Chapter 32
IT’S POURING
WE’RE IN DR. Esteban Rivera’s office, a Dominican orthopedist famous for specializing in shoulder injuries and treating elite athletes. We were lucky Dad pulled a few strings and got us an appointment on such short notice.
Henry was discharged from the ER last night after getting X-rays and an MRI. The attending physician suspected an old SLAP tear injury. So here we are, ready to discuss the results in more depth.
Henry’s been dealing with the pain since yesterday, and I’m just glad he agreed to see Dr. Rivera instead of doping up and carrying on like nothing’s wrong.
Once Dad and the doctor are done reminiscing about his player days and other baseball gossip, we get down to business.
He asks Henry a few questions about the accident and how he’s been managing the injury since then.
He also encourages Henry to explain in detail what happened when the sudden pain invaded him during the match.
For once, Henry doesn’t pretend he’s fine.
Dr. Rivera clips the X-rays onto the lightbox, the images glowing to life. He takes a look at them and hums. Next, he plugs the USB into his laptop, his sharp gaze flicking across the MRI files in silence.
“Okay,” he finally speaks, rotating the laptop so we can see the screen.
“The ER doctor’s assessment was spot-on.
You do have a SLAP tear.” He circles the damaged tissue on the screen with his finger.
“And there’s also a partial tear in your rotator cuff …
right here.” He points at a blur on the screen that means nothing to me, but Dad and Henry nod like it’s gospel.
“Both are serious,” he says, pulling down his screen to close his laptop.
“You’ve got a significant labral tear that’s been neglected for a while.
We’ll need to reattach it to stabilize your shoulder.
Your rotator cuff is partially torn. It’s not a full rupture, but it’s bad enough.
We need to fix it now before it worsens. ”
I’m wringing my fingers on my lap to keep myself from reaching for Henry’s hand. I know this isn’t easy for him. I know this brings back ugly memories and feelings he probably wishes could stay in the past. But it’s time to move on. He can’t live like this anymore. It’s not fair.
“We’ll go in arthroscopically,” Dr. Rivera continues, as if Henry had already agreed to the surgery. “We’ll clean up the damage, re-anchor the labrum, and reinforce the cuff.”
I look at Henry, and his face is unreadable. If he’s freaking out, I can’t tell. If he’s on board with Dr. Rivera’s solutions and considering surgery, I wouldn’t know either.
“If all goes well, you’ll regain full range of motion,” Dr. Rivera adds. “No more pain. No more meds.”
“He could play tennis again?” I ask. “Professionally?”
He nods.
“You’re young and strong,” he says to Henry.
“You do what I tell you, and your shoulder will be good as new. You could come back better than before. I’ve seen it happen.
But recovery’s gonna take time. Surgery’s not magic.
It’s a second chance. But there are no shortcuts. You gotta put in the work.”
Henry doesn’t speak. Doesn’t move. But something flickers behind his eyes as if the idea of hope brushed past him, as dangerous as it might feel at this moment. Uninvited. Unwelcome. Before he slams the door shut in its face.
“There’s usually a nine to twelve-month waitlist for surgery.”
Dr. Rivera steeples his fingers in front of him.
“I don’t think now is a good time for the surgery, anyway,” Henry replies, his eyes going dark again, that tiny glimmer of hope vanishing into thin air.
I can’t decide if he’s sad or relieved to hear about the long waitlist. “I’ll be traveling all summer on Belén’s tour.
Besides, I don’t think I can afford it right now. ”
“Money won’t be an issue,” I toss in, feeling both Henry’s and Dad’s gazes drilling into me.
I ignore them.
We haven’t discussed surgery and rehabilitation costs with Dr. Rivera, but I’m sure his renowned medical fees don’t come cheap. And Dad should know. So what did he expect when bringing Henry here? For him to find a magical way to cover the cost of surgery and rehabilitation on his own?
Dad paid him handsomely for coaching me, but that money was supposedly meant for college. And I’m guessing Henry’s sent some of it to his mom, so I don’t know how much he’s got saved, nor do I want him to end up with nothing after the surgery.
I have the money to pay for it.
I want to do it, even if Dad pouts his lips in disapproval.
“I was going to say,” Dr. Rivera says, raising an eyebrow like he might be reading into the weird dynamic between us, “that I just got a last-minute cancellation, and if you’re up for it, we could do the surgery tomorrow at 7:00 a.m. We’ll just have to do some lab work today, and if you’re cleared, you’re good to go for tomorrow. ”
“Tomorrow?” Henry blinks. Shocked. Clearly in denial. It’s like his brain can’t compute how we went from a doctor’s appointment to possible surgery in under twenty-four hours.
“Tomorrow,” Dr. Rivera echoes. “It’s your choice. But your shoulder’s fixable. I can fix it. You’re not done … unless you want to be.”
Henry’s throat bobs, and his eyes dart to the floor.
