As we exit the restaurant the girls walking one way, probably towards the bus stop, and Cal and I to the valet stand to retrieve his car. Cal hands the worker his ticket, stepping over towards me to wait. I watch Camryn and Alyssa walk away from us, wondering why we aren't giving them a ride back to campus since we're all going to the same fucking place, but the obviously strained relationship that sibling duo has it none of my business. Instead, I push my hands further into the pockets of pants and begin to whistle, to fill the silence.

"Stop eye fucking my sister." Cal says, shoving his shoulder into mine. I quickly snap my eyes away from their direction, now aware that I was still watching them like a fucking werido.

"I wasn't!" I yell back with a chuckle.

"I saw the looks you two were giving each other. What the fuck was that?" Cal asks.

I snort again and bite my lip to hide my smile, thinking back to the pissy looks Camryn started giving me towards the end of dinner. I didn't think anyone noticed the looks as we silently challenged one another through repeated movements.

I swear she actually stopped breathing when I whispered in her ear by the bathroom. Girls like her are so easy to fuck with. So skittish, like my great aunt's cat who runs and hides under the couch anytime she has company, they just can't handle having other eyes on them.

"To be fair nine, you were eye fucking her roommate." I retort.

"That's a little different, dick."

"Well I was just giving you a chance with her, man." I say, shrugging.

"We all know that if it were an eye fucking competition, Allison would choose me." Cal protests. I shake my head at how stupid he is.

"Why don't you go ask Alyssa and we will find out?" I say back. I may not care much for details when it comes to girls, but I can at least try to remember their names.

Cal's face is still twisted with anger, and I can't tell if it's still about his sister. I'm about to let him know he has nothing to worry about, but Coach finally emerges from the restaurant, and pulls Cal off to the side for a conversation that doesn't include me. His arms are outstretched and resting on Cal's shoulder's. Every few seconds he alternates between pointing a middle finger at Cal's chest and then back towards the restaurant, the conversation obviously about something from dinner.

I pull my phone out to kill time, the valet must be rebuilding the car before they can drive it to us, we've been waiting here so long. As soon as I unlock it, I have a message followed by a picture in our family group chat. It's only me, my mom, and my sister though because my grandparents are the only two people above the age of sixty that refuse to get iphones.

Mama: Nana made your favorites tonight since I won't feel like eating after tomorrow.

Below the message is a picture of my family at the dinner table, my mom's arm outstretched to make sure she got everyone on the small screen. I can't see it all, but if it's my favorites I can only assume the table is filled with fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and green beans. But that's not what I focus on. Instead I look at their faces, memorizing my moms. The fullness to it, the color that fills her cheeks. The smile on her face that spreads to the others in the room.

I should be there with them. I should be the one helping my mom get ready for her treatments tomorrow, I should be the one taking her. I know deep down though, that even if I was there, she wouldn't let me. She's always wanted to handle it on her own, keeping me and Nora at arms length, out of everything as much as possible. She shut me out the last time, but I was still a kid. It made sense then, for her to keep so much from us. But now, I'm an adult and claim to be the one who's supposed to be the one taking care of them, but yet, here I am. Twelve hundred miles away and still not helping.

I picture myself at the table eating breakfast arguing the reasons I shouldn't have to go to school that day, the last time our family went through this. "All I need you to do is agree to watch whatever movie I want when I get home" she would say, "a hospital is no place for a kid to spend their day."

The bus would pull up and we would go our separate ways. Me and Nora to school and her to the hospital. And when we all got home we would watch movies. All three of us, snuggled up on the couch together, all evening. I've always done anything to make my mom happy. Even if it meant watching the Breakfast Club and Maid in Manhattan until I could quote them word for word.

I take a deep breath and text the group back. Reminding them I love them, and that I wish I could be there. And then I remind myself that the reason I am still here, standing outside of this restaurant, having spent my night with my coach and quarterback, is to hopefully get playing time soon. Playing time I need to work towards the draft. If I can get drafted, then I can take care of my family. I could give them whatever they want and need, making sure they're never let down again.

I close out of our message thread, seeing another from an unknown number.

Maybe Cassie?: Hey Taylor it's Cassie from the other night! I hope to see you at Union later :)

I hit the back arrow without texting her back, I never do, and I have no idea how she got my number. I don't make it a habit to give it out to people. I will probably end up at Union tonight, it's the best bar on campus and all I want is to drink enough to forget about the shit going on at home, but I also don't want some girl waiting for me, expecting something from me.

