Chapter Twenty-Six
Spencer
My foot tapped rapidly on the floor of the doctor’s waiting room as I glanced around the various notice boards and read all the posters for the hundredth time in ten minutes.
One of the women opposite me had a baby in her lap that kept staring at me.
I pulled a couple of silly faces, watching them break into a wide-eyed smile of delight.
I’d never really thought much about babies until we’d started running Novel Tea and I’d been exposed to them a bit more.
Now I thought they were funny, cute, and complete menaces to my clean floor.
Nothing was as painful as scraping up bits of mushed-up cake and biscuit, but luckily, I forgave the culprit every time because they were too freaking adorable to be mad at.
I wondered if Noah liked babies. How did gay couples even have children?
Did they adopt? Was surrogacy a thing? I knew it was on TV, but it might be different outside of America.
Was it weird that I was thinking about having a baby with Noah?
Maybe. But if I didn’t tell him, then I could at least pretend I wasn’t already planning a future for us.
If we ever did want kids, though, I’d totally be down for it.
They could even come to work with me sometimes, and I could teach them how to bake.
I was sure I’d seen tiny chef hats for kids.
That would be so freaking adorable. They could play football too—kids football was always adorable because it was like watching a group of enthusiastic puppies chase a ball up and down the pitch.
“Spencer Matthews?” said a warm voice, and I looked up to see the doctor standing by the double doors of the waiting room.
She was a petite woman with an orange cardigan and bright yellow shoes.
I decided I liked her already. I hopped out of my seat and made my way over to her.
She smiled at me. “Hi, I’m Doctor Varley.
Follow me. We’ll be in room three today. ”
The surgery was pretty small, and I followed Doctor Varley down a short corridor towards her room, ducking inside and taking a seat on the padded chair. She sat down opposite me and gave me another cheery smile. “What can I do for you today, Spencer?”
“So, er, I need some advice and maybe your approval.” I took a deep breath, wondering why I was so nervous.
“Basically, I used to play professional football when I was like, in my early twenties, and then I was tackled really badly, and it broke my ankle.” I wiggled my left foot slightly.
“I had, like, two surgeries on it, and it’s sort of fine now, but I was always told I shouldn’t play again because it might damage it more, so I retired.
But I was wondering if I’d be able to join this five-a-side league with my mates because it’s not like it’s professional level, and it’s rotating subs, so I can easily come off.
And, yeah… I was just hoping that would be possible. ”
“Okay,” she said. “Let me have a quick look at your file, then we’ll have a feel of your ankle. Do you want to pop your shoes and socks off for me?”
She turned to her computer and started flicking through various tabs on my medical record while I reached down and unlaced my trainers. It hadn’t been an immediate no, so that was a good start. Doctor Varley hummed and muttered something under her breath.
“Right, let’s have a look at you,” she said, rotating back to face me before standing up and walking over to the padded bench, pulling some tissue across it. “If you can hop up here, I can have a look at both of your ankles. Your left was the one that was injured, right?”
“Yeah,” I said as I walked over and climbed up, stretching my legs out in front of me and rolling up my joggers to give her better access to my ankles.
“Perfect. Hopefully my hands aren’t too cold, but I apologise if they are.”
Doctor Varley started with my right ankle, giving it a feel and flexing it in various directions while asking about my levels of activity, my initial recovery, the physiotherapy I’d had, and whether I ever had any pain.
She was really easy to talk to, and by the time she moved onto my left leg, I felt like I’d practically told her my life story.
I tried to relax as she repeated her tests on my left ankle, hoping it wasn’t suddenly going to give out.
I felt that it wasn’t quite as flexible as my right, but I hoped that wouldn’t be a mark against me.
There was a calm but serious expression on her face, and I wondered if that meant she was gearing up to give me bad news.
“Okay, you can pop your shoes and socks back on now,” she said, giving me a smile as she released my ankle.
“How does it feel?” I couldn’t wait a minute longer for an answer. It felt like my heart was in my throat.
“Good. You still have a good range of motion, there doesn’t seem to be any pain when I flex it, and I think the muscles you’ve built up are nicely supporting your joints.
It’s hard to tell what it’s actually like inside without X-rays, so I would like you to get some done.
I’ll get you a referral letter, then you can ring up the community hospital and get an appointment, and we can go from there. ”
I let out a long breath as the crushing weight on my chest began to lift. “Do you think I’ll be able to play?”
