there's something with that Sophie and Jimmy dynamic that seems off.
Leave it to Tom to not let Jimmy breathe a minute. Right back to the grind, but like Brice said. Jimmy built like that. Makes sense that Jimmy is the polished version of Brice. He got to see what Brice did and didn't do, how people reacted, how he didn't want to be viewed. Kind of feels like Tom looks at it that way too. Brice was the trial run, Jimmy is for keeps type. Sucks to be Jimmy, he thinks he has less expectations on him, but he may have even more
there's something with that Sophie and Jimmy dynamic that seems off.
Leave it to Tom to not let Jimmy breathe a minute. Right back to the grind, but like Brice said. Jimmy built like that. Makes sense that Jimmy is the polished version of Brice. He got to see what Brice did and didn't do, how people reacted, how he didn't want to be viewed. Kind of feels like Tom looks at it that way too. Brice was the trial run, Jimmy is for keeps type. Sucks to be Jimmy, he thinks he has less expectations on him, but he may have even more
boy carrying that sad sack of shit team to bowl eligibility but yeah, one decent game smh
In regards to Sophie and Jimmy, your last point is why their dynamic is different. She is protective of hm while simultaneously and unintentionally also doing what Liz and Tom are doing which is trying to morph/shape Jimmy using Brice's 'failures'
Season 4, Episode 12
"How's the pain level today, Jimmy? Still managing with the medication I prescribed?" Dr. Mendez's voice was clinical but kind.
Jimmy shrugged, eyes fixed on the anatomical poster behind the doctor's head. "It's okay. Not as bad as yesterday."
Tom shifted in the plastic chair in the corner, his eyes fixed on Dr. Mendez’ hands as he pressed his fingers into the soft tissue around his son’s knee. "He was up most of the night."
"It wasn’t that bad," Jimmy muttered, partially embarrassed.
Dr. Mendez nodded, making notes on his tablet. "That's not unusual. The first week is always the worst." He continued his examination, gently manipulating Jimmy's leg. "Any other symptoms? Numbness? Tingling?"
Jimmy hesitated, then said, "My calf feels a little tight."
The doctor's hands moved down to Jimmy's calf, pressing carefully. "Completely normal after this type of procedure. The surrounding muscles tense up to protect the injured area. Keep doing your gentle stretches, and it should improve."
Tom leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "What else can he do to keep the surrounding muscle strong?"
"We're looking at a minimum of six months before any real athletic activity," Dr. Mendez said firmly. "Until he starts the physical therapy, just stretching for now."
The rest of the appointment passed in a blur of instructions, prescriptions, and follow-up appointments. Jimmy barely listened, his mind elsewhere. As they walked through the parking lot, the late autumn air bit through his thin jacket.
"What you want for dinner? We can stop by Gino’s or pick up some steaks," Tom asked, clicking the truck's remote.
Jimmy cleared his throat. "Actually, I was wondering if you could drop me at a friend's house?"
Tom helped him into the passenger seat, careful with his bandaged leg. "You sure you don’t want to eat something first? You didn’t eat much at lunch."
"I’m alright," Jimmy said, buckling his seatbelt.
Tom slid into the driver's seat, started the engine. "Alright, just try to eat something while you’re over at Landon’s."
Heat crept up Jimmy's neck, settling in his cheeks. "It’s actually Nia."
A slow grin spread across Tom's face as he pulled out of the parking lot. "Nia, huh? My bad, son. I wasn’t familiar with your game. There are worst ways to spend an evening."
"Come on," Jimmy turned to look out the window, wishing he could disappear.
Tom's laugh filled the cab of the truck. "Hey, I'm not judging. Just remember to wrap it up if things get... friendly."
"Oh my God," Jimmy sank lower in his seat, his knee forgotten in the wave of mortification washing over him. "We’re just friends."
"Of course, of course," Tom's eyes sparkled with amusement as he turned onto the main road. "That's what I told your mother too."
…
"How did that make you feel?"
The question felt loaded as Connie played with the sleeve of her sweater, the question rattling around in her mind way before Dr. Mendel had ever asked it.
"Relief, terrified, a little bit of both," she finally exhaled, "I don’t know, it’s like being handed something and being told not to drop it, you know?"
Dr. Mendel leaned back slightly. “What are you most afraid of dropping?”
“Our future,” she said immediately, then shook her head. "Like what does our future look like? What does getting back together look like? Are we just digging even further?"
Mendel nodded, encouraging her to continue.
“With Brice,” Connie went on, her voice quieter now, “I was always trying to earn something. His attention. His softness. Proof that I mattered more than football, more than whatever else was in his orbit that week. I loved him more than he loved me. And he knew it. That imbalance…it gave him all of the power in that relationship."
“And you’re worried about that dynamic repeating with Eli,” Mendel said, not as a question.
