The Sky is Breaking

Tim stumbled out of the recreation center, not really seeing straight. He stopped for a moment, to get his bearings, and then took off down the street. He wasn't waiting for Lyla and he was pretty sure Jason wasn't coming after him, either.

Coward.

Street had called it. Totally. It was the one thing Tim knew about himself. He was a coward.

How the hell had this happened? Jason was the ONLY good thing in his life. And he had ruined their friendship, the only thing that really mattered.

And for what? For Lyla? Like that had ever mattered. Being with Lyla had just been another way, a bad one, to get closer to the one person who mattered most to him

And what had kept him away?

He was a fucking coward. Street had nailed it right on the head, just like he always did.

Tim crossed the street and headed toward his house. The walk was a couple of miles, but it didn't matter. He needed to get out of there--as fast as possible.

 

Jason gasped and shook his hand out, wishing he could flex his fingers. He had hit Tim hard—harder than he had ever hit anyone. He'd never been much of a fighter—just now and again when Tim had gotten into a scrape and he had had to help him out. How had they gotten here—to this place where he hit his best friend hard enough to knock him down?

And how had he gotten to this place where the two people he thought he could count on had betrayed him in the most fundamental way?

He had known ever since those first weeks in the hospital that Lyla might stray, that she might give up on him when she finally figured out he wasn't going to get any better. He had gotten to a place where he was okay with that.

And Tim—Jason hadn't been all that surprised when Tim didn't show up at the hospital. It pissed him off, but it didn't surprise him.

But this—Tim and Lyla together—surprised the hell out of him.

Jason leaned forward and rested his arms on his legs. He was Jason Street. He was supposed to go to Notre Dame. He was supposed to marry Lyla. He was supposed to buy a ranch with Tim and spend the rest of his days hunting. But now, what the hell was he supposed to do?

 

Lyla couldn't catch her breath. The tears were choking her. She reached into her purse for her car keys, her hands shaking. The keys fell out of her purse and down underneath her car.

"Dammit!" she cried as she leaned down, reaching for the keys.

How could she have done this? How could she have hurt him so badly? She'd been in love with him ever since she was twelve years old and Jason Street had carried her into the nurse's office after she fell doing a cherry drop off the bars on the playground. Her father thought she'd hit her head too hard, but her mom had known—she'd understood about falling in love when you were only a girl—falling in love with the guy you were going to be with for the rest of your life. Understood completely right up until the point that Jason broke his neck and all of their dreams were smashed.

She couldn't tell her parents about what she'd done. They would be so ashamed. How could she have done this?

Lyla opened the car door and sat down behind the wheel. She reached into her purse and pulled out her phone.

The phone answered after three rings.

"Mrs. Taylor…I…can you? I'm…uh…I'm at the center…yeah…yes, he did…he…" Lyla broke down in tears again. "I…no…I don't think…and, I…I left him there…yes…okay."

She closed her phone and dropped her head down on the steering wheel. How had she ever let it get so out of control?

 

"Hey."

Jason looked up and saw Coach Taylor walking across the gym floor toward him. "Hey, coach."

"Good scrimmage?" the coach asked.

"Yeah," Jason replied, his voice flat. Lyla had only been gone for about twenty minutes, but he hadn’t moved; hadn’t even gotten back into his regular chair

"Need a lift back to the rehab center?" the coach asked, picking up Jason's bag from the floor.

Jason looked up at him. "Lyla call you?"

"Yeah, something like that," the coach replied. "Said you might need a lift, and seeing as I was headed down this way anyhow, I was happy to help out."

Jason nodded. He could only imagine what Lyla might have said to the coach. Frankly, he wasn't sure he cared.

"So, do you need to get in your regular chair?" the coach asked, nodding his head toward Jason's regular wheelchair.

"Yeah, you got room for both of these?" Jason asked.

"Sure thing," the coach replied. "I can just throw them back in the truck"

Jason showed the coach how to lift him up from the rugby chair into his manual chair. Coach lifted him and helped him back into the seat of the chair. He thought for a moment about how he had just taught Tim to help him into the chair, and then pushed the thought away. He was done with Riggins. He reached down and moved his feet onto the footrest, then moved his hands to the wheels and headed toward the door.

"You want to talk about anything?" Coach Taylor asked as he pushed the rugby chair along behind Jason.

"Nope," Jason replied.

"You need an Alamo burger?" Coach asked.

Jason stopped for a moment to consider the offer. "I don't know, coach…I should probably just…"

"I'll throw in a chocolate swizzler if that sweetens the deal."

"Let me call Phil and let him know I'm coming back late. It's a little understanding we have," Jason answered as they headed for the coach's car.

