time avoiding the reason why you’re here. Spill it!”
I wiped my mouth on the linen napkin and placed it back on the table. Looking at my father with eyes that matched his, I felt like I was about to be scolded for breaking the neighbors window with my baseball. His gaze never broke, and this look told me that he was done with waiting. He wanted answers. Where do I begin? I let out a deep breath and just blurted it out.
“Dad, I’m here in California for work. When I received the call that my next assignment was going to be out here, I was excited at the fact that I would have an opportunity to see all of you again. There will never be enough apologies I could say that would erase all the time I’ve shut you out, but I also know that I have an amazing family who will forgive me without question. Is that still true?” I asked my father.
“You know it is, son, and we understand why you needed your space to grieve over Minela and find your way again. I’m not sure if you’ve done that yet, but we’ve always been here. What your brother went through with Nicolette should show you that we Paulsons always stick together, no matter how serious the problem. This is who we are. This is who you are.”
An Unfinished Life Page 3