Just when I pull up Instagram and begin to scroll, Cal shoulder's past me, calling for me to follow him to his car that has finally arrived on the curb. I don't answer, just obey. Once we're settled inside, it's quiet for a few minutes. I continue to scroll on my phone, avoiding whatever the fuck is his problem, but Cal has another idea.

"How's your mom?" he asks.

"What are you talking about?" I question back.

"My dad told me, but only because he was asking me how you were handling it" Cal answers, but never once looking over at me. He doesn't actually care. I set my jaw, pissed that coach is once again talking about my life with Cal. If the coach wants to know how I am, he should ask me himself. Cal and I aren't close so I didn't feel the need to mention it to him. So I don't, I ignore him. He however, turns the music down. Waiting for me to respond.

"What the fuck is your problem?" I ask. "Don't act like you give a fuck."

Cal continues to drive, his speed increasing as he zips through cars on the highway. I'm not trying to be a buzzkill, but he's driving like an asshole for no reason. So I ask him again what his problem is.

"Cancer, right? What kind?" Cal asks. He's not taking my silence on the subject, so I indulge him. He probably already fucking knows, since I told coach the details after practice yesterday, needing to let him know that I might need to miss some of the season, asking if he had any ideas for how I could be in two places at once. He didn't. His only response was to keep him updated.

"Yeah, colon cancer. Stage four." I answer, saying it out loud still doesn't feel real. Like I'm reading a news headline, instead of talking about my mom.

"Stage four? Must be pretty bad, huh?" He asks, the first sign of a genuine question.

"I think stage five is the end. When they really can't do anything about it." I respond between tight lips. I chuckle a little at how little I'm giving away. Like I haven't been researching this shit every spare second that I have. Stage four anything is bad, but stage 4 colon cancer is practically the kiss of death from the reaper himself. Stage four means the cancer is spreading, fast, to all of her organs. Eating her alive from the inside out.

Her yearly scan showed one small gray lump, which must have been why she spoke so calmly when she finally shared the news with me. Thinking it was nothing, that it was something that would be similar to her previous experience. But after going back and having more tests done— I squeeze my eyes shut to stop the tears from filling my them.

When I get to this point, to the point where the tears threaten to fall, only two phrases run through me. So fucking unfair and why her have been used interchangeably in my mind for days now.

To distract myself from the confines of my mind, I keep talking. "They want her to try chemo. That's her only choice really. It's fucked that a drug that is supposed to heal you makes you just as sick. And did you know that chemo is like a thousand dollars even with insurance? You're supposed to have insurance to help take care of you when things happen, but they want to pick and choose what matters. I mean people with cancer can't work so how the fuck are they supposed to afford anything? How fucked up is that?" I realize I'm rambling now and that Cal could probably care less but talking about it has released some of the tension I've been holding on to, to verbalize the thoughts that have been consuming me.

The silence returns, Cal obviously doesn't have anything to say and I'm too overwhelmed to speak anymore. Instead, I stay silent as we continue to drive. Cal pulls into the garage underneath his apartment complex and parks in his assigned spot. When he turns the car off, he doesn't move, instead his head turns towards me.

"Are you worried about it? The money?" he asks.

I exhale audibly and shift lower in my seat, my hands gripping my knees. I'm pissed that his first thought is to ask about the money, not if I'm worried about my mom. But maybe he already knows that answer from the fact that I'm spilling my fucking guts to him right now.

"Fuck— Well yeah, nine. You don't know what it's like to be the man of the house, to have this fucking weight on your shoulders, telling you that you have to support and take care of other people. That they are depending on you. Why do you think I'm so worried about the fucking draft. I have to be able to provide for them. I'm not like you, I didn't grow up with fuck you money." I point around me, to his BMW, to his nice clothes, and watch. I don't even care if it pisses him off, he's a kid of privilege and he knows it. He fucking flaunts it any chance he gets. That's one reason I didn't really believe Camryn was his sister when I first saw her at his apartment. She's so average looking.

"What if I told you I would pay for the medicine every month?" Cal says.

"You mean your daddy would pay for it? I don't think so." I say and step out of the car and close the door to thank him for driving before heading home.

