27. Griffin
The guard knocks at the locker room door, and Lydia and I quickly pull apart. We’re both disheveled from gripping onto each other’s hair, and my heart skips a beat when I see that I’ve left marks from my stubble on her face.
Lydia scratches at her neck. “I like the stubble. Are you going to grow it out?”
I shake my head. “It gets too patchy. But I like how it looks like I’ve made my imprint on you,” I say, caressing her cheek.
She rolls her eyes. “It is a little itchy, not going to lie.”
The guard opens the door and doesn’t turn. Just yells out to us, “Game’s over, lovebirds.”
“Looks like that’s my cue.” Lydia stands up, and I follow her to the door. “I’ll see you later?”
I give her a quick peck. “Text me your room number? I’ll swing by when I’m done here.”
“Sure thing. Although, I can’t guarantee I’ll be in my room. Something tells me I should be pressing my luck tonight. Looks like I’m on a streak.”
“I think it’s me who’s the luckiest guy in the world. I love you.”
“Love you, too,” she says and gets up to exit the locker room. I peer up at the television in the top corner of the room to see the banner of the final score.
Three to nothing. Makes sense when two of your best players don’t play the majority of the game. And after Micah’s traumatic injury, who wants to think about anything else?
Slowly, the team begins entering the locker room. Everyone’s faces are sullen, devoid of any happiness. I hate that it feels like the universe, or whatever divine being out there, has it out for us. How can we get put through something like this weeks before the playoffs? I want to scream, “But I’ve been a good person!” Well, I did get my girlfriend back, so I guess out of the entire team, I’m getting the best outcome.
Ross sits down next to me, and when the rest of the team sits down, Coach is the last to enter. No Micah. I hope Coach will address any updates about him. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget seeing him lying down on his back on the ice. His body unable to move, and his face wincing in pain. It’s the worst thing that could happen: seeing your teammate hurt. And when it’s someone who has been on this wild journey as a pro athlete with you from the very start, your insides ache almost as if you’re feeling their pain.
“Hey,” I say, nudging Ross. “How was the rest of the game?”
His expression is blank, and he doesn’t answer me. I lean over to get a better look at him and see that his eyes are swollen, probably from crying. Somehow, I’ve held it together, even though I almost broke when we were on the ice together. But I saw Lydia, and I felt like I needed to stay strong for her. Now that she isn’t here, I feel like I might also be one step closer to falling apart.
“I’ll talk to you after we clean up,” he whispers.
“Have you heard any news about Micah?”
He shakes his head, and before I can ask a follow-up question, Coach claps his hands to get our attention.
“Um,” he begins. His voice lacks any of the confidence that I’m so used to him carrying. “I know that wasn’t our best game. And I know you guys want an update on Stone. So, we’ll do that first. Micah was rushed to the hospital, and the last update they gave me was that they took some X-rays and confirmed he had broken his leg. He’ll be out for at least six weeks and won’t be playing for the rest of the season. Markey,” Coach turns to me. “What’s up with you? You doing okay?”
“Yeah, Coach,” I swallow. “They just checked me for a concussion, and I passed.”
“Okay, that’s good.” Just those words of affirmation, and Coach suddenly has relief written all over his face.
Coach continues to discuss some of the things that he wished we did better about during the game. Stuff that I didn’t see happen because my eyes were closed and my lips were kissing Lydia’s. I know I should have been paying attention, so I could feel ready for the next game, but the moment Lydia called out for me with worried eyes, there was nothing that mattered more than getting her next to me, and eventually in my arms.
Check and check.
He dismisses everyone and Ross holds his phone out to me.
“Hey, did you get Micah’s text?”
I peer over at Ross’s phone, where Micah has sent a text to our group.
Micah: hey when you guys are done @ the arena can you come see me
“He just dropped a pin where he’s at, it’s just behind the Wynn.”
“Um, shit.” I hurry to pack my bags. “Yeah, do you want me to call a car?”
“Yeah, can you? And if anyone asks, just tell them we decided to hitch a ride back to the hotel together.”
Thankfully, no one pries, and in a few short minutes, a car comes to take us to the hospital, where they’re keeping Micah for the night. He tells us what room he’s in and we speed walk, carrying all our equipment to his room.
When we get inside, we see Micah lying on the bed in a hospital gown. He’s got a cast on his leg and some IVs stuck in his arms. Wheel of Fortune is playing on the television. Beside him are the remnants of the sad hospital food that they gave him. It looks like he’s devoured most of it, and weirdly, it makes my stomach grumble. The way I could go for an entire buffet spread right now between the playing and the stress that’s bubbled up inside me. I’m starving.
“Hey, man,” I put my bag down in the corner and stand next to his bed. Ross joins me at the foot. “How are you doing?”
“Awful,” Micah murmurs. “My leg’s broken. I was diagnosed with a concussion. I’ve got needles in my body. I hate hearing the beeping on the monitors telling me I’m still kicking.” He turns to me. “How are you, Griff? Did you get tested too?”
“Yeah,” I nod. “They ruled out a concussion, thankfully.”
“That’s good.”
“We lost,” Ross chimes in. “If that makes you feel any better.”
“It doesn’t. If Griffin and I weren’t out, we could have won.”
Out of the three of us, Micah is the most cynical. It’s hard seeing him in this state of helplessness, where he’s just accepting defeat. “I’m sorry, bud,” I tell him. “Even if the guy from Vegas was the one that fucked us.”