“I don’t want to say an absolute yes until I’ve seen your X-rays, but considering you’ve never had any issues since the surgery and the level of movement and fitness you have, I think you’ll be fine.
But it would be a good idea to get some ankle supports and make sure your boots or trainers are also providing plenty of support.
I’d also avoid tackling or being tackled where possible, although I know that’s hard, and it might be worth looking into sports massage therapy, just to make sure you’re supporting and strengthening it as much as possible.
They might be able to give you some additional stretches or exercises to do.
” Doctor Varley smiled at me. “How does that sound?”
“Good,” I said. “Really good. Thanks.”
“Good, I’m glad. You seemed very nervous.”
“Yeah, I was.” I slid off the bench and onto the cool floor, walking over to retrieve my trainers and socks.
“When my friend first asked me, I was going to say no mostly because I wasn’t sure if I could play again and also because of a bunch of other reasons.
But my boyfriend suggested I at least come and get checked out.
He knows how much this means to me, and I’m glad I listened to him instead of just pretending it wasn’t a big deal. ”
Doctor Varley nodded. “He sounds like a smart man. And I’m glad you came too. Some people would just go off and play. But I think as long as you don’t try to be Jordan Green, then you’ll probably be fine.”
I grinned. “Greenwich fan?”
“My wife is from London,” she said. “I’ve become a fan by association over the years. It’s hard not to be.”
“He’s nice,” I said. “I met him a couple of times when I was with them. I went on loan to Norwich, though, and that was me.”
“He seems like a nice guy. And his relationship announcement was certainly something.”
“Yeah, it was.” I still remembered watching the clips of that on Twitter, staring at my screen.
It had been after the World Cup two years ago, and both Christian King and Hugo Serin had given a press conference where they’d both come out and announced they were both in serious relationships, although not with each other.
Someone in the media had tried to start some shit, asking about whether their teammates would be comfortable with that, and Jordan Green, who’d always had a reputation as someone with zero tolerance for shit, had called them out.
He’d then proceeded to announce his own bisexuality and declare his love for his boyfriend, who also happened to be his manager’s brother.
But two years later, they were still going strong, and I knew he, Christian, and Hugo had done a ton of advocacy work around LGBTQ+ inclusion in football.
At the time, I’d just thought it was a really admirable and brave thing to do, never considering that one day I might be in that position myself.
I guessed I was lucky in a way. I didn’t have to plan some big coming out or try to keep my relationship a secret because it might destroy my career.
I’d just told people Noah and I were dating and that was it.
None of our friends had really cared. They’d been more preoccupied with the fact that none of them had noticed.
I still hadn’t told my parents, but they were a much lower priority on my list. I’d get to them eventually, but it wasn’t like I saw much of them anyway despite the fact they still lived locally.
Alex and I hadn’t exactly lived up to their expectations, and while both of us had shrugged it off over the years, it was easier to just stick to ourselves than to open up that can of worms.
Doctor Varley and I chatted for a few more minutes before she let me go, promising I’d get my referral for X-rays in the post in the next few days and giving me a polite but firm warning that just because it felt okay to her, didn’t mean I could suddenly go gallivanting off and pretending to win the World Cup.
Slow and steady only.
I promised to be good, and I meant it. I wasn’t going to put myself at risk like that. Maybe I would have done once upon a time when I was young and reckless, but now I didn’t want to deal with that level of stress.
Besides, if I totally fucked up my ankle, it would mean more surgery, and that was something I wanted to avoid at all costs.
Plus, Alex would never let me hear the end of it if I abandoned him to run Novel Tea while I was stuck at home with my foot in plaster.
He’d make me come in and sit at a table and ice biscuits or something.
Or even worse, do all the ordering and accounting.
I strolled out of the doctor’s with a smile on my face, pulling out my phone to tell Noah everything. I knew he was busy teaching since it was only just past eleven, but I wanted him to know anyway.
Then I pulled up my thread with the rest of the team and typed out a message for them.
They all knew I was coming to get my ankle checked, and I’d promised Sean I’d let them know as soon as possible.
He’d already messaged me three times this morning, so I figured it was time to put them out of their misery.
Spencer
Anyone know where I can get some good ankle supports and AstroTurf boots? =D