Hat Trick 3: Penalty Shot (23 page)

“I talked to this guy, Randy, a bit, because we ended up in the waiting room. Simon,” he looked away from me, “he was so sad. He’d been in the chair for two months and the doctors weren’t sure he was going to get out of it.” I felt the shudders radiating out from his core. He gripped me like his life depended on it. “What if I end up like that?”

“We’ll deal with it. You asked before if I’d carry you, absolutely. Whatever it takes.” I kissed the top of his head. “But, you know, the doctors all expect you’ll be able to manage this. They say you’ll be skating before break.”

He nodded.

“We should be celebrating that, not wondering if you’re going to end up in a wheelchair. Hell, I could be in an accident today and end up there.”

“Don’t you dare say that,” he said, giving me a stern look. “That’s not funny.”

“I wasn’t being funny. It’s true. You know that as well as I do. We play a sport that could do it to us, too. It sucks what happened to Randy, but for all you know he went against doctor’s orders and made it worse on his own. You’re doing everything right. But make no mistake, if you were to end up in a chair, or stuck in bed, or whatever, I’m here and we’ll deal.” He rested his head on my shoulder. “Did you talk about this?”

“Yeah.”

“And?”

“Dr. Wilcox said basically the same thing you did. As long as I keep doing what I’m doing, the prognosis looks good. He cautioned that it’s always possible because MS can do unexpected things, but by and large there were no signs that I’d be in a chair anytime soon, if ever.” He kept looking at me. “Sorry. It’s silly I’m going on like this.”

“No, it’s not. This is scary shit.”

He laughed softly. “I’ll talk to Dr. Sharon about it, too. I see her tomorrow.” A panicked look came across his face. “My mom
can’t
know about this.”

“Of course not.” She certainly wasn’t going to hear it from me. She wasn’t talking to me these days anyway. “How much do you tell her?”

“Pretty much everything. It’s easier to give her all the details. I mean there’s really no reason not to. And it’s easier than editing it and then forgetting that I did. She’s not happy that it looks like I’m going to play.” He pulled back to look at me. “I had to remind her I was actually an adult now and could make my own decisions.”

The distress of a few minutes ago was gone. This look wasn’t sexual, but it reminded me of the deep connection we’d had a few weeks back when we were making out so intensely. He was looking deep into me and a rush of pure love surged through me as if we were trading something vital.

“We’re going to have an amazing life together,” he said suddenly.

“Yes we are,” I said softly, and then quickly amended, “we already are.”

“True,” he said, resting his forehead against mine, all the while maintaining his deep gaze. “But it’s going to be so much more, too. We’ve done so much already, can you imagine the things we’ll be able to take on in our thirties, or in our fifties? It’s going to be incredible.”

I’d known for a couple years that we were in this for the long term. Nothing he said scared me. Instead I was filled with love and determination. Continuing to build a life with him would be incredible.

We kissed and it was infused with so much love it nearly overwhelmed me. I hope he felt it, too, because it was amazing. He moved, barely disconnecting our lips, so he could straddle me. I wrapped my arms around his back while the kisses continued. My body vibrated from the intimacy of our connection.

After a few minutes he gently pulled back. “You need to go, too. You’ve got kids waiting for you.” He kissed me again gently, before he sat back, pinning my legs.

“You gonna be okay?”

“I am. For sure.” His smile told me that was true.

“I’ll be home around nine, earlier if I can.”

He stood and I was glad to see he was moving okay. Some days after therapy he was a little on the sore, creaky side. He offered me a hand up.

“Come home when you’re done. I’ll lay in some dinner supplies so we can eat.” He wrapped me in a light hug. “Thank you.”

I laid my head on his shoulder. “I’m here. Anytime.”

“I know.”

His head laid against my shoulder and we held that for a few moments before I faced him again.

“I love you,” I said, my nose touching his.

“I love you, too.”

As I gathered up my stuff, he watched me. I didn’t know what exactly had happened, but the strong love we already had for each other had increased incrementally in the past couple months. It made me think of the traditional wedding vow of “those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder.” Nothing was going to break us, nothing could.

