Rugged mountains encircled them like sentinels, draped in cloaks of silence. The ancient wall sighed as they stood on its back, following in the footsteps of the thousands who came before them. Nevertheless, it snaked through the rough terrain, endlessly and persistently, as it had for millennia.
The wall cut a striking figure amongst the explosion of red, orange, and green foliage before it disappeared into the low-hanging mist in the distance. Every so often a breeze swept by, carrying with it the whispers of history—the dynasties that rose and fell; the ghosts of emperors past and lives sacrificed; the faded screams of ancient warriors who’d fought on this very land.
Goosebumps erupted on Blake’s skin. He found it hard to wrap his mind around the fact that he was standing on thousands of years of history. He remembered visiting the Alamo as a kid and marveling at how old it was.
Compared to the Great Wall, the Alamo was a freakin’ fetus.
“He always wanted to come here.”
Blake sat next to Farrah. His feet sighed in relief. “Who?”
“My dad.”
“There’s still time. I have a feeling the wall will be here for a while,” Blake joked.
Farrah looked down. “He died four years ago.”
Ah, fuck. “I’m so sorry.” Blake felt like an ass. He couldn’t do anything right these days.
“It’s ok. You didn’t know.” Her smile wobbled and lasted five seconds before it fell.
It broke Blake’s heart. He was shit at comforting people. He never knew what to say, and tears made him more uncomfortable than a nun who stumbled into an orgy. If this were anyone else, Blake would’ve gotten the fuck outta there.
But this wasn’t anyone else. This was Farrah.
He placed a tentative arm around her shoulders. To his relief, she didn’t pull away.
“My dad spent most of his life in China and never saw its most famous landmark.” Farrah played with the pendant around her neck. “He used to tell me we’ll visit together. One day, he said, we’ll fly to Beijing and walk the entire wall, from one end to the other. It’ll be the greatest father-daughter hike ever taken. I was only seven at the time, but even I knew it was impossible to walk the entire wall. Still, I liked imagining it. It seemed like a great adventure.”
Her voice thickened with unshed tears.
Blake squeezed her tight, wishing he could do more to help.
Farrah sniffled and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “Anyway, tell me about your dad. Are you guys close?”
Blake swallowed. He had to battle his instinct to avoid the question before he got his answer out. “We were. Once. A long time ago.”
When he was a kid, his dad would take him to the zoo and make funny faces imitating the animals until Blake howled with laughter. He took Blake fishing every two months and almost came to blows with Ted Crenshaw’s dad after Ted pushed Blake at recess and Blake skinned his knee.
Then Blake grew up and displayed a talent for football. His dad stopped being his dad and started being his coach. He never switched back.
“What happened?”
“We grew apart.” Blake played with the ends of Farrah’s hair. They slipped across his fingers like silk. “We have different ideas of how I should live my life.”
“I’m guessing he didn’t want you to quit football.”
He barked out a laugh devoid of humor. “That’s putting it mildly. His biggest dream is for me to sign with the NFL. He played college ball too, you know, but he tore his ACL and that ended his pro dreams. So he lived those dreams through me until I quote-unquote ‘threw my future away’ because I’m an idiot who can’t do anything right except throw a ball.”
Farrah lifted her head to look at him. “That’s not true. I’ve seen how hard you work. You’re definitely more than a meathead.”
“Maybe.” Blake wasn’t sure. He spent most of his life so focused on football he didn’t have time to do much else. He was a business major, and he did well in his classes, but he didn’t have any business experience except for a summer internship after his sophomore year. He had to fight his father tooth and nail on that one. Joe Ryan didn’t understand why Blake would throw away a summer’s worth of pre-season prep to toil in an office.
He thought about his idea to start his own sports bar, but that was all he did—think about it. Blake was too afraid of what might happen if he tried to do it. The last thing he wanted was to fail and prove his father right.
“Not maybe. For sure.” Farrah’s tone brooked no opposition. “Trust me, meatheads do not pick up Mandarin as quickly as you have.”
Blake’s mouth quirked up. “Know a lot of Mandarin-learning meatheads, do you?”
“I’m from L.A. You’d be surprised.” She rubbed her arms. Blake pulled her closer. The nip in the air felt good when they were walking, but it started to bite after they stopped moving. “So why did you quit football? Most guys would kill for a chance to join the NFL.”
She wasn’t the first person to ask him that question, but she was the first person he wanted to tell the truth to.
Blake weighed his words before he answered.
“A week after we won the national championship, I ran into Dan Griffin’s wife at an alumni event. He was a Mustangs quarterback back in the day. One of the best. Played for sixteen seasons in the NFL before he retired and became a sports broadcaster.” A lump formed in Blake’s throat when he remembered the look in her eyes. She’d been so sad and angry it wrenched his heart. “He died of CTE a few days before the event.”
Chronic traumatic encephalopathy, a degenerative brain disease found in those with a history of repetitive brain trauma—such as the concussions football players often endured on the field.
Blake had heard of CTE before. He never expected it to affect someone he knew, especially not someone as larger-than-life as Dan. He was invincible, or so it seemed.
Farrah’s eyes widened. “Oh my god.”
“I was close to Dan. He came to all the games and was my mentor, in a way, but I only met his wife a few times. She wasn’t much into the football world, and I didn’t know why she wanted to talk to me specifically except…” Blake looked down. “To warn me, I guess. To get out while I can. She didn’t want what happened to Dan to happen to me.”
Their paths were similar. Both Blake and Dan were Texas born and bred, high school football stars who chose to attend TSU after a recruitment war between the country’s top Division I schools. Both Heisman winners groomed for the NFL. Both buoyed and weighed down by the expectations of those around them.
There was only one difference.
“Dan loved football,” Blake said. “He lived for it and, in the end, died for it. I like football, but it was always more for my father than myself. I would’ve been happy being a normal student instead of a so-called sports star.” Sometimes he fantasized about what his life would’ve been like had that been the case. Would his relationship with his father be any different, or would they have been at odds over something else? Would his father have resented Blake for not following the football path he himself wanted but couldn’t take? “I don’t want to die for something I don’t love.”