 

"You didn't mean to hurt him, Lyla," Tami said as she ran a hand down Lyla's hair, trying to soothe the broken-hearted girl as they sat in Lyla’s car in the parking lot at the activity center.

"Just get me out of here," Lyla said, her tears not stopping. She tried to catch her breath, then continued. "I can't have him…I can't have him come out here and still be here."

"Of course," Tami replied, sliding Lyla's car into gear.

"Thank you, Mrs. Taylor," Lyla said. "Thank you for coming…for helping Jason."

"Of course, sweetie," Tami answered. "It was good—good for you to call."

Tami pulled out of the parking lot and onto the street. "Where do you want to go, Lyla? Do you want me to take you home?"

Lyla didn't answer. She had nowhere to go. What would she say to her parents? They would never understand.

"How about we just go somewhere and talk for a bit. How does that sound?" Tami asked.

"Good," Lyla replied, her eyes fixed on her hands lying in her lap.

 

Tim stopped on the sidewalk in front of his house to catch his breath. He reached up and gingerly touched the skin below his eye. Street had really nailed him. Tim took a deep breath and headed for the house.

Billy was at the stove when he walked in, so Tim crossed the room and sat down at the counter. The room was like he had left it earlier—signs of the fight with Billy all over the living room.

Billy turned and looked at him, a look of shock on his face. "What happened, Tim? Who did that to you?"

He wanted to just tell Billy somebody else—or that Billy had done it earlier and not noticed. He wanted that to be the truth, for this bruise to have come from anyone except Jason.

"Tim?"

Tim looked up at his brother. "Jay. It was Jason," he admitted.

"Oh." For the first time in his life, Billy Riggins didn't have anything else to add. He reached over and pulled open the freezer, grabbed the bag of peas he'd bought earlier that week and tossed them to Tim. "Put that on your eye."

Tim took the peas and put them up against his eye. The cold felt good—numbed the pain.

"What happened?" his brother asked.

Tim just shook his head. He didn't want to talk about it. Talking about it was like making it happen all over again.

It wasn't just that it was done with Lyla; his friendship with Jason was over. Mr. and Mrs Street would never talk to him again—never invite him over to their home again.

He'd never felt this alone, not even the day his dad left.

 

Jason looked over at the coach as they pulled up to the burger joint. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. This was one of those places the old Jason had gone…with his girl Lyla, where he joked with his best friend Tim Riggins. This wasn't where crippled, cheated-on Jason went with the coach to cry into a chocolate swizzler.

"You want to go in?" Coach asked.

Jason shook his head. "I don't know—I don't think so."

"You hungry at least?"

Jason didn't respond. He wasn't hungry. He was empty.

"Let me go grab something and then we can either drive back or stop somewhere," the coach responded as he opened up his door.

Jason watched as Coach walked into the restaurant. He could see Saracen behind the counter, greeting the coach shyly. Jason smiled and laughed to himself. Saracen was one of a kind, that was for sure.

 

Tami pulled Lyla's car over, parking under a tree in the small park next to the library.

"Is this okay?" she asked.

Lyla nodded, tears drying on her face.

Tami turned and looked at the young woman. "So, Jason knows."

Lyla looked at her. She hadn't even asked it as a question, but rather stated the one thing that seemed completely obvious. She wasn't even sure what she had said on the phone, other than they had to come and help—that Jason needed the coach.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?" Tami asked, a look of concern crossing her face.

Lyla took a deep breath. "I'm not even sure. The scrimmage ended and Tim went to tell Jason what a great job he did and he just hit him."

"Jason hit Tim?"

Lyla nodded. "He hit him and called him a coward and chased him…"

"Where did Tim go?"

"I don't know," Lyla answered. "I've never seen Jason so angry—not even…"

"Not even what?"

"Not even the night of my birthday—the night—the night Tim and I…"

"So Jason was angry that night?" Tami asked.

Lyla nodded again, her hand reaching up to tug nervously at her hair. "He got so mad—told me that he didn't want to be with me anymore—that I should just leave…"

"And then you ran into Tim?"

"Yes," Lyla answered quietly. "It's not an excuse…it's…it's just what happened."

Tami's phone began to ring. "Hey, honey…yep, we're just talking…where? Okay…and then you're going to…okay, sounds good." She ended the call and slipped the phone back in her purse.

"Is Jason okay?" Lyla asked.

"I think so," Tami answered. "Eric's getting him some food and then they're going to head back to the rehab center."

"Good."

"What about you?" Tami asked.

Lyla looked down at her hands, thinking. "Can you take me back out there, too?"

"Do you really think that's a good idea, sweetie?"

