Bigger than Numbers

“Trauma. I’ve been hearing that word a lot lately. Trauma....trauma.... trauma. Almost sounds trivial when it's repeated, like a professor repeating the definition of a vocabulary term nobody’s going to remember by Thursday’s quiz. I don’t know...maybe they just like hearing themselves talk.

“Is that what you think we do Darren?” his therapist asked while taking notes in her small black notebook.

“Huh?” he asked, tuning back in. Darren had a habit of zoning out when he rambled. Oftentimes, not realizing he’s said something out loud until someone around him responds.

“I said, is that what you think we do, repeat ourselves because we like the sound of our voices?” she repeated, her hazel eyes studying him quizzingly.

“Oh, no not necessarily. I guess...what I’m trying to say is, I keep hearing the word trauma, but for some reason it doesn’t have any meaning to me,” Darren admitted, his brown eyes anxiously scanning the clock that hung on the wall behind Dr. Barlowe. He wasn’t necessarily in a hurry to get out of there, nor did he hate being here, he just didn’t think he needed to be. Accidents happen, he thought to himself. Troy was still alive, just banged up. It’s not like they expected him to—

“Do you want to talk about that day Darren?” She asked hesitantly. No, not really, he thought to himself. He was sick of that question, he already answered it thousands of times. To his family, to the police, to the doctors, to their followers, if she wanted to hear him explain it, just watch the video, it’s already been viewed 11 million times.

When he didn’t answer, Dr. Barlowe sighed and pulled back the sleeve of her cardigan slightly, revealing a jagged scar on her arm.

“When I was ten, a drunk driver blew through a stop sign and spun my mom’s car into a tree,” she admitted flatly, pulling her sleeve back down once Darren got a good look. “We survived...physically,” she sighed deeply, “But underneath we would never be the same. Every time I get in a car, I remember that day. I see a driver make one move out of the ordinary and my heart stops...my blood runs cold. My point is Darren, trauma manifests itself in ways that may not be immediately noticeable to us. Oftentimes when we’ve experienced a traumatic event, it's easier for us to be numb towards the situation,” she said gently, leaning back and picking up her small black notebook.

“I see you’ve deactivated your social media platforms,” she noted, scribbling something down quickly before meeting his eyes.

“Why would I keep them?” Darren snapped, standing abruptly before pacing back and forth. “What good have they brought me? My best friend is in the hospital with fractured ribs and a broken leg because of me,” he hissed, “all for what? Someone in the comments dared us to do it?” Darren sat in frustration, allowing his anger to settle in the air. “No offense, Dr. Barlowe but I don’t think therapy is what I need,” he said sharply, “No. What I need is to go be there for my friend, who is stuck in a hospital bed with his leg in two,” he hissed as he grabbed his backpack and stormed out of her office, slamming the door behind him.

When he reached the bus stop, he couldn’t help but feel guilty for taking his anger out on Dr. Barlowe. She was just trying to help him process his emotions, but Darren didn’t have any. He knew it was stupid, it was reckless for him and Troy to put themselves in harm’s way for views. As the bus screeched to a stop and Darren boarded, paying his fare and grabbing a seat all the way in the back, he couldn’t help but think that everyone knew him. That everyone had seen that video or the news. That they were all silently judging him. It was the opposite with Troy. He was loving the attention, he may be injured, but he was still the same old Troy.

“Hey Killer,” Troy smiled, when Darren walked into his hospital room.

“Hey T, how you feeling?” Darren asked gently, setting his backpack on the empty chair.

“Well, leg still broken, ribs still fractured, but I am two pick-up lines away from getting that nurse’s number,” Troy smirked, waving at the nurse standing at reception who rolled her eyes in response. Darren couldn’t help but chuckle at his oldest friend. Even in a hospital bed, he was still Troy, the ladies' man.

“You know our video is up to 15 million, was retweeted by Joe Rogan,” Troy beamed, “We gotta post an update D,” he grinned, eager to get started. His smile faded when he noticed Darren wasn’t as excited. “What’s wrong? I know that look,” Troy asked, “That’s Darren’s, this is a bad idea look,” he raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms.

“Troy, you have a broken leg,” Darren huffed, pacing back and forth. He hadn’t told Troy about therapy, or the guilt that’s been eating at him since being in that ambulance, not knowing whether or not Troy would open his eyes.

“So what? I’ll heal, and when I do...I’ll board down Canton Ave the right way,” Troy smiled, reaching for a small box on the nightstand next to his hospital bed, tossing it into Darren’s arms.

“What’s this?” Darren asked, opening the box skeptically. Troy didn’t answer, he just grinned until Darren opened it and pulled out four small metal blades.