He sighs. “Well, I’ve been using this time to think about some things. The future and all that. And I think this is my sign to hang it up.”
Ross’s eyes almost bulge out of their sockets. “Wait, hang it up? You mean...”
“Yeah, Ross,” Micah says. “That was my last game. I’ve decided I’m gonna retire.”
“Micah...” I want to tell him that he’s thinking irrationally. That he still has a lot of life in him. He can recover quickly, and after some physical therapy in the off-season, he’ll be as good as new. He can’t give it all up yet. We went into this big, scary world of the National Hockey League together. We”re leaving together.
“You’re serious?” I ask him.
“Yeah,” he says with a sadness that tells us he wishes it didn’t have to be this way. “Maybe if I was in my second or third season, I’d be pushing my body to fully recover. But I’m not. I’m in my thirties. I’ve been playing hockey for a long time. If I even try to recover, I’m not going to come back and play how I once did. I feel it even now. This was my lowest season for goals scored. It’s not worth the heartbreak down the line when I realize I’ll never be in my prime again. And if I get injured again, it could be worse. It’s better just to leave it like this.”
Ross sniffs and wipes the tears from his eyes. Drama queen. But when I feel a drop on my cheek, I realize he’s not alone.
“Okay man,” he says between hiccups. “If that’s what you want, we’re here for you. Now and forever, you know that.”
“Yeah,” Micah smiles. “I do. You guys will always be my support.”
“So, what happens next?” The three amigos need to figure out what their next course of action is. There’s still hockey that needs to be played, and Micah’s going to be watching us from the sidelines. I’m hoping that we’ll bring home the Cup. Now it feels like we’ve got something more to play for. Now, we’re doing it for Micah.
“I’ll do a lot of physical therapy,” Micah says. “Watch from the bench. You guys better win the conference. And then the Cup. Not gonna lie, Vegas is strong. A bunch of our conference is strong. They can try and predict as much as they want who will take home the Stanley Cup, but if I’m being honest, I don’t have a clue. We need to bolster our defense and stop allowing goals through. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but we are not as strong as we used to be.”
“No, you’re right. I feel so fatigued after a game.” My line isn’t on the ice for the entire game, but in the few stretches of time where I am, I feel like I need to take a breath a lot more often than I used to when I switch off with another player. The uniform is starting to feel a little more heavy on my body, and my knees feel like they want to buckle after every pass or shot. I know that I can’t play hockey forever, and my career has an expiration date. But I’ve never thought about when “the end” will be more than I have tonight, hearing my best friend announce his.
Ross turns his head to me. “Oh no. Are you thinking of retiring too?”
“Not right this minute! But after this season, I would’ve played hockey for ten seasons. I’m in a relationship, and I can’t believe that I’m thinking about shit like settling down and getting married. Starting a family. But I am, and it’s kind of exciting. I want to be present for this stuff.”
“Um, wait a minute,” Micah narrows his eyes at me. “You’re in a relationship? Did you get back together with Lydia?”
My nod results in a slap from Ross and a grin from Micah.
“Dude, that’s awesome!” Ross yelps. “When? Tonight?”
“Yeah, she came to the game. She’s here for a conference. Wish that she didn’t see me lying on the ice in pain. That scared her a lot. But if it didn’t happen, then she wouldn’t have run to the tunnel, and I wouldn’t have locked eyes with her and made up with her.” Shit, I was meant to see her after the game. I need to text her that I’m getting back to the hotel a bit later because I’m seeing Micah.
Griffin: Visiting Micah @ hospital, sorry forgot to give you a heads up. Hope you’re staying awake for me. 3
Lydia: Yes, still awake. @ a slot machine. Played some roulette but wasn’t lucky. Of course I’m staying awake for you.
Griffin: Good, because I’m hungry and I’m ready to eat you out.
Lydia: OMG GRIFFIN
I’m ready for you too. Xoxo.
My cheeks flush, and when I look up from my phone, Micah and Ross raise their brows at me. Look, I know that I’m in the so-called “honeymoon phase,” and every little thing that Lydia does sets off fireworks in my mind, but after feeling like I’ve finally found the one, I wish that my friends would too, instead of making fun of me for being so deeply in love.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” I ask, equal parts playful and annoyed. “It’s called being in love. Maybe you guys need to try it sometime.”
Micah gives me the side eye, and Ross just looks down on the blankets covering Micah’s body. If Micah ever finds the woman that can change his life, I’ll be impressed. That man barely ever shows any sort of affection. And then there’s Ross, who shows too much affection sometimes, but I know he’s hung up on his childhood best friend, who can’t stand that he completely ghosted her after making it big in the hockey world.
“Sorry,” I blurt. “That was mean of me. I’m just...happy.”
“We’re happy for you, Griffin,” Ross says. “Lydia’s a great girl. And you’ve started going to therapy. Right now, it might feel like we’re feeling low, but things are going to look up for us soon. I can feel it.”
“I can, too,” Micah grins softly. “Because we have each other.”
My heart feels like it grew three sizes a la The Grinch. “I love you guys,” I blurt.
“Love you too,” they reply in unison. And in this moment, amongst the beeping and the guessing of letters on the television screen, our invisible bond tightens a little more. And it feels like nothing can break it.