Finding Infinity (Infinity Series)

by Layne Harper

The nurse says to Colin, “Do you have something to give Charlie?” Her use of the name that only Colin calls me temporarily throws me for a loop.

  Colin looks like a little boy who’s gotten caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “No,” he says as he tries to hide his left hand underneath him.

  She flashes me a knowing smile. “We had a deal. You could keep your ring until Charlie arrived, but now you have to turn it over.”

  “Baby, I’ll put it on my infinity necklace and it’ll stay next to my heart. As soon as you’re out of surgery, I’ll give it back to you.” I grab his hand pulling it out from underneath him, and kiss his ring finger.

  His eyes betray his annoyance as he stares at the poor nurse who’s just doing her job. He takes it off and hands it to me with a drunken huff. Colin watches me with hawk like eyes while I slip it on my necklace. “See. Safe and sound.”

  The surgeon comes in and motions for us to join him in the hallway. We look at the x-rays together and discuss the results of the MRI. I keep my emotions in check, and act like the doctor that I am. Fortunately, this is a pretty straightforward procedure. Colin will have more steel added to his body, but at least he’s kept it all on the same leg.

  Then it hits me. Colin’s not going to be able to drive for a while. I almost laugh out loud at the prospect of me having to drive him around again. It’s like how we met, but almost eleven years later. I can’t wait to tease him about this.

  I walk back into the surgical prep room and assure Colin that he’s in good hands. The anesthesiologist waits for the surgeon to give him the nod, then, he asks Colin to start counting backward from one hundred. Colin doesn’t make it to ninety-five. I brush one more kiss across his stubbled cheek before I leave him in the capable hands of my father and the surgeon.

  I head out to the waiting room that’s now filled with well-wishers. There’s Jenny, Brad, Carmen, Colin’s parents, Liza, Tyler, a ton of Cowboy’s staff, and about twenty players. Then, I notice police officers that have cordoned off part our section of chairs and couches.

  “What’s with all the security?” I ask.

  “They’re keeping Colin’s fans safely outside,” Jenny informs me with a wink.

  I walk to the bank of windows, and look down. It’s twilight, and there are fans as far as the eye can see, holding a prayer vigil outside of the hospital. Some have made signs wishing him a speedy recovery. Others are holding candles or their illuminated phones. I can hear them singing, but I can’t make out what song. There are probably seven different news cameras and reporters set up outside with their camera lights on and speaking into their microphones.

  I reach up, and touch my infinity necklace, and his wedding ring feeling the stones inside. I hope my husband is peacefully sleeping while the doctors make him whole again.

  Susan asks, “How’s my boy?”

  “Drunk, on the hospital’s finest. I reviewed the MRI and x-rays. The break was bad, but it’s not career-ending. He’s going to have a long road of recovery ahead of him before next season starts,” I use my doctor voice.

  John stammers, “Will he play football at the same level?”

  “As a medical doctor, I can say that the leg will never be what it was before the injury. Knowing Colin, though, he’s going to be just fine.” I smile. I leave out the part about what this means ten, twenty, thirty years down the road.

  Brad says, in the way that only Brad can, “I’ve heard that the cafeteria here offers straight from the farm produce, with only grain-fed beef, no preservatives, and desserts without calories. Shall we partake?” which sounds more like par—take.

  Jenny laughs, and says, “Brad you’re full of shit, but I’ll go. Caroline?”

  I let out a sigh. I don’t want to leave in case my dad comes out with early news, but I know that it’s going to be another couple of hours of waiting, and I haven’t eaten since this morning. “Sure. I could be persuaded to have a piece of calorie-free pie.” I acquiesce.

  We make our way to the cafeteria—Colin’s three musketeers. We each grab something to eat and choose a table in the corner. It strikes me that this is the first time that I’ve eaten out in months. Colin and I quit dining in public after the Espy Awards spotlight. I’m actually eating—in public—in a restaurant, and no one has asked for an autograph.