"I have a trust fund worth way more than a hundred rounds of chemo." Cal says proving my point, that he has never worried about money or basic needs a day in his life. "So one thousand dollars, it's not much. But it would at least let you pay for the medicine until you can get the contract you're chasing. Dr. Kramer sounds optimistic that you will play. Then you can pay for anything she needs. Come on man, I just want to help out."

When he finishes I eye him closely over the top of his car. He's resting his forearms on top, fingers interlaced. A relaxed look for someone who just offered me an amount of money that most people would have to work weeks if not months for.

I pause and begin the calculations in my head. It's already the end of August, I just need to make it to April. In April I can be drafted, I can sign my contract and take my signing bonus and spend it on whatever the fuck I want. I just need to buy more time. If I did take his money, pay for the treatment it could buy her seven more months. And then I could buy her more than that, I could find her even better doctors or options anywhere in the world. But even as good as the deal sounds, I'm not stupid. So I ask, "What's in it for you?" Cal doesn't hesitate, he knew the question was coming.

"I need— I need help looking after my sister," he says. I don't bother hiding the confusion from my face. Unless he has another sister I don't know about, he can't be serious.
"Camryn? She's a grown ass woman. hardly think she needs a babysitter."

"She's complicated...She's got problems. Or at least she did, she has been good for a while now. But if you haven't noticed she doesn't really have friends here. I worry about her, you know, fitting in and staying out of trouble."

"Not gonna lie nine, but it's fucked up. Can't you just do that yourself? Why don't you just ask her how she is?" The way he's talking it's like he's asking me to run left instead of right on a play we've practiced a hundred times. A simple switch up, something so normal.

"We aren't really close and she wouldn't talk to me anyways. She seems to not want to rip your dick off, so it's perfect." He offers.

"Aren't y'all twins, nine? Don't twins have a connection or some shit?" I say wiggling my fingers at my temple signifying waves.

"Nah, that shits made up " Cal says but looks down at his hands as he says it. Making me think he doesn't agree with what he's saying.

I'm still trying to make sense of what he's asking. Still confused, I ask, "Let me get this straight, you want to pay me to watch your sister? Like spying on her because you can't just ask her how she's doing? That's kind of fucked up, nine."

"Stop saying it's fucked! I'm not paying you to watch her like a baby. It's me giving you a favor for doing me a favor. I help you help your mom, you help me help my sister. I'm just asking you to check in when you see her. Just let me know if she seems...I don't know, different." he says now making his way around to the passenger side of the car. Now we're standing a few feet apart.

"No offense, nine, but she already seems different." I retort.

"Being a bitch is not different for her. That is her, I mean like..." He stops for a second as if looking for the words, "I mean if she seems distant, not like her bitchy self. Like she doesn't make jokes or shit. That is when I would be worried. But like I said she's been good for a while so it should be the easiest money you've ever made."

The easiest money ever made would be having a trust fund because you were born, like him. But I don't say that, instead I answer him honestly, "I don't know, nine. I need the money but babysitting has never been on my resume." Not that anything besides football is on my resume but checking in on his pain in my ass sister definitely isn't on there.

"Let's change the terms to be a little more definite. I help you out through football season. And then you can get a job. I mean come on. You know you can't rehab, practice, go to school AND work to pay for your mom. You said it at dinner, you see my sister anyways at the tutor center. You just have to tell me how she's doing...Like once a week. That's not bad at all."

I stare at him, trying to process what he's saying. When I shrug and try to bullshit another solution for how I will make thousands of dollars quickly he shuts me down.

"What? Do you think you're going to secretly sign some autographs or something? The only way to make that type of money is by doing something against our rules. This won't be. It will be money coming from me to you. I don't think there is anything in the NCAA handbook that says two players can't exchange money."

I can't ignore how right he is. There is no way that I could find another job with everything else going on, and that the fastest ways to make money are against the stupid rules set by our league.

I'm now extra grateful that my scholarship includes housing and a stipend for meals. That, and the fact that even if i'm not allowed to accept them, people buy my drinks or pay my cover wherever I go out. Leaving the small amount of money I earned working for a lawn care company over the summer as spending money. But between rehab, workouts, and practices even that wouldn't be enough to provide any extras. And not even a fraction of a round of chemotherapy.

I feel like I'm being backed into a wall with no other choices. I run my hands down my face. Contemplating all the choices I don't have.