In the last hour I had scalding hot coffee poured on me, was knocked uncon- scious, and nearly missed my flight. I looked over at the man who I blamed for my current situation; in fact I also blamed him for my sprained ankle, probably broken foot, as well as the scalding burn down my back. He looked contrite, but I still hated him.
Why the hell was I here? Why couldn’t I avoid this man who brought destruc- tion in his wake? Why the hell couldn’t I get out of his wake?
I looked over to my brother who held my hand and looked anxious. His fur- rowed brows forced me to smile up at him, at the very least he had to know I didn’t blame him for my current situation. Hell no, it was all Matt Coleman’s fault.
My family was my world. I had amazing parents who loved us kids, in fact, cherished was a more appropriate word. My two brothers were kind, generous, and always supportive of me and my creative nature. The five of us were happy to- gether, never really fighting over anything.
I always assumed it was because of my mother’s calm demeanor. She never yelled at us, ever. I think the only time I heard her curse was when she sliced her palm open trying to catch a falling vase. Even then she said “whoops a daisy” as the broken glass slid through her skin. When the blood fell freely from her hand to the floor she cursed right before her she lost consciousness and her body fell to the ground. Fortunately my brother, Gabe, caught her before her head hit the ground. He calmly instructed me to call 911 and told me what to say on the phone. I was nine, and he was fourteen, and we were the only ones home at the time.
Gabe is easily my most favorite person on the planet Earth. He was born pro- foundly deaf and I’m pretty sure he adored me from the minute my parents brought me home. Gabe remained calm, pressing a clean dish towel to my moth- er’s hand and when she regained consciousness he set her in the kitchen chair. He wouldn’t release her hand, which rendered him deaf and mute. It was that day he decided to get the cochlear implant. He hated not being able to do more for our mother when the EMT’s arrived.
The first couple of years he had the implant were tough for him. He hated his voice, he hated the noise, and he had a hard time making sense of everything. It made some things easier though. He really enjoyed soccer and his sophomore year he was the place kicker for the varsity football team. He was a gentle giant, big enough he could play some offense if needed, but more importantly, he was the best big brother that any woman could hope for. So after college when he was drafted as a placekicker for the 49’ers we were thrilled for him. When he asked me to come with him, I didn’t think twice. I just packed up my clothes and flew to Flor- ida State to accompany him on his flight to San Francisco.
Had I known I’d be stuck doing a publicity tour with Matt Coleman, who played offensive tackle, and the quarterback, Jeb Keller, as well as five other guys I would have begged off. Well, probably not, because if Gabe needed me - I would do any- thing for Gabe.
Jeb’s wife and children were wonderful and friendly and welcomed me. The other guys sort of breezed in and out of photo shoots and the few interviews, but Matt seemed to be joined to Jeb at the hip. That wouldn’t have been a problem if they didn’t attract so much attention. Attention that neither Gabe nor I dealt with before and we didn’t enjoy it now.
We survived the trip to California, but it was during the training camp that Matt Coleman became my nemesis.
First, he regularly introduced Gabe to the worst sort of women when I wasn’t around. This meant he kept bringing “fans” into the locker room. Gabe hated the sudden attention. Matt, on the other hand, thought it was hilarious to see him blush and freak out. He didn’t understand that Gabe hated to talk, he was self- conscious about his voice. Gabe hated talking in public and certainly not to strange women. He never had a serious girlfriend, although he dated occasionally. He was shy. He was gentle, and Matt Coleman was a jerk.
Second, he kept trying to get Gabe to go with him to bars. I’m pretty sure it was because I was twenty and couldn’t get in, but what really chapped my ass was he was trying to get Gabe drunk. He started calling him Mormon until Jeb made him quit.
Third, Gabe’s number in high school and college was thirty one, my birthday and my lucky number. Matt Coleman was number thirty one and Gabe had to get a new number. I hated him more for that than the Mormon jokes.
Fourth, Matt craved the fans’ attention. He liked being noticed, and he drew a lot of attention to himself whenever we were together. Sometimes inciting near riots. Like today, at the airport, he had to smile and wave until a crowd formed around us. Someone pushed the crowd forward and I ended up with a caramel macchiato poured down my back. After changing in the restroom, I followed the group toward our gate. The team had already flown to Arizona for the upcoming preseason game, but Gabe and Matt had stayed behind to play golf at a charity tournament yesterday. Matt had pulled out a t-shirt and signed it and then threw it in the air for some lucky fan to catch. That’s when the crowd moved toward me, knocking me down and unconscious. I really, really disliked that man.
Gabe signed, “Are you ok? Do you want to go home?”
I shook my head and the room spun. I signed back, “I’ll be fine. Do you want me to go?”
He nodded and signed, “Only if you are ok. It’s our first game; I want you be- side me after the game.”
I sat up slowly, “Ok. Did we miss our flight?” He shrugged, and I looked at Matt for an answer.
When I decided to get an Associate’s Degree in web design rather than go to a four year college Gabe was incredibly supportive. Michael was concerned that I couldn’t get a job. However, I was doing well doing free-lance work and I could do it from anywhere, rarely having to meet with clients face to face. It had been a quick and easy decision to help Gabe move and get settled in. I just wasn’t sure how long it would go on, I mean I assumed once I had his house in order I’d move home. He needed a personal assistant and I wasn’t sure I wanted to take on that role.
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