Justin sat on the edge of the examination table, wincing in pain while grabbing handfuls of the loud and annoying exam table paper. He watched as the doctor pressed his fingers around his knee, secretly wanting to take the man’s hand and breaking every last one of the fingers that were causing him such discomfort.
To take his mind off the pain, he started to explain the problem he was having with his pain medication and his reoccurring dreams. He figured he’d rather not take the pills and deal with the pain as opposed to slowly making himself crazy every night. But at this point, with the way the doctor was pressing down on his knee, he was re-thinking that decision entirely.
"…You say you were having these dreams before your injury right, Justin?" the doctor asked.
"Yeah, but I would only have them every once in a while. Ever since I hurt my knee, I’ve been having them non-stop."
"Well I'm afraid that isn't a side effect,” the doctor stated plainly. He slid over towards the counter on his wheeled stool and began to write some notes down in the file before turning his gaze back to Justin. He opened his mouth to speak but paused, “…You may want to see a psychologist about that."
"No-I don’t need a damn shrink, doc." Justin snapped before getting up from the examination table and putting his jeans back on.
With the rim of his bifocals slightly lowered, and one eyebrow raised, he gave Justin that all too familiar look. Justin was immediately put on the defensive and said, "I just don’t believe in sitting in a room and telling some complete stranger about my childhood, so he can make assumptions about what is wrong me, Doc. I got my momma for that.”
“It was only a suggestion.” The doctor defended, raising up from his stool to hand Justin two pain pills and a small cup of water, demanding Justin take them. “…So on a scale of 1 to 10, how has your pain level been lately?”
"Before digging your fingers into my knee?” he joked, “I would say around a 6."
"Well that's better.” The doctor continued to write more notes. “Slowly, but surely. It's going to take a while for your ACL to heal. We have to get some more scans taken, but I think the surgery took."
Justin didn’t seem too optimistic about the news. The doctor placed down his pen and patiently waited for Justin to finish lacing up his shoe so that he could have his full attention. “You know, Justin. I deal with player injuries all the time. When you’re out there playing, you think you’re invincible, till the moment you’re not anymore.” He sighed crossing his arms and leaning back against the counter. “It definitely can affect a person…In more ways than one. You really should find someone to talk to abo-“ He could see Justin on the verge of protest. “Look, it doesn’t have to be a shrink. Maybe a friend, or other players who’ve had similar injuries. They may be able to pull you out of this rut.”
Justin grabbed up his coat, nodding in agreement. As he was about to step out of the room he looked back at the doctor and said. “I’ve spent half of my life chasing this dream…Making huge sacrifices along the way. And to know that it could be over in a snap? Literally…A snap!” he reiterated by snapping his finger. “I’m not ready to let that go, yet. It has to have been worth everything I’ve gone through…It has to have been worth everything I’ve given up…”
Later on that evening after his arduous physical therapy session and his photo shoot with Nike, Justin headed out for drinks with some programming executives for ESPN. His agent was working hard to make sure that he kept busy while they were playing the waiting game on whether or not he’d be able to play ball again.
For the first hour of the meeting all Justin kept hearing was “what are you going to do if?” Isn’t that why they were having the meeting in the first place? So there would be no question as to what he was going to do if?
He ordered drink after drink in hopes of drowning out their voices as they spoke of other players from the past who had been injured and were never heard from again. Who ended up broke because they didn’t make wise financial investments when they had the chance. Their wives or girlfriends eventually leaving them because they could no longer afford the lifestyle in which they’d become accustomed. He didn’t want to hear any of that shit. Especially now, when his career was teetering on the fence.
“I'm sorry to interrupt gentlemen.” The maitre'de said as he leaned down over the table. “There is an emergency telephone call for you Mr. Timberlake.”
Justin excused himself from the table and followed the man to a nearby office so he could take the call, "Hello?"
"Justin? It’s Rich. I just got a call here at the apartment. You're father’s had an accident."
"What happened? Where is he now?"
"They were vague with the details. But he fell and hit his head on something. They transferred him over to Saint Francis Hospital to have some tests done. They said they don’t think it’s that serious bu-“
Justin cut him off, "Call and get me the first flight you can. I'm on my way home now."
The two and a half hour flight from Boston to Memphis was a quick one. Justin had slept from the moment he sat in his seat till the moment they landed. He silently thanked the alcohol that was still working its way through his system from the night before. He rushed through the terminal, ear glued to his phone, trying to get in touch with his mother or stepfather to see if they could pick him up, but there was no answer at the house. He began to regret telling Rich that he didn’t need a car service to pick him up and that he would be fine. A few fans came up asking for autographs and he gladly obliged before finally making his way downstairs to gather up his luggage and rent a car.