He doesn’t say yes. He doesn’t say no, either.
“Could you excuse us for a minute,” Dad says, getting up from his seat and grabbing my shoulders. “Belén?”
“Of course,” Dr. Rivera says. “In the meantime, I’ll give Henry a detailed explanation of the surgery and what to expect in terms of the rehabilitation process so he can feel more prepared to make a decision.”
“Sounds good,” Dad says.
I get up and follow him outside the doctor’s office. We walk a few doors down the hall for privacy.
“That surgery and the entire rehab process is going to cost a lot of money,” Dad says, worry etched on his features, forgetting my bank account is bursting with prize money and sponsorship deals.
Money I’ve worked hard to earn.
Money I should have a say in spending, especially now that I’m eighteen.
“I know how cautious you are when it comes to spending and saving, but this would not impact my finances. And you know it. I could present it to Henry as a loan to make him more comfortable accepting my help. A loan he can pay back once he rebuilds his tennis career. Not that I’m expecting him to pay me back. ”
He frowns and considers me in silence, rubbing a hand to his cheek.
“I don’t want you to feel responsible for him,” he says. “What if the rehabilitation process takes more than expected, or if there’s any other expense we aren’t—”
“But Dad, I love him.” The words burst out before I can stop them.
My hand flies up to cover my mouth, but it’s too late.
It’s done.
He looks away and scratches his jaw.
“I know,” he says after a pause, shaking his head with a soft shrug. “We all love him. You know he’s like a son to me.”
For a second, I don’t breathe.
He didn’t get it.
Or he did, and he’s choosing not to.
“But we can’t offer to cover the cost until we get a formal quote,” he continues. “Going into surgery tomorrow feels rushed.”
“I love him,” I repeat the words, slower this time, staring into Dad’s eyes—pleading—and waiting for understanding to smack him in the face. “I’d do anything for him. So please … just let me do this one simple thing for him. Let me help him get a second chance to live his dream.”
Dad stares at me, his eyes going round as he processes the revelation I just threw at his feet.
“Does he know?”
I throw my hands up with a snort.
“I think he’s always known,” I say. “I’ve always loved him. I can’t even remember a time when I haven’t. But yeah, he does.”
He sighs.
“And does he love you?”
I press my lips and nod.
“Very much.”
Dad points at Dr. Rivera's door. “Más le vale al cabrón.”1
I chuckle, but it comes out choppy and thick with emotion.
“I don’t want this to affect your game,” Dad says. “I saw how distracted you were with Liam.”
“This is different,” I say quickly. “Henry understands the rules more than I do. He would never do anything to jeopardize my career. You’ve known him his entire life. I don’t need to tell you how great he is.”
“Ay, mijita.” Dad shakes his head with a smile. “Since when have you been together?”
“Mexico.”
“Pues claro, se los puse de pechito.”2
I laugh.
Dad glances at Dr. Rivera’s door.
“If Henry doesn’t do this tomorrow, it’ll be months before Dr. Rivera is available again, and who knows what can happen during that time,” I say. “What if he gets worse and the damage becomes permanent or—”
“And you’re fine with him not coming to Europe?” Dad muses.
“If it means he’ll get a real shot at healing and starting over, then yes. I’m fine with it.”
“It’s gonna cost a lot of money,” he says again.
I know!
But I don’t care. Not when it’s Henry’s future we’re talking about. Not when his dreams are on the line.
“You always say we should save our money for a rainy day,” I remind him. “And right now, it’s pouring.”
Dad shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath. He stares up and down at me, shaking his head. He knows this is the right thing. I’ve convinced him. He just has to let it sink in.
“Go ahead, then,” he says, waving a haphazard hand in front of him. “Pero todo va a salir de tu cuenta. Para que aprendas a valorar lo que cuestan las cosas.”3
I squeal. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
I leap up and hook my arms around his neck. He easily catches me and lifts me off the floor like he used to after my junior matches, back when the stakes were low but the wins still felt enormous.
“You’re not mad?” I ask as he puts me down. “Drew said you’d go ballistic if you knew about us.”
“Drew knew about you?” He exclaims. “And he didn’t tell me?”
I scratch my head.
Shit.
“No, he didn’t, actually.” It’s the truth. “At least not when he said that.”
I’m only making it worse.
“And he does now?”
“You know how nosy he is.” I give him an exaggerated grin.
“Drew’s going to be the death of me,” Dad says, rolling his eyes. “But he is as cunning as he is nosy.”
“That he is,” I say, crossing my arms and bringing my fist to my mouth as I contemplate a crazy idea that’s just popped into my head. “And I have the perfect assignment for him.”
As soon as I convince Henry to agree to the surgery.
Because I will … I have to.
1 “He damn well better.” (Or more literally: “He better, that bastard.”)
2 “Well of course, I made it way too easy for you.
3 But it’s all coming out of your bank account so you learn to appreciate the value of things.