  Practical Pig, as Brad calls me, says, “So Jenny, Colin’s not going to be able to drive for a long time. You might have to add chauffer to your job description.”

  “I’m not driving Bertha,” she says horror stricken.

  “Of course you aren’t,” I nod my head in total agreement. “That truck only behaves for Colin, and now, apparently, his dad. I should be able to help, but I have a responsibility to the hospital.”

  “He’s going to be such a huge pain in my ass,” Jenny quips.

  “That he is,” I agree, as I take a sip of my Diet Coke. I’ve been trying to stay away from caffeine since we’re hoping to get pregnant, but after the day I’ve had I need something.

  Jenny pushes her fresh from the farm salad plate away from her and says with a very somber face. “Do you think that Colin will really recover from this, Caroline?”

  “Yeah. I do. Colin wants a Super Bowl. He’s going to work harder than anyone ever, and he will be the starting quarterback next season.” I sound much more confident than I feel.

  “I hope you’re right.”

  * * * *

  “You can come see him now,” Dad says.

  I follow him back through the series of mazes to the recovery area. They’re just wheeling him in from surgery. The recovery nurse is chatting away with Colin, telling him about her Thanksgiving plans. She’s going to visit her sister. I laugh, because recovery nurses are like hairdressers. They can talk to anyone about anything. It’s a gift. A calling, if you will.

  Colin is trying to talk to her, but he sounds more like a drunk who’s just on the verge of passing out. I walk over to him, and brush the matted waves off of his forehead. “So, I hear you’re as good as new.”

  “Really?” he asks, but it sounds more like “Real-we.”

  “Sure, baby. You’re just going to have to endure about three months of Jenny and me driving you around. That’s all,” I tease him, as I comb my fingers through his hair trying to tame the waves.

  “Ah…fuck me. Nurse, can you put me back under?” He jokes…I think?

  “The good news is that I get to be your personal doctor.”

  “I like you playing doctor,” he replies in a sloppy voice as he attempts to raise his eyebrows.

  “Oh…baby, I know that you do.”

  “Can I go back to sleep now?” he asks pathetically.

  “Nope. If you don’t stay awake then the nurse gets really scared, and she’ll call Doctor Jack Collins.”

  “Ah…that’s bad news. He’s the big, bad wolf. I’ll try to stay awake,” he reassures me as if this is the most important sentence ever spoken.

  “You also have to pee in a bedside pan if you want to leave recovery.”

  The nurse corrects me. “No. He just has to be awake enough to get transferred into his own room. They’re keeping him overnight.”

  “Well, big boy. Looks like you and me are shacking up in a hospital bed.” I raise my eyebrows suggestively.

  “Nooooooo,” he whines. “I want to go home.” Now he sounds like a belligerent drunk.

  “I’m not a doctor here. Just your wife. I can’t pull any strings, love. Plus, it might be fun,” I say with a sexy wink.

  “Y’all are so cute,” the nurse drawls. “Are y’all married?”

  Colin glares at her, and says, “None of your fuckin’ business.” Now, he’s a mean drunk.

  I laugh because he’s still so wasted. I turn to her and smile politely. “What Colin means to say is that I’m his wife, but we’re not sharing the news with the world.”

  She makes a motion of zipping her lips, and tossing away the key.

  I stay and visit with her, and hold Colin’s ha
nd as he begins to sober up, which also means that he starts to feel the pain more.

  After another hour, they transfer us to a room. Other than me, Colin’s not allowed visitors until he’s able to keep down an apple, because he refused to eat the crackers and empty his bladder. His stomach holds the apple and he uses the bed pan like a good patient.

  The nurse and I get him situated with his right leg elevated before I step outside and let his mom and dad go in to visit him. I hang in the hallway, giving them some privacy.

  Jenny informs me that the flowers are rolling in already. I ask her to donate the arrangements to the elderly patients, but keep the cards. Colin’s going to have a lot of time to personally write thank you notes.

  Next, the team’s media person pulls me aside, and asks how I want to field personal questions about Colin’s injury. I know that the team has already issued a statement on Colin’s condition, so her question catches me by surprise. I must look confused, because she begins to elaborate.

