Look at these two fools: one is embarrassed out of her mind, almost to the point of tears, and the other is confused and panicking, probably thinking he's responsible for spilling food all over her.
"Ma'am, did I hit you with the door? I'm terribly sorry…"
"No… no… it's not your fault… I'm okay."
Her voice trembled as she tried to hide her face. Getting food all over yourself is embarrassing enough, but getting knocked down by a door makes it even more comical… at least for me.
"Please excuse me…"
She ran past him, covering her face, trying to save what little dignity she had left… if she even had any.
"Why are you here?"
I asked, breaking his focus from my wife. He stayed silent, watching her run out of the room before turning his attention back to me.
"Well… visiting? The other guys wanted to know how you're doing," he said, walking closer to my hospital bed. He placed a fruit basket on the side table before taking a seat.
"What do you think?"
I said, glancing at my leg in a hanging cast. He rubbed his neck, the awkward silence stretching as he probably realized how stupid his question was.
"Look, man… I'm just here to represent the team. We're all hoping for your fast recovery, and we're really sorry for the tragedy you went through…"
I rolled my eyes. Did they really just send one guy to give me their condolences? How many championships has the team won thanks to me? Could they make it any more obvious that they don't like me?
"They couldn't even send one of the coaches to offer condolences? Did you lose a bet or something?"
I sneered at the man. He let out an awkward laugh, avoiding eye contact, before letting out a long sigh.
"Man, you really are oblivious… Did you really think the whole team just sent a random player to pay their respects to you?"
This time, it was me who looked away. To be fair, I never paid much attention to who's who… they were all just 'teammates' to me. It's not like they saw me as anything more than just a guy who's really good at soccer.
"Jordan… we've played on the same team for three years now. Do you even know my name?"
Oof… he got me. This was awkward. I stayed silent for a moment, trying to remember the name of the guy on my team with dark skin and long locs. There weren't many players with darker skin on the team, but how was I supposed to know who's who? everyone is either player A and player B in my eyes.
"Rob…?"
I said, unsure. I felt a tiny bit guilty—after all, he was the only one who visited me besides my wife.
"It's Renold."
Close enough, right? There are like 50 people on the team. I can't possibly remember all of them. Renold let out a huff.
"Jordan… I've been the team captain for five years."
I probably should've at least remembered his name…
Renold looked at me with a half-smile. He definitely knew I had no clue about his position. The sound of the beeping machine filled the room again as both of us fell silent, with nothing else to say.
"Well, that's all I came here for. You can take it easy for now. We're currently in the off-season, so… use this time to recover as best as you can."
I guess the team hasn't been thinking of kicking me off… they have some decency, I suppose. Renold got up to leave but stopped at the door and looked back at me.
"By the way, who was the lady from earlier? Can you let her know I'm terribly sorry? I can pay for her laundry cleaning."
Oh, right… he probably thought she was covered in food because he bumped her with the door.
"It's fine… she's my wife. You don't have to worry too much. She's just… clumsy," I said, dragging out my answer. I almost blurted out "useless," but by the tone of his voice when he spoke to her earlier, he definitely seemed like one of those 'white knight' types.
"Ah… I see. Please tell Mrs. Blythe I'm sorry," he said, sounding much more meek compared to when he was talking to me earlier.
I chuckle... well she not gonna be Mrs. Blythe anymore once she learn about my injuries. I doubt she or her farmer family can affort a divorce lawyer but she definitly not going to get anything for me.