The Outside Child

by Tiffany L. Warren

  “Where do the wives want to go?” I ask. I play along with this, even though I wish someone had given me the script.

  “Maybe Cabo. Somewhere we can let our hair down, have too many cocktails, and not care about the boys trying to keep us in line.”

  I feel myself blinking, because I don’t even know what to say to this. I don’t want to drink too many cocktails with this woman, or any of the Knights wives. Why? Because they’re not my friends.

  “Cabo sounds nice. I love a good beach, and a good cocktail,” I say.

  My improvisation skills are excellent. This is going to make some good TV, even though it’s not real.

  Marilyn takes one of the empty seats at the table with us. I notice that Joseph decided to stay over at the table with my parents. He’s probably trying not to be on TV, too.

  “Julie, do you think there’s any room for team moms on this excursion?”

  Julie laughs. “Only you Marilyn. You’re hardly a mom. You’re one of the girls.”

  “We haven’t had a girls’ day lately, but I’d like for you and I to go to a spa and have facials sometime soon.”

  “I feel like there’s a hidden agenda there,” Julie says. “I know you, Marilyn.”

  I snicker under my breath. I don’t think this was part of Julie and Coach Wyatt’s script, but no one is going to put a TV camera within a hundred feet of Marilyn and her not figure out a way to make it about her.

  “Not a hidden agenda. I want us to partner again. You know I’m so passionate about research for heart disease in children these days, because of Quincy.”

  “Oh, absolutely,” Julie says. “I’m so glad you brought that up, because I want to talk to Chenille about this very topic. The Knights wives are dedicating our fall fund-raiser to heart disease. We’re going to do a twilight walk through downtown Dallas. I think we can raise at least two million dollars.”

  “That is fantastic,” Marilyn says.

  I don’t say anything, although both of them are looking at me. I don’t care. They’re just going to have to edit this part out.

  “We’d like for you to be the hostess,” Julie says.

  “Who, me?” I ask.

  “Yes, you, dear.”

  “Oh.”

  My petty level is on extraordinary right now. I try to make eye contact with Brayden, who is off camera talking to Coach Wyatt about something. Did he know they were going to do this to me? Was this his idea?

  I stand, because I’m about to go and ask him.

  “I’ll be right back,” I say.

  “But the fund-raiser,” Julie says.

  “I’ll be right back.”

  In my mind, I start composing the words with which I’m going to tell Brayden all the way off. I’ve strung together a very exciting and creative group of curse words that I’m going to lay on Brayden’s entire being, because he and his crew have turned my baby’s birthday into a circus, and I’m not here for it.

  I can almost feel the cameras on my back as I take wide strides in Brayden’s direction. Hopefully they’re getting a good shot of my booty, because I’ve been working out.

  But then, one of the red-shirted party staffers comes running through the patio door, and she damn near knocks me over. The alarm on her face chills me to the core.

  “It’s Quincy. He’s collapsed. Lisa is doing CPR and the paramedics are on the way.”

  Everything is forgotten. Cameras, Brayden, Julie, Marilyn. Nothing matters except my son.

  I take off running.

  Chapter 40

  Brayden’s heart pounded so loud that he was sure everyone around him could hear it. But drowning out the sound of his thudding heartbeat was Chenille’s scream. Brayden didn’t have enough breath to let out a noise, but Chenille covered for both of them.

  Quincy was in Lisa’s arms when Brayden and Chenille approached. Quincy was drenched with sweat, his breathing labored (at least he was breathing), and his little limbs hung limply.

  The other children, who looked traumatized by the chaos, were being herded into the children’s tent.

  “What happened?” Chenille yelled at Lisa. “You were only gone for ten minutes.”

  “H-he was fine. He was feeding the goat a handful of the little food pellets, and laughing with all of the other children. Then, in the next moment he collapsed. At first, I didn’t feel a pulse. I thought he had cardiac arrest. Then, I did CPR, and his heart and breathing started again.”

  “His heart stopped?” Brayden asked. “You think his heart stopped?”

  “I couldn’t find a pulse.”