  Apparently, the media wants to know if I did the surgery, how involved I’m going to be with Colin’s rehab, and is he going to do his therapy in Houston at my father’s practice.

  “He just got moved to a patient room. Can we tell the media that it’s none of their business? I mean, I don’t even know when I get to take him home,” I reason. It just seems a little soon for me to be talking to them.

  “We’ll go radio silent until Colin’s ready to speak,” she confirms, in a most efficient manner. “Please mention to him that he’ll probably need to make a statement before he leaves the hospital.”

  “Why?” I ask biting my lip.

  “Doctor McKinney, the police estimate that there are over five thousand people outside, holding vigil for Colin. You may not think that his condition is anyone’s business, but his fans beg to differ,” she says this very matter-of-factly, and I get it. She represents the team.

  I walk to the end of the hall and look out the window. She’s right. The crowd has grown from earlier. They’re wearing Colin’s jersey making sure that we know that they care. I’m touched. These are the good fans, the ones who care about him. My eyes fill with tears. I want to personally give every one of them a hug.

  “Colin,” I call, as I burst into his room. “You should see outside of the hospital. It’s packed with your fans. Wearing your jersey. It’s awesome, baby. They’re sending you encouragement to feel better.”

  He flashes me his half smile. “I told you I was the Brad Pitt of football.”

  Dear lord. Colin-fucking-McKinney is back!

  * * * *

  Finally, at around midnight, everyone leaves Colin and me alone. Brad had gone to our home and packed us each an overnight bag. I’m grateful that I can brush my teeth, and change into sweats. It’s been a long, exhausting day.

  I help Colin get situated in bed, and I ask the night nurse to give him something to help him sleep. Since he’s refusing painkillers other than acetaminophen and another drug the surgeon quietly told me he’s had good results with, but that isn’t addictive, he’s going to need something to help him sleep.

  I make the couch in Colin’s room as comfortable as I can. Brad brought me my pillow, and our warm quilt. It’s not home, but I’m not leaving Colin’s side.

  I walk over to the bed and give him a good night kiss. “I love you. Sweet dreams,” I say, as I kiss the tip of his nose.

  He scooches over. “Crawl in, baby,” he says patting the stark white bed sheets.

  “Colin, you need to sleep. I’m not sleeping with you.” I begin to explain how important sleep is in the healing process.

  He cuts me off. “I only sleep when you’re next to me. Crawl in bed and snuggle me.”

  “Fine,” I agree. “But as soon as you’re asleep, I’m moving to the couch.”

  Under his breath, he mumbles, “Everything has to be a damn negotiation.”

  I ignore him and snuggle into his left side, resting my head on his chest. He uses the remote control attached to the bed to turn off the lights, and then wraps his large arm around me. With the room darkened, it feels more like home. I didn’t realize how clinical the fluorescent lights made it feel until they were turned off.

  “See, isn’t this better than the couch?” He sighs.

  “Yeah, baby. I’d always rather be next to you,” I agree. His heart is beating under my ear. It’s a beautiful sound—a lullaby— especially after seeing him lying on the field in such agony.

  Just when I think that he’s asleep, he whispers, “No championship season this year.”

  I’m not sure how to respond. He’s right, but I don’t know if we should discuss football right now. “This wasn’t your year.” That’s all I say. I know that I need to support him through this huge disappointment, so I let him lead the conversation.

  “No New Orleans and confetti falling down around us. I’m not getting any younger. I just can’t believe this happened.” He pauses, and I have to lean my head closer toward him to hear him continue. “I knew when the elevator doors opened and I saw you that this was going to be the best year of my life. Fate had brought us back together. We were going to win the Super Bowl together. What the fuck happened? It’s like I can’t have it all.” There’s an edge of controlled anger in his voice that I wasn’t prepared for.

  “Look, I’m not going to sugarcoat this. It sucks. It’s unfair. But, It could be so much worse though, honey. It could have been your knee. You’re going to come back from this injury. You’ve got next year, sweetheart.” I don’t know what else to say.