Lyla looked up at her. "I love him. I can't just walk away now, no matter what I've done."

"Okay, then," Tami answered as she put the car back into drive.

 

Tim sat in his truck, the keys in the ignition, not sure where to go. He couldn't stay in the house any longer. Billy was actually trying to be supportive, but Tim felt like he was being smothered by his brother's unasked questions.

How did a guy get to a place like this? Tim had never thought of himself as having a major moral compass, but there was code, and code said you didn't make a move on your buddy's girl.

Making a move on your paralyzed best friend's girl—who you didn't even like all that much—Tim couldn't imagine anyone who had ever done something worse in the history of the world. And Jason wasn't just his friend. Tim didn't have words for what Jason meant to him.

Tim smashed his hand down on the dash of the truck. How could he BE so stupid? He turned the ignition and threw the truck into gear. He needed to just go somewhere…

 

Jason wedged the hamburger between his hands and brought it up to his mouth. Another thing way harder than it used to be—eating in the car. He wasn't even going to attempt to do anything with the bag of fries the coach had set next to him. He took another bite of the burger and then let it drop back down onto the wrapper.

"Burger okay?"

"Yeah," Jason answered as he watched the lights of Dillon recede in the background.

"So, what's the plan now? You coming home soon?" Coach asked.

"Uh…yeah," Jason answered. "I think probably in another week or so."

"And then are you back to school?"

"After New Years, I think," Jason replied. "I had enough credits, so they just told me to wait and come back for second semester."

"So, what are your plans, then? Have you thought about it?"

Jason turned as much as he was able and looked at the coach. "I hit Riggins."

Coach kept his gaze on the road ahead. "Make you feel any better?"

"Maybe," Jason responded. "I felt it—even with gloves on."

"Is your hand okay?"

Jason looked down at his right hand. A small bruise had formed around the first two knuckles. "Yeah, it's fine."

"You know, fighting isn't generally the answer to a problem like this."

Jason let out a short laugh. "You have a problem like this one?"

Coach turned and smiled at him. "No, son—like just about everything that's happened to you in the past couple of months, I have not lived through the same thing."

"It's not—it's not that I thought Lyla would stay with me. Heck, I told her to leave me—I yelled at her and told her to get out, but Riggins?"

"Must be hard after he already let you down," Coach replied.

Jason nodded. "Yeah, some best friend."

Coach pulled into the rehab parking lot and parked the car near the door. "I can't tell you what the right thing to do is, but I can tell you that this is a time when you need to look out for yourself. And maybe that means you cut out the people in your life who have hurt you or maybe it means that you talk to them and try to figure out what happened—you forgive them if you can—and you move on. You are the only one who can know for sure what the answer is."

The coach's phone began to ring again. "Yep. Oh…really…yeah…I can do that…" He muted the phone and turned to Jason. "Tami picked Lyla up, before. She's—they're almost here. Lyla wouldn't go home without trying to talk to you."

Jason didn't reply.

"Jason?"

Jason began to shake his head. "I can't—not now. I just…"

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to, son."

"She's not going to go away, is she?" Jason asked.

"She is Buddy Garrity's daughter," Coach replied, chuckling lightly.

Jason sighed. "Okay, tell her—tell her I'll listen, but I'm not promising anything."

Coach relayed the message, then got out of the truck. "Let me get your chair. You want to go inside to talk?"

"There's this courtyard, on the side of the building," Jason replied, motioning toward a small seating area near the entrance to the rehab center. "We can go over there."

Jason watched as the coach opened the back of the truck and pulled out first the rugby chair and then his manual. He pushed the chair around to Jason's side of the car and opened the door and opened it up.

"You can just leave the other chair with the orderly at the door," Jason instructed. "I can come back later and get it from him."

The coach reached in and helped Jason out of the truck and into his chair. Jason pushed back slightly and looked up at the coach. "Thanks…thanks for coming to get me and for…"

"Anytime, Jason. You want me to stick around?"

"I think I've got it," Jason replied.

"You call me anytime—anytime, you hear me?" the coach instructed.

"Absolutely."

Jason waited for a moment as the coach headed toward the entrance with his rugby chair, then began to push himself over toward the courtyard.

Lyla was standing there with the coach's wife.

"Hey, Mrs. Taylor," Jason said as he approached them.

"Jason…" Tami began.

"Thanks, Mrs. Taylor," Lyla said as she turned and hugged the counselor.

"You good here?" Tami asked.

Both kids nodded as Tami reached down and hugged Jason, then headed back to the truck in the parking lot.

"Jason…" Lyla began.

"I'm not so sure we should be talking about this right now," Jason interrupted.