“Alright,” I said, after I was packed up and had let Trevor know I was on my way. “See you in a few hours. If you need anything, call me. I’ll pick up for you.”

We hugged and kissed one more time.

“Will do.”

He walked me to the door and watched as I headed for the stairs. We waved, and I made the super cheesy move of blowing a kiss to him, which he was equally cheesy about catching.

Rainbow High was leading against the Cannonballs two-to-one in the second period. Scottie was like a machine, stopping virtually anything that came his way. The one he missed was bouncy and he just couldn’t secure the puck before it went over the line. Meanwhile, our offense was on it, keeping a lot of play in our offensive zone. After last week’s win, the team had a new fire. They knew they could win, and the games were about making up ground and trying to get into the playoffs.

I was behind the bench today, with Hillary as a change of pace. Trent was in the stands with Alex, while Danny was with Sara and his parents, who’d come up for the weekend.

I relayed most of my comments through Hillary since I didn’t want to disrupt her authority. I enjoyed watching from here though, and being able to celebrate for the goals.

Rainbow High suddenly broke out. Scottie had deflected a puck, creating a rebound, which our defense knocked away to TJ. He handled the pass perfectly and pivoted so he could skate towards the opposing goalie. Walt fell in and skated with him. TJ did most of the carrying and sent it to Walt just before he was cut off by the defense and sent into the boards.

A whistle blew just before Walt shot, but from our bench we couldn’t see why. There was a commotion on the Cannonballs bench. The refs, however, didn’t call for a penalty.

“It’s TJ. He’s down.” Scottie yelled from the net.

Hillary was closest to the boards so she looked over to see. “I can’t tell what’s happening. Too many people clustered around.”

Bryan, who was on the bench, immediately jumped over and headed towards the scene.

“Bryan!” I shouted to no avail. If he heard me, he ignored it. He could get a penalty for that. When a man was down, players weren’t supposed to come on the ice.

I stood up on the bench itself to get more of an aerial view. TJ was lying half in and half out of the Cannonballs bench. The door must’ve opened with the hit and he fell through. As I stepped down, Walt skated over.

“You better come over here,” Walt said.

“The rest of you stay on the bench we don’t want to take penalties,” I said as Hillary and I exited.

Knowing how to move on ice, even in sneakers, I moved quickly along the boards with Hillary taking a more cautious approach behind me. Bryan was clustered, at a distance with our other players, separate from the Cannonballs’ players that had been on the ice at the time. The Cannonballs’ coach was near the door.

I moved around one of the refs standing by the door and came around to stand in front of TJ’s legs. I was glad to see his eyes open and he looked aware.

“You okay, TJ?”

“I think so. I can breathe now. Can’t figure out how to get up though.”

“He had a moment where he may have been knocked out, too,” the coach said. “I’m not sure if he was just in pain or if it was something else, but it took him a bit to open his eyes.”

I nodded, thinking for a few seconds. “You want help up, TJ, or do you want first aid to come in with a stretcher?”

“I think I just need help. I can’t figure out how to get a grip on anything.”

It was easy to see why. He was on his back, lying over the baseboard that rose up from the ice. His legs were on the ice while his upper body was on the floor, right next to the bench, so he really didn’t have room to even turn over to push himself up.

“Okay, let’s do this. Coach if you and this big guy here,” I indicated one of their biggest players, “can support him under the shoulders and bring him up to get him on his feet. I’ll be on this side and,” this time I looked behind me, “Bryan come up here. As you pass him forward you’ll give him over to us.”

To those watching, it was a little odd probably that I picked Bryan, who was not the biggest of our guys on the ice, but he’d feel better if he was helping. Walt gathered TJ’s stick and gloves since they were in the way of him getting up.

“TJ, you got what we’re going to do?”

“Yeah.”

I looked at the two inside the bench. “On three, okay?” They both nodded. “One, two, three.” They lifted him and TJ got his feet planted on the ice. Bryan and I flanked him. Both benches tapped their sticks as we started moving.

“We’re going to take you off the ice,” I said. “If you’re okay, you can come back in the third.”

He nodded.

“T, you want me to hang with you?”

“Hell no, you gotta game to play.” TJ didn’t leave that open for discussion.