  “So fuckin’ close, baby. So fuckin’ close.” His voice is breaking.

  Is he crying? I reach up, and use my thumb to wipe the wetness off of his cheeks. He doesn’t need my reassurance for his football future right now. Colin needs to mourn the loss of the season.

  I hold him tightly around his waist, silently giving him permission to sob. His chest is heaving underneath my cheek and with each intake of breath my heart breaks a little more. At some point our tears begin to mingle into a river of sorrow, disappointment and angst. I pray that he’ll just close his eyes and give in to the sleep medication. Everything is always worse at night. Maybe, if he can sleep, he’ll see the glass half full side of the injury in the morning.

  When we’ve both cried out all of our tears, he says, “Maybe this happened so I can be home more, to help you through the first weeks of being pregnant.”

  For the second time today, I feel my heart shatter. We didn’t get pregnant this month, but I’m not telling him that right now. I want mourn for that loss with a fresh set of tears into his chest. I want this wonderful man to have the family and championship title that he dreams about. Fate can be so cruel sometimes.

  “Go to sleep, Colin.” I stroke his soft, damp chest hair. “Want me to tell you a bedtime story?”

  * * * *

  Three days later, Colin holds a news conference at the hospital. His doctors speak about his injury, which is now being called The Break Seen Around The World. Colin thanks his fans for their support. When he’s asked questions about me, he gives his standard answer: “I do not wish to comment on my relationship with Doctor Collins.” He says it in his “Aw, shucks” good ol’ boy way, so it softens the blow of denying the media the answers they want.

  Then some reporter asks about a photo that was illegally taken of Colin and me, sleeping in his hospital bed snuggled together. It was the night of the accident. We had just cried together, mourning the loss of his season. We were perfectly covered, but it’s still a very intimate picture. I was mortified when Brad showed it to me. I was asleep on Colin’s chest, and his arm was wrapped around me, holding me as if I’m a coveted child’s lovey. It’s really a beautiful picture, if we could get past the fact that someone snuck into his hospital room and took it. Then, they sold it to some website. Now, millions upon millions of people have seen us at one of the most vulnerable points of our life together.

  “The hospital has launched an investigation
to see who violated our privacy. I will sue.” Colin speaks in his not-so-nice voice, the one that makes me shiver. His jaw clenches in a most painful manner, and I see him opening and closing his fists. He refuses to answer any more questions and shoots pleading eyes my direction.

  I drive Colin home in the Escalade. He complains incessantly about my driving, and swears that I’m hitting bumps on purpose. I inform Mr. McKinney that he’s now got a whole lot more time to spend with me in the car, so he’d better get used to my chauffeuring skills.

  He flashes me his half smile, and says, “Baby makin’ time.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Colin

  The Dallas Cowboys have said how pleased they are with the progress that Colin McKinney has made. The bone is healing, and Colin is doing everything that the team asks of him. He’s still at most practices, and works out regularly with the team’s trainers. Since Colin’s injury, the team has lost two games, but they’re still in in the hunt for a play-off spot. Tucker Wilson, backup quarterback, has looked good in his starts, and the team seems to have rallied around him. However, they obviously miss the veteran leadership of McKinney.

  “Come on over here, Mrs. McKinney, and show me how we properly say good morning in this house.” I smirk at Charlie. She’s flushed from her morning run, and looking edible.

  “For the love of God, man. Give me a minute to catch my breath and drink some water.” She pants.

  I love her. Fucking head-over-heels, googley-eyes, and all in love with that woman. I’ve crutched my way to the living room couch so I can get a better view of her stretching. “Open your legs a little wider, babe. I might be able to see my favorite part.”

  She picks up a pillow and tosses it at me. “You’re in a good mood this morning…” She raises an eyebrow, “… considering.”

  “It’s not every day that I get to beat off to porn in a doctor’s office.” I flash her my half smile that makes her panties wet. I know it does, but she won’t admit it for the world.