  The paramedics arrived in a flurry of activity, putting a stop to Brayden and Chenille’s interrogation of Lisa. Not that they were angry with her. Whatever happened wasn’t her fault, and she had probably saved Quincy’s life.

  “Do you want to ride in the ambulance with him?” Brayden asked Chenille.

  Chenille didn’t reply. She didn’t seem to be listening to him at all. She was on autopilot, and all she seemed interested in was what was happening to her son.

  Chenille climbed inside the back of the ambulance without asking for permission or being invited. She probably would’ve fought anyone who tried to keep her from getting in there next to Quincy.

  There wasn’t enough room for Brayden, so he ran back toward the house to get his truck. He had to pass the patio, so Marilyn screamed out his name. There was no time to stop and explain things to her. She had to find out what was happening later. Besides, he had nothing to tell her. He had no idea what was happening himself. He just knew that he needed to get to the hospital.

  When Brayden got to Baylor University Medical Center, the same hospital where Quincy had had all of his surgeries, he went straight to the emergency room. No one had to give him directions. He knew this hospital like the back of his hand.

  Chenille was standing in front of the admission desk. There were chairs there, but Brayden knew she wouldn’t sit. She wouldn’t relax until Quincy was okay.

  “Babe . . .”

  Chenille spun around and stared at Brayden. She had a wild look in her eyes. “This is my fault. He was so excited about the p-party. I shouldn’t have had all of those activities. It was too much. He can’t take too much.”

  Brayden encircled her in his arms. “Shhh . . . we don’t know what happened yet. It’s not your fault.”

  Chenille sobbed into his chest. “It’s supposed to be over, Brayden. He’s supposed to be okay now. I can’t keep going through this.”

  “We’re going through this together, babe. Me, you, and Quincy. We’re going to be fine, you’ll see.”

  Brayden finished the paperwork for admittance, and as he led Chenille to the waiting area, Dr. Benjamin met them. He was wearing what looked like golf pants under his lab coat. He’d probably had the day off, but that was ruined now. Duty called. He answered.

  “Brayden and Chenille, I sure hate to see you all under these circumstances.”

  “Same here, doctor. Do you know what’s wrong with Quincy? Did he have a heart attack? Cardiac arrest?” Brayden asked.

  “I’m still running additional tests, but from what I’ve already seen, I don’t think he had a heart attack or cardiac arrest. I think Quincy has an arrhythmia.”

  “What is that?” Chenille asked.

  “Sometimes his heart skips a beat. The ten-minute test I just ran on the heart monitor seems to confirm this, but I want to be sure to make the diagnosis.”

  “So, what is the treatment for an arrhythmia? Does he have to have more surgery?” Brayden asked.

  “Maybe not. Depending on the severity, we can monitor it without surgery. Sometimes even without medication. You’ll just have to be mindful and watchful. If it is severe enough, then it could require a pacemaker.”

  “Another surgery,” Chenille said. “You’re going to crack my baby’s chest open again. Can he get any peace in his life? Oh, my God!”

  “Try to stay calm, Chenille,” Dr. Benjamin said. “Remember what I
asked you about your prayers? They’re still important. Even now. The last thing I want is to open Quincy’s chest again. He’s had enough pain in his life.”

  “Prayers? Prayers?” Chenille shrieked. “Why won’t anyone answer this question for me, huh? Why did God do this to my baby in the first place? I’m gonna keep praying and God’s the one who did this?”

  Again, Chenille sobbed into Brayden’s chest. Unlike his wife, Brayden was still praying. He didn’t know how long he’d have to keep asking God the same thing, but he wasn’t tired of asking yet. He’d have to send up enough prayers for them both.

  Chapter 41

  Brayden sat in Coach Wyatt’s office, nervous about what he was about to say, but knowing that he had no choice. Brayden was going to take several months off from football, whether Coach Wyatt liked it or not.

  “Coach, my son is sick again. I’m going to miss training camp, and probably several games.”

  Coach Wyatt closed his eyes and sighed. “Brayden, you know I support you, and I’ve been praying for little Quincy every day—”

  “I appreciate you.”