"I can't have you thinking…"

"Thinking what? That you cheated on me with my best friend? Cause that's what happened, isn't it? How could you, Lyla? I mean, I never thought you'd stay, but I never thought you'd do this…"

"You never thought I'd stay?" Lyla asked, tears brimming in her eyes. "Why…why would you think that?"

"Lyla—you CHEATED on me—you didn't stay, so it's kind of true."

"I didn't leave—I just—" Lyla stopped suddenly, her eyes wide.

"You just what?" Jason asked.

"Jay…"

At the sound of Tim's voice behind him, Jason pivoted. "Can't you leave this alone?" he asked Tim looking him dead in the eye.

"No," Tim replied.

"Tim, maybe you should…" Lyla began.

"Should what? Run away again?" Tim asked. "You were right, Six. I am a coward. Have been my whole life. Only thing that ever made me want to be brave was you."

"You can't count on me like that anymore," Jason said, his voice low.

"I know—I know it's my turn to step up," Tim answered. "It just…it just happened too fast and I—I fucked up Six."

"So, I forgive you? Forget that you and Lyla--” Jason turned his glare toward Lyla as her eyes widened. She held Jason’s gaze for a moment, then turned away. “That you did this thing?"

"I don't know—I just know that the first time I've felt alive in the past two months was last week, with you, out at the lake."

"I don't know if you've noticed, Tim, but this wasn't just about what I did to you—I broke my neck. I can't walk. I can't play ball anymore. I can't make love to my girlfriend anymore. I'm not going to Notre Dame. I'm not playing in the NFL. A few things have happened that have nothing to do with you losing your wing man."

Tim knelt down in front of Jason, looking him right in the face. "Hit me again, if it makes you feel better. I deserve it, Jay."

Jason shook his head and rolled back, away from Tim. "I'm not letting you forgive yourself that easily."

"Forgive?" Tim responded. "I'll never forgive myself for what I've done."

"Just stop," Lyla cried out.

Both boys turned and looked at her.

"I love you, Jason—you have to know that. And I did this. You hurt me, Jason and I don't know if I was consciously thinking about it, but I wanted to hurt you like you hurt me and the only way I knew to do that…"

"I hurt you?" Jason asked.

"Her birthday," Tim responded, quietly.

No one spoke for a moment.

"How did this—how did it all get so messed up?" Jason asked.

"It was an accident, Six," Tim answered. "You getting hurt. Me and Lyla. All of this. It's some stupid accident that everyone has some responsibility for, but ultimately it's nobody's fault. Life just gets messed up.

Jason laughed. "Profound, Timmy."

Nobody moved for a moment and then Lyla stepped forward. "I'm going to go—I'll…I'll talk to you later, Jason."

Lyla turned and headed toward the parking lot. Jason watched, then moved to catch up with her. "Lyla—don't—don't go."

She stopped and turned to him, her face covered with tears. "I don't think I can do this right now, Jason. I just can't believe how I've ruined everything—I've made a complete mess of your life, mine and Tim's. I've destroyed the one thing that meant anything to any of us."

"We all did that," Jason answered.

Lyla shook her head. "No—you didn't do anything other than be scared and trust me."

"I put my head down," Jason said quietly.

"What do you mean?" Lyla asked. "Like in the sand? That's crazy, Jason."

"No, I…" Jason started.

"Six…" Tim interrupted. "Don't."

"No, I made my dad bring me the tape. We watched it last night. I didn't know—I guess it all seemed so confused after the tackle, going to the hospital…and then I just didn't ask."

"What is he saying, Tim?" Lyla asked.

"He put his head down when he tackled that guy," Tim answered. "You're not supposed to lead with your head."

"And I smashed my whole cervical spine right into him—like a train into a building," Jason answered quietly. "There are no accidents."

"It wasn't your fault," Tim replied.

"Yeah, try telling my mom that," Jason responded, his voice catching. "I know she blames me for screwing this all up."

Lyla walked back over to Jason and knelt down in front of him, her hand on his knee. Tim moved and put his on the Jason's shoulder as Jason continued to break down.

"We're a pretty sad sight," Tim commented.

"How'd this happen to us?" Lyla asked. "We were supposed to have our whole lives figured out."

"Doesn't work that way, Lyla," Tim answered.

"That's for sure," Jason replied.

"We can get through this," Tim said. "If we want to…we can get past it."

"How?" Jason asked.

"We just do it,” Tim answered.

Jason looked down at Lyla as she took his hands in hers.

"Texas forever?" Jason asked.

"Forever," Tim and Lyla answered.

FIN

Feedback gratefully received and acknowledged at rachel _wilder@hotmail.com