When Justin finally reached the hospital, he was directed to the 7th floor. He noticed the barrage of signs outside the wing warning about the use of cell phones in the hospital. As he walked through the double doors, he reached down in his pocket to grab his phone and turn it off. His senses perked up slightly when he smelled a familiar scent hit the air around him. It was a slight hint of peaches. He turned his head slightly in the direction of the scent and saw a woman with her back to him, walking in the opposite direction, digging down for something in her oversized purse. He watched her for a moment, but was interrupted by the nurse behind the desk. "Can I help you, Sir?"
"Yeah my father was brought in last night. Timberlake…Randall Timberlake."
"Oh well let me see if I can find him in the system. We haven't had time to update the new arrivals. Just give me one second."
The older woman reached down and grabbed her glasses that were hanging around her neck and brought them up to her face as she squinted at the screen in front of her, slowly typing the name into the system.
Justin turned his gaze back down the hallway towards the woman he’d passed earlier. She was now standing down at the open double doors of the ward talking to some of the staff. Her long, brown hair streamed down from the confines of an army green cadet hat. He couldn't make out her face, but knew she seemed familiar. He watched her closely as she talked to one of the other nurses. He immediately froze when he heard her laugh. It was a laugh he knew all too well.
“What was your father’s name again, Sir?”
Justin turned his attention back to the older woman behind the desk, who was now on the phone trying to figure out where his dad was. He repeated his information once again. The younger nurse he had seen earlier talking to the mysterious woman in the hat came over, making her way behind the nurse’s station. "Excuse me…” he asked, grabbing her attention. “That woman you were just talking to a minute ago…What was her name?"
"That was Cherish." she smiled.
Justin’s head whipped back towards the double doors to see her, but she was gone. “Did she see me?” he muttered to himself.
“Huh?” the younger nurse asked, not really hearing what he said.
“Nothing…Never mind.” He stated, shaking his head…Glancing down hall again for any sight of her.
“You need help, Margaret?” she asked the older nurse.
“They didn’t input the patient information into the system for this young man’s father. He was brought in late last night. I’m trying to find out what room he’s in, but no one downstairs is answering.”
The younger nurse looked up and smiled at him. “Justin, your dad is in room 7133. Sorry. We’re understaffed this morning so things are a bit crazy.”
It was obvious that she knew him, either from town or she was a sports fan. Justin looked at the woman for a minute, trying to place her face but couldn’t. “Umm…Thanks.”
He turned on his heels to walk away, but didn’t know which direction he should go. She simply smiled and said, “Here, I’ll walk you down there.”
As they walked down the corridor together, she blurted out, "We used to go to high school together, you know.”
He gazed at her face, but still could not place it. "Oh did we?”
"Yeah…I think we went out on a date once."
"I've seen a lot of faces since then…I hope you aren't offended if I don't remember." He smiled apologetically.
“Well I think after sophomore year you were only interested in one face anyway.” She grinned.
He knew exactly who she was referring to, but chose not to indulge the conversation. When they got to room 7133, Justin reached his hand out to hers to shake it and said, “Thanks…Umm”
“Kathy…Kathy Miller?”
“Ooohhh! Kathy!” he smiled, finally recognizing her. She’d gained about twenty pounds since high school, but she still had that bright smile and bubbly personality he remembered. He waved goodbye and told her he would talk to her later. As he went to push the door open, he hesitated for a moment. He hadn't seen his father in 6 years.
He took a deep breath before finally entering the room. He called out to his father but there was no answer. As he made his way further into the room, he could see his dad sleeping. He quietly crept over to his bedside and looked down at the man who was half responsible for bringing him into the world.
He had a bandage on his head, with small tufts of hair sticking out from underneath. His father had aged so much in so little time. Or had he always looked like that and Justin just didn’t remember?
"Oh, Mr. Timberlake.” A voice called out from behind him. “Had I known you were coming, we would have had someone waiting to talk to you.”
Justin turned around and could see a tall man with a white medical coat walking towards him. The two men shook hands. “Your father fell at the nursing facility and hit his head on a pointed corner of a table. They brought him over here as a precautionary measure. There is some slight swelling and he does have a pretty bad gash, so we’re going to run some more tests later on today to check his injury. Will you be staying in town? In case we need to contact you?"
