Page 6 of The Other Side of Wild
“You don’t need to apologize, Abs. I wasn’t mad at any of you; I was embarrassed.” It’s the truth: eighteen years of being told by the man who’s supposed to love you no matter what that other people’s reactions are the result of things you do or don’t do, say or don’t say. At some point, you start to believe it.
There hasn’t been a single relationship of mine that ended where I haven’t found a way to put the blame on myself, even though logically, I understand that it wasn’t my fault, especially in the Kyle situation. The man was exactly like my father, gaslighting me every time I stood up for myself, blaming me for everything when something went wrong in his life while putting me down because he couldn’t stand me being happy or doing well. It’s easier to control a person when you break them first.
“Kyle is an idiot. He wasn’t enough for YOU, not the other way around.” She’s right; I’m well aware of that. It doesn’t, however, negate the emotional toil he contributed to at a time when I was already vulnerable. Her arms wrap around me in a way I’ve come to associate with home.
“Do you think I’m chasing after something I’m not meant to be chasing?” I ask softly. She watched me go through all the stages of grief when my dad died. She stood by me when I got so drunk I couldn’t remember my own name. She watched me self-sabotage relationship after relationship, just trying to fill the void in me.
“What do you mean?” She rubs small circles on my back as she waits patiently for my answer. She’s always held space for me to talk through my feelings; it’s one of the things I love most about her.
“Do you think I’m chasing this dream of ‘making it’ for nothing? I mean, what’s the definition of ‘making it’? Some would tell me I’ve already made it.” I sigh; I’ve been so back and forth on this lately. “Don’t get me wrong, I love my job. I just don’t get any fulfillment out of it the way I used to. It’s almost like I’m chasing someone else’s dream.”
“I think you’re the only one who knows the answer to that, Han. I get the motivation behind it all, but have you factored yourself into any of that? Are you happy, or are you just trying to prove yourself? And where does it end?” My mouth opens and closes as I try to find the right words to answer her. I don’t have them, mainly because I don’t have the answer myself.
Pulling out of our hug, I cross my arms and rub circles on my biceps with my thumbs as I walk to my room to get ready for work. I repeat my affirmations in my head: “I am strong.” “I am loved.” “I am worthy.” “I deserve happiness.” “I am more than a conqueror.”
“Hey, Abs.” Stopping just short of our front door, I turn to look at her. “I made you meals for the week last night. It’s all in the fridge.” She darts to the kitchen and slings the refrigerator door open, jaw-dropping at the sight.
“You’re my favorite person in the history of ever! Thanks, Han. You didn’t have to do that.” I just smile.
“Figured you could read your new book instead of wasting away in the kitchen. It is your day off, after all.” Her smile grows, and she snaps a finger in my direction before firing off a couple of finger guns.
“You’re right; I’m going to do just that. Have a good day, bestie!” She sings as she skips to her room. Hmm, it’s going to be a good day.
Walking into Tampa Today on Thursday, I stopped by Nora’s office before making my way to my desk. “Morning, boss!” A smile is plastered on my face because I have the best idea for our charity event.
“Hey, Hannah. I read through your interviews; they’re very well done. You really captured their personalities; the fans love it. I had a good laugh over Brett Wilson’s recurring dream about him wearing a tutu and wings with a wand instead of a stick and skating around the ice for the entirety of a game.”
“I would pay good money to make that a reality.” These guys are built like brick walls; the thought of them wearing tutus and skating around will forever be my sunshine on a cloudy day.
“What do you have for me?” She asks as she steeples her hands under her chin, giving me her undivided attention.
I dive into my idea. A Charity Carnival held on one of the piers, complete with games, local food, and, of course, professional athletes. Her eyebrows shoot toward her hairline as I tell her what the projected cost would be, and it’s under the budget she gave me. I give myself an internal high-five as I watch her piece it together.
“I like it. I think we could get some of the athletes to sign and donate signed jerseys. I’d like them to participate in the event itself, I also understand they can’t change their schedules to be there. Let’s cast a net and see which teams will be here that weekend and see who we can recruit to help.” I nod as I make a list of those to invite and make a note to check their schedules before I do that.
“Thanks, Nora, I’ll get right on that.” As I walk back to my desk, I set some reminders to bring this up when I’m at the arena next. I started to pull some stats from the Hawks' season last year, putting together a chart to compare to the season that will start in a few months. One of my favorite parts of this job is I get to wear fifty different hats. I’m a journalist, data analyst, and promoter all wrapped up in a shiny, sarcastic package.
The readers of Tampa Today’s Magazine aren’t looking for numbers and a brief overview. No, they want to know where their teams were last year, where they can go this year, who the players are, and what each of their strengths are. Articles like the one I just did help with reach. Ticket and jersey sales went up in the first two days after it was published. They want to know what they do in their free time to help the community and how they can get involved.
I think they’ll go crazy over this Carnival, too. I can’t wait to watch it come to life.
Chapter 4 – Greyson
It’s game day, I mean, it’s a pre-season game, but they’re still my favorite days. Usually, I’m locked in and one hundred percent focused. Today is a different story. I woke up from a dream starring none other than my new friend Hannah. In this one, she was walking through our practice facility, telling me about an idea she had. Everything was going great until she morphed into Kara. The dread I feel this morning is suffocating. I should feel grateful; I’m playing for my dream team. Let’s not even get started on the number of people who would kill to be in my shoes. Yet here I am, going through the motions, feeling like there's a ball and chain wrapped around my ankle.
I yelled at multiple teammates and broke one of my sticks before we were even on the ice. Morning Skate was quite literally a train wreck. I bag skated after we were done, and it still wasn’t enough to calm my restless mind.“What if today is the day your team realizes you’re a fraud?” “Is this really the best you can do?” “Don’t slip up, Wilder. You’re easily replaceable.”
With a mess of thoughts rolling around in my head, I decide to go for a run. In typical Florida fashion, it’s sunny one minute and pouring down rain the next. Not the greatest experience mid-run. It doesn’t bother me, though; in fact, I have a one-track mind at the moment. Blueberry muffins fromBeautiful Pour.
I pull the door open and step inside, shaking the rain from my hair before pushing it back out of my face. The comforting smell of roasted beans and baked goods wraps around me, warm and inviting. But what stops me and stills my mess of a mind isn’t the ambiance-it’s her. Sitting in the corner, legs pulled under her as she sitsin one of the shop’s many oversized beanbag chairs. Her fingers fly across the key on her laptop, an iced coffee sits on the table in front of her. The same tug I felt the other day pulls me in her direction once again.
“Well, if it isn’t the queen of caffeine herself.” I tease.
Her head pops up, and I watch her face light up with a genuine smile. Not the polite, professional, very practiced one she threw my way the last time we spoke. Her eyes hold mine, and for a second, the noise in my head goes completely silent.
“Bulldozer,” her voice playful, but there’s something else there. An inviting warmth that makes my chest tighten. “How lovely to see you.” She removes her headphones, resting her chin in one of her hands as if she has all the time in the world for me.
“What brings you here so early?” My hand runs through my hair once again, the weight of the rain making it flop in my face. When I glance back at her, she’s already watching me.