  Brayden cut Coach Wyatt off mid-sentence because he could hear the “but” coming. There shouldn’t be a “but.” There should only be, Go ahead, Brayden. Take all the time you need.

  “But the team needs you,” Coach Wyatt said. “We’ve got young, young running backs on the bench. None of them are ready to step up and fill your shoes.”

  “I’m aware of that, Coach Wyatt.”

  “We’re on our way to another Super Bowl.”

  Brayden inhaled sharply and exhaled. “Aware of that, too.”

  “Are there not doctors taking care of Quincy around the clock? Do we need to bring in another expert? Another cardiologist?”

  “No. Dr. Benjamin is the best in the country. He did all of Quincy’s surgeries. He’s the reason my son is alive today. No one is better than him.”

  “Why don’t you just sit out training camp and see what happens? Don’t make the decision to miss any games quite yet. Your son may get better, and then we won’t even have to have this conversation.”

  “All of this is hard on Chenille, Coach. She needs me by her side for all of it. She needs to know that I’m going to be there.”

  “And what about the team? What about our Super Bowl hopes?”

  Brayden stood firm. “I have no greater responsibility than to my family, Coach. I would support you if you had to make a similar decision.”

  “That’s the difference between me and you, son. Football makes my life possible. My whole family knows that.”

  Silence stood between the two men like a thick fog. Neither gave an inch in their perspective on Brayden’s very personal choice.

  Finally, Brayden spoke. “Coach, I will let you know my son’s progress. Perhaps you’ll want to send cameras to the hospital. Maybe you’ll want the fans to see how much you support me in this time of need.”

  “Once you quit on the team, the fans quit on you. If we don’t make it to the Super Bowl this year, because of your little hiatus, the fans will never forgive you.”

  “Well, since I don’t lie down every night next to them or wake up to their beautiful faces, I’m going to have to say, I don’t give a damn about being judged by the fans. Not this time.”

  Brayden stood, wishing he had a better feeling about the outcome of things. He would be a free agent next season, and while his future with the Knights had never seemed to be in jeopardy before, he couldn’t tell what might happen now.

  Coach Wyatt’s attitude made Brayden regret all the times he’d risked Chenille’s anger by doing something Coach Wyatt wanted. This man didn’t seem to care about Brayden or what was important in his life.

  No, that wasn’t correct. Coach Wyatt did care, but his concern had at least one condition. That was Brayden putting the Dallas Knights first.

  Unfortunately, this time, that was a condition that Brayden was unable to meet.

  Chapter 42

  Brayden sits at the edge of our bed, staring at the TV. His least favorite channel these days: ESPN.

  Today, he goes back to practice and rejoins the team, halfway through the season. Right now the Knights have three wins and five losses, and are last in their conference. It’s gonna take a miracle for them to come back and go to the playoffs now. They’d have to win the rest of their games.

  The entire season seems to be resting on Brayden’s back. I don’t like it. I thought football was supposed to be a team sport. How can one person make or break an entire season?

  The reporter on the TV is asking the same thing.

  “Will Brayden Carpenter be able to save the Knights from an embarrassing season?” the voice blares from the screen.

  Brayden shakes his head. “Did Quincy nurse this morning?”

  “Yes. Like a champ.”

  “Good. I’m glad he’s finding some comfort in it.”

  I don’t tell Brayden this, but Quincy has been nursing more since he collapsed during his birthday party. Several times a day now, almost as many times as he did before he started eating solid food. I never deny him, but I think something beyond physical happened to my baby that day.

  It was like the first good thing that ever happened to him was snatched away before he even got a chance to enjoy it. I think it hurt him physically, mentally, and emotionally. Nursing him seems to be the only thing that keeps him calm.

  “Do you think everything is going to be okay with the team?” I ask.

  Brayden shrugs. “Maybe. Maybe not. They’re playing like trash. Wilson is throwing interceptions left and right. Jarrod and the defensive line are terrible, too. It’s like they all decided to take a break when I took a break.”