“He’s right,” I said. “We’ll make sure he’s okay. Tell Hillary I’m going to take care of TJ and I’ll come back to the bench for the third if I can.”

“Right, coach.”

As we got to the rink door, Trent and Alex stood waiting at the open door. The refs on the ice blew a whistle and called a penalty, two minutes on the other team for delay of game, for having the door ajar.

“I’ll see you soon, T,” Bryan said, putting his hand on the grill of TJ’s facemask.

Trent steadied TJ while a ref got the door closed. The game was starting up as if it was an off-side call, with the face off just outside our offensive zone. We sat TJ on the first row of bleachers and he removed his helmet.

“How you feeling?” I asked.

“Dazed. The fall knocked the wind out of me. I don’t think I was knocked out, it just took me a second to open my eyes, you know?”

“How’s your head feel?”

“Fine. No headache. I’m not dizzy really. Just need to shake it off.”

“How many fingers am I holding up?” Trent asked.

“Three,” was the immediate answer. He stretched, arms over his head and side-to-side and grimaced. “Something’s not right.” He looked under his right arm and I saw what he probably couldn’t.

“You ripped your jersey.” I moved to get a closer look. “And you’re bleeding. You must have hit the door latch on your way down.” I moved the fabric aside, between the jersey and the undershirt. He hissed as I touched him. “Yeah, you’ve got a gash here.”

“Dammit. Am I going to be able to go back out?”

I looked at the clock. There were still ten minutes in this period, if we were fast it’d be yes. “We’ll try. Trent, go get the first aid kit. Alex, hit the pro shop and get a new undershirt. Let’s go, TJ.”

I offered support, which he refused. He walked well, the only wobble was the usual walking-in-skates one. I got the door unlocked and we entered. “Take off your jersey and undershirt and let’s see what we’re dealing with.

He stripped off the jersey. “You’re going to see.”

I’d considered the ramifications of my request before I made it. “I know. I wouldn’t put you in that position if there was any choice. The wound’s in a place where you can reach it yourself. It’s your choice. I can look at it and bandage you or…” Trent came in and we stopped talking.

“First aid kit,” he said, handing it over. I told the league guy it was a minor cut and we had it. “What can I do?”

“Stand outside. Make sure no one comes in.” I saw TJ’s expression in the corner of my eye. “Not even Alex. I’ll get the shirt when we’re ready.”

Trent hesitated for a moment, but then it clicked for him. “Got it.” He walked out without another word.

“Thanks,” TJ said. He took off his shoulder pads, elbow pads and finally the undershirt. I went to wet some paper towels and bring some dry ones, too. When I returned he sat on a bench, facing the lockers, with only a sports bra covering his upper body.

I talked minimally as I treated the cut. I didn’t think it needed stitches, it was more a series of scrapes, some of which were bleeding more than others. I cleaned, ran some peroxide over it and applied two large square bandages to the area, and taped them down. There was a large cloth wrap in the kit. That would be helpful.

“TJ, I want to wrap this around you to make sure the bandages stay in place in case the tape gives way with sweat. Sound good?”

“Sure.”

“You’re going to have to help with that as we pass it around you. I’ll secure it next to the bandage.”

“Okay.”

We got the wrapping done quickly. I went to the door to get the shirt and check on the game.

“You’ve got three minutes to go,” Alex said. “We’re up another one, too.”

“Great. We’ll be out in a second.”

I gave the shirt to TJ, who continued facing the lockers. I hoped this wasn’t going to come between us, but we did what had to be done. He put the shirt on and turned to face me as he stretched around a bit, seeing how the bandages felt.

“Thanks, Simon.”

“You’re welcome. You should make sure that bandage is changed after you shower and use some antibacterial ointment or something on it as it heals.”

“I will. My mom will help.” He was already putting gear on.

“Perfect.”

“Will you help me bandage it again after I shower?”

“Of course.”

“Let’s get out there,” he said, a smile breaking out across his face. “There’s more game to play.”

He led the way out of the locker room and I hung back with Trent and Alex.

“All fixed up?” Trent asked.

“Yeah. Major scrapes under his arm.”

“Ouch,” Alex said. “That’s gonna sting.”