"Yes.” Justin stated. “I’ll leave my cell number and my assistant's number at the desk if you need to contact me. And you can always reach me through my mother. Her number should be on file already."
The doctor nodded his head. He looked over Justin’s father, checking the bandage, “We gave him something to help him sleep. He was disoriented last night and with the sudden new environment, he had a hard time relaxing. He should be asleep for the next few hours and then we are going to run tests. So you may want to go and get settled in and then come back. I can leave word to allow you up on the floor after visiting hours.”
“That won’t be necessary.” Justin interjected. “I think he’s had enough strangers in his face. I’ll let him get his rest and will be back here in the morning if that is okay?”
“That’s fine.” The doctor smiled walking him back down the hallway.
Justin started out of the hospital and hopped into his rental car and headed towards Boone County. When he reached the city limits and saw the welcome sign, a flood of memories washed over him. He smiled to himself as he drove down the familiar streets.
Justin passed his best friend Trace's old house and chuckled, remembering the time when they were 10 and Trace tried to sneak out through his bedroom window to go pool hopping, only to get stuck. He was found the next morning by his mother, sound asleep and still wedged half-in and half-out of the window.
He made a turn and headed down Main Street, noticing the county had added four new traffic lights, making a total of six. His hometown of Boone was growing! He chuckled at the thought.
As he turned down Grande Avenue he passed the bowling alley where he and his friends had played so many times before. It sat right next to Darla’s pub. Justin slowed the car and made the familiar right turn down Eighth Street. He pulled the car over to the curb in front of the third house from the end and sat there. He hadn't been here in years. He’d have to thank Sal later for keeping the place in such good condition.
When Justin’s father was diagnosed with Frontotemporal dementia, everyone in the family had pretty much given up. They all started fighting over money, property and everything else they could get their hands one. They acted as if his father had died.
Justin refused to give up hope that the doctors could be wrong and that his father would be okay. He hadn't been able to sell his father's home. He just couldn't bring himself around to doing it, no matter what ten different doctors and fifty different family members said. No matter if the man had abandoned him and his mother when he was baby…That was his father. And if one day he miraculously remembered who he was for more than five minutes, Justin wanted his father to have a home to come back to…his home.
Justin sat and stared at the porch and a faint smile crossed his lips when he listened to the sound of John Mellencamp's "Small Town" playing in the car. His mind wandered back to the days when he would sit on that same porch with Trace, playing with their G.I. Joe action figures, listening to the radio, sharing their dreams. The memories were so vivid. He remembered the time when he and Cherish argued on that same porch about how he drove off and left her at the bowling alley one night, because, in his opinion, she was acting like a spoiled brat. He closed his eyes and for just that moment, he could almost feel her, sense her fragrance, hear her voice…
He couldn’t go inside that house just yet. He didn’t want to be surrounded by all those memories right now. He put the car in drive and continued to drive. When he reached the end of the road he put on his turn signal to make a right towards the direction of his mother's house. But when he looked to the left, he spotted her…Same clothes from earlier. Same hat covering her long curly brown hair.
Justin made a quick left turn and inched his way up the street slowly, finding an empty spot in front of a house that was four houses away, across from her. He put his window down slightly to get a better look. She was out on the front lawn, chasing around a boy who looked around 9 or 10 years old. The boy looked like her. She chased him into the driveway where he dribbled a basketball and tossed it towards the hoop hanging overtop the garage. It easily went in, never hitting the rim. “The kid’s got skills,” he said.
Justin couldn’t help wondering to himself. A smile crept across his face when he heard her boisterous laughter and watched her toss the ball, completely missing the hoop and hitting the roof of the garage. He chuckled as he watched the child taunt her before he was taken by surprise and placed in a headlock. Justin watched her intently as she and the child walked towards the porch steps of the house. But for some reason she lifted her head and looked in his direction. Justin sank down lower in his seat trying to stay out of sight. She lightly smacked the child on the butt and motioned for him to head inside. She inched her way up the stairs, still looking in Justin's direction. Had she seen him? She couldn't have, he was too far away and had on a pair of sunglasses. Not wanting to take any chances, he quickly looked back to see if any cars were coming and made a quick u-turn, heading back up into the direction of his mother’s house in Millington.
Chapter End Notes:
Chapter Music:
Small Town ~ John Mellencamp
Story Tags: vulnerablej southernj carsex trace justin threesome basketball reunion teenagelove teenageangst
