Lisa Schroeder - The Bridge from You to Me

“There’s no way you’ll guess, so I’ll just tell you. Your teammate, Benny Lewis, is flying in tomorrow for the game.”

The room erupts in cheers. I’m sitting there in shock, wondering why Benny didn’t let me know about this.

“Lewis has made incredible progress,” Coach goes on. “His mom told me the overseeing physician says it’s nothing short of a miracle. Anyway, I’ve been checking in with his family on a regular basis, and it was my hope that I could help to make this happen for you boys. His team of medical staff agreed to let him fly home, just for the weekend. On Sunday, he’ll return to Atlanta, because his work there certainly isn’t finished.”

Coach looks around at us for a minute before he says, “I know this has been a challenging season for y’all. I wouldn’t have blamed you if you fell apart; if you couldn’t muster the strength and courage week after week like a winning team needs to. But you did it. And I am so damn proud of each and every one of you. And I know whatever happens tomorrow night, you’re gonna make Benny proud too.

“Now let’s get out there and have a good practice. I’ll see you on the field in five.”

Benny must have wanted to surprise me. He didn’t tell me because he wanted me to be surprised along with everyone else.

Just like he wanted to surprise his mom on her birthday. He’s still the same good-hearted guy. And I can’t wait to see him. See how he’s doing. What he looks like. I keep wondering if he’ll come in a wheelchair, or if he’s able to walk by himself now. I didn’t want to ask him any of these questions on the phone. I mean, the last thing I’d want to do is make the guy feel like a failure if he isn’t able to walk yet. I have no idea what’s normal and what’s not, and from what his mom said, it sounds like there are lots of degrees of normal, anyway.

I’m kind of a wreck on Friday. Between the game looming large and the thought of getting to see my best friend for the first time in weeks, I can hardly sit still in my morning classes.

And then, as I’m heading to the cafeteria for lunch, I get a text. From a number I don’t recognize.

My mom called. I’m leaving tonight. Can I see you before I go?

Lauren

I blink a few times, reread the message over and over. At first I wonder if it’s some sort of cruel joke. I decide there’s only one way to find out.

I move into a corner of the hallway and call the number.

“Hello?”

“Lauren?”

“Hi, Colby.”

“It is you. I wasn’t sure.”

“I borrowed my aunt’s phone.”

“So it’s true? You’re leaving?”

“Yeah. Taking the red-eye tonight.”

It feels like someone’s punched me in the gut.

“I’ll be right there.”

I stop at Walgreens on the way and make a mad dash around the place, getting everything I can. Then I practically fly to the McManns’, hoping the whole way I can get her to change her mind.

When I get there, I ring the bell, holding the gift bag, and wait.

Mrs. McMann opens the door and I say hello.

Her eyes look sad. “Hi, Colby. Lauren’s upstairs, packing. Come in.”

I step in, and she shuts the door behind me.

“So, she’s really leaving?” I ask.

She simply replies, “Yes.”

“Does she have to go?” I ask. “I mean, could she stay here?”

“Well, I don’t think she wants to stay here.”

“No, she does. But she thinks you guys don’t want her. I mean, not permanently, anyway.”

She’s about to respond when Lauren appears at the top of the stairs. “Hey, Colby. Come on up.”

I give Mrs. McMann a quick glance before I head up the stairs.

I start to reach out, to give Lauren a hug, but she’s already walking down the hallway. “You got here really fast. My room is down here, at the end.”

I follow her. It’s a big house. There are at least four bedrooms that we walk past.