  Maybe there was something to what Coach Wyatt had said when he’d called me on the phone, begging me to help him change Brayden’s mind about taking time off. He’d said that Brayden was the heart and soul of the team. Maybe he was.

  But he was the heart and soul of our family, too, so I refused Coach Wyatt. For once Brayden was choosing our son over the team. He thought he was supportive before, but I’ve been carrying the burden while he played football.

  Maybe that’s why he was so good. He left all his stress on the field, and that equated to wins.

  Luckily, Quincy hadn’t needed surgery. Dr. Benjamin said the arrhythmia was not as severe as he initially thought and that it was probably more the heat and excitement of the day that made Quincy collapse. Yet Dr. Benjamin still wanted to monitor Quincy for a few months to see if he deteriorated. If he did, they would consider putting in a pacemaker.

  “How do you feel about going back to work?”

  Brayden sighs. “You know a few of the guys are angry with me for taking time off. I think the only friend I have left on the team is Jarrod.”

  “They’ll be cool as long as y’all start winning again.”

  “Right.”

  Brayden turns around and rubs my ankles and calves. It makes me glad that I didn’t get out of bed and get dressed yet. I’ll take a spontaneous massage anytime.

  “How do you feel about not going to work?” Brayden asks.

  This is a tough question to answer. I do miss work. I’ve been thinking about the lost opportunity with Klein Newton, but I’m okay with being here for now. I keep thinking about what might’ve happened had I been in New York when Quincy collapsed. I just am not ready to be apart from him yet.

  “Eventually, I want to go back. Kara has been maintaining some of my Atlanta clients, and I am thinking of ways to move more to product development as opposed to doing the artistry. That will keep me home. Luckily, Dallas is a good location to make that happen.”

  “Thank you.” Brayden crawls up to the top of the bed and kisses me. “I have to go. I know reporters are going to be at practice. Wish me luck.”

  “You don’t need it.”

  “You’re right. I’m blessed.”

  He always says that. No matter what we’re going through, no matter
what happens to Quincy, he says we’re blessed. I don’t know if I necessarily share this same opinion.

  While the status of our blessedness may be up in the air, there is one thing that no one can dispute. We are survivors.

  Chapter 43

  The Dallas Knights didn’t make the playoffs. Brayden felt like everyone blamed him: the fans, Coach Wyatt, and even his teammates. Usually, the team had a getaway after a losing season to try to regroup and figure out how to start again for the next year. But not this year. Coach Wyatt was so heartbroken about not having a shot at another Super Bowl ring that he didn’t host the getaway.

  Jarrod seemed to be the only one left on Brayden’s side, so he was over visiting Brayden’s man cave like old times. Before marriage and sick children.

  “Man, I’m glad this season is over,” Jarrod said as he cracked open his bottle of beer.

  “I know. I just keep feeling like it’s my fault we didn’t go to the playoffs.”

  “And that’s exactly what Coach Wyatt wants everybody to believe, but it ain’t your fault. What if you had gotten hurt? That bench was trash.”

  “I felt guilty as hell every week when I watched the games.”

  “One player leaving shouldn’t turn a winning team into a losing team. This season is on all of us. And if one of his kids had almost died, he would’ve done the same thing.”

  “You think so?”

  Jarrod took a swig and slammed his beer down on the table. “He sure would. ’Cause he’s a damn human and father. But you don’t get to be a human. You belong to the Dallas Knights.”

  Brayden shook his head. He hadn’t even viewed it from that perspective. He’d only thought Coach Wyatt’s thirst for winning was the impetus for him trying to block Brayden taking leave from the team.

  “I don’t belong to them. Not anymore. You either. We’re free agents.”

  Jarrod nodded hard. “Damn straight. And I’m weighing all my options. Especially since I got my Super Bowl rings. I can go wherever I want. To whatever team gives me the fattest paycheck.”

  Brayden had never even thought about playing anywhere else besides Dallas. He’d been a Dallas Knights fan since he was a little boy. He’d only wanted to go to college in Texas, because he’d have a better opportunity to get face time with the Knights.