“Are these?” Darren beamed in disbelief.

“Yup, ice skate blade attachments, good for any skateboard, any rink, any frozen lake, good enough for Canton Ave,” Troy smirked, “got a set for you too,”

“How did you get these? They’re hundreds of dollars T,” Darren asked confused. His question was cut off by a nurse, followed by a man in a leather jacket.

“Sorry Mr. Jameson, but you have a visitor, says he’s sort of in a hurry,” she said flatly, moving out of the man’s way and closing the door softly behind her.

“Troy Jameson, Darren Johnson?” he asked warmly, extending his hand out to shake both of theirs. “My name is River Hammond, I’m the owner of Daredevils Weekly,” he said, stopping to notice the small opened boxes.

“I see you got my gift,” River chuckled, setting down his briefcase.

“You’re R.H. Paige? Troy asked, confused, shifting his weight in his hospital bed.

“The one and only,” he laughed, “Satchel Paige was a baseball player from the Negro Leagues. He was my grandpa’s favorite,” River confessed fondly, “ He said to me: Kid, keep that head on your shoulders and like Satchel, be bigger than the numbers,” he smiled as he reminisced, doing the best impression of his grandfather. “and when Daredevils Weekly made its first million, I started donating money under the alias River Hammond Paige,” he admitted with a smirk, “but enough about me, I’m here to talk about you boys,” he grinned as he whipped out his phone.

“Ever since I put your video on my website, we’ve gotten more traction since I’ve launched it five years ago,” River chuckled. Darren and Troy were blown away by this news. “You know when I got into the media business,” he continued, sitting down in the spare chair next to Darren’s backpack, “I wasn’t worried about money or numbers, I wanted a space to highlight the fearless, the bold, the adrenaline junkies, the...daredevils,” he laughed, “and you boys, skateboarding down Canton Ave, one of the steepest streets not just in Pittsburgh, but the United States?” River questioned in amazement, “and you waited until it froze over?” he asked, turning to Troy.

“Mhmm, our stunt got so much buzz before we even got there that the instant it froze we were notified,” Troy bragged, “15,000 retweets in 2 hours,” he smirked.

Darren remembered that day, he had woken up to his phone vibrating every few seconds. He only read it for a minute before he tore it from the charger and ran out of his apartment.

“Troy! Troy! Wake up!” he pounded eagerly, too impatient to wait for his friend to peel himself from his mattress before using the spare key underneath his mat. “Troy, wake up!” he beamed with excitement, bursting through his bedroom door, jumping on his bed until Troy fell out of it. He looked up at Darren with anger and confusion, “This better be good, I’m six seconds from punching you,” Troy groaned, cranky from being woken up early.

“Canton is frozen,” Darren smirked, crossing his arms before tossing his phone into Troy’s hands. Troy scrolled for two minutes before a huge grin appeared on his face.

“Let’s go,” he said calmly, both boys rushing to get dressed, racing onto the slippery streets.

“I want to post an update,” Troy continued, pulling Darren out of his thoughts, “but D doesn’t think it’s a good idea,” he said mockingly, raising an eyebrow at him.

“A good idea?” River stood in excitement, “it’s a fantastic idea, not only that, but when that leg heals I want you back on the hill–”

“No,” Darren snapped, cutting him off,

“No?” Troy asked Darren, in disbelief that his best friend was actively trying to block them from a huge opportunity to grow their fanbase.

“Troy...I deactivated our accounts,” he said hesitantly, wanting nothing more than to protect his friend.

“Well, I think you need to reactivate them,” River said calmly, looking down at his phone before showing it to Darren, and then to Troy. “That’s $20,000 ready to be sent to your Paypal, two clicks away from going into you boys’ bank account, but I gotta know,” he paused briefly, “are you ready to be bigger than numbers?”

10 weeks later

“And we’re live here at the top of Canton Avenue, one if not the most steepest streets in the United States,” a news reporter stated as a large crowd cheered from the sidewalk, “With me today, is owner and founder of Daredevil’s Weekly, River Hammond and his two new daredevils, Pittsburgh’s own, Darren Johnson and Troy Jameson,” she smiled brightly, “You boys have certainly brought a lot of buzz to our little steel city,” she chuckled, “Tell me Mr. Jameson, are you nervous about reattempting this stunt considering you broke your leg just a few months ago?” she asked, leaning the mic toward him.

“Nervous? No,” Troy chuckled, “In fact, the day Mr. Hammond here encouraged me to give Canton another shot, was four days after my leg had been broken. So nervous? Not a chance,” he smirked, “I’m ready,”