“Yes,” Connie said, almost relieved to hear it said out loud. “Except I know, I know…Eli isn’t Brice. He’s… kind. He listens. He doesn’t dominate a room. But part of me is waiting for the moment I tip too far again. Where I start shrinking. Where I start editing myself so I don’t scare him off.”
“What would ‘scaring him off’ look like?” Mendel asked.
"It’s like he’s fallen in…or likes this version of myself that he’s gotten to know," she explained, "But the more he knows about me, about my past, the more complicated things are going to get. The more I’m going to need from him, the more I’m going to want from him."
“You said Eli ‘took you back,’” Mendel said. “I’m curious about that language.”
Connie frowned. “What do you mean?”
“It suggests you were asking for permission. Or forgiveness,” she said. “As if you’re the one entirely at fault.”
She shrugged. “I did leave things out.”
“You did,” she agreed. “And you’ve acknowledged that. But omission isn’t the same as malice. Do you believe you lied to Eli, or do you believe you weren’t ready?”
Connie’s eyes welled. “I wasn’t ready,” she said. “I barely survived that period of my life. I still don’t know how to talk about it without feeling like I’m back there.”
“That’s trauma,” Mendel said calmly. “Not deceit.”
She nodded, wiping at her cheek. “I know that in here,” she said, "But out there, does everyone view it that way? I don’t know and I can’t really blame him if he doesn’t."
Mendel studied her. “What’s different about this relationship, Connie?”
She thought for a long moment. “He listens,” she said finally. “He doesn’t just hear me talk. And he doesn’t try to win.”
“And what’s different about you?”
Another pause. Longer this time. “I’m processing things in real time,” she said. “I’m allowing myself to feel things, process them, really process them and how they make me feel and what is it that I want instead of just going with the flow that I think I need to."
Mendel smiled, warm but measured. “That’s not nothing.”
“So what now?” Connie asked. “How do I stop giving all the power away?”
“You don’t stop all at once,” she said. “You notice when you’re about to."
Connie nodded slowly, letting the words settle.
“I don’t want to love someone from underneath them ever again,” she said.
“Then part of the work,” Mendel replied, “is believing you’re allowed to take up equal space.”
She leaned back against the couch, eyes closing for just a second.
“I want to try,” she said.
“I know,” Mendel replied. “And that matters.”
…
Brice rewound the play for the sixth time, still undecided on what his indicator should have been. The play has resulted in a completion but the deep-in by De’Nylon was there, one of the many routes that the veteran receiver had pointed out to Brice on the sideline.
He scribbled another note in his already cramped notebook. The room had emptied hours ago. His phone buzzed against the desk. Brice ignored it, focused on the screen where he'd frozen the frame on his footwork. Too narrow. No wonder the throw had been off-balance.
The phone buzzed again. Sighing, he glanced at the time in the corner of the monitor.
"Shit."
8:07 PM.
He was supposed to be on the road two hours ago. He grabbed his phone, scrolling through the missed texts. Three from his dad, the last one just asking if he was still coming.
Guilt twisted in his stomach as he typed: Sorry, lost track of time. Still at the facility. I’ll probably drive down on Sunday
He waited, tapping his pen against the desk. The reply came quickly.
All good, he’s hanging out with that Nia girl again. Our little bird is spreading his wings
Brice grinned, tension easing from his shoulders. He typed back: his wings or his seed lmao
you’re intent on sending me to an early grave
Brice laughed out loud in the empty room.
He set the phone down, turning back to the film, but the momentum was broken. His focus drifted. His phone lit up with another notification. Augustus this time, who never missed a chance to invite him to some function that the Ques were hosting, even if his last five texts went unanswered.
Brice hesitated, thumb hovering over the screen. He'd planned on another hour of film, then home to crash. But the thought of sitting alone in his apartment, replaying missed reads in his head until 3 AM, suddenly felt pathetic.
Maybe Mel would be there and that sliver of hope was enough motivation as he turned off the monitor, gathering his notebook and water bottle.
Jimmy about pull a Brice on Nia. She need to run now. That whole family got issues.
Connie talking about a future with a dude she’s known for four months. Bih crazy. Eli gonna have to talk her down from the ledge when he breaks up with her.
Brice need to stay his ass away from Black folks spaces.
Jimmy about pull a Brice on Nia. She need to run now. That whole family got issues.
Jimmy the good one, I'd be worried about the opposite. This Nia bitch plotting to baby trap him
Connie definitely a stage five clinger, trauma or not. Tbf, she is pretty fresh out of a DV-esque relationship where she should probably stay single a bit to find herself. Patterns gonna pattern.
Brice showing accountability in his own mistakes is growth I'll give him that. I hope he screws Mel over just so he gets stomped out, teach him some humility
