Chapter 11 #2
It was hell on earth. I’d gotten hurt before, but not like this.
Goalies had to deal with taking pucks to every part of the body.
Even with the thick pads, I was always bruised in some way or another, but I didn’t have to deal with fights.
Or checking. Just the occasional getting slammed into by overly enthusiastic players who didn’t have time to stop.
I still had all of my own teeth. Nothing had ever been broken before this.
I’d never been high sticked or slashed by a skate blade.
I really didn’t like pain, and I avoided it as much as I could, so physical therapy was torture. Even with Quinn being kind and careful with me, when it was over, there were tears in my eyes, and I was doing everything I could not to break down.
I could feel everything in my gut churning.
I wanted my bed, in my room, in the frat house.
I wanted my safe space with the pillows that muffled my screams. I wanted all my yarn and my blankets and my friends just a few feet away, who’d come sit with me when the worst of it was over and talk to me about the mundane, pointless shit going on in their lives to distract me and calm me down.
I had none of that.
I loved my mom more than anything, but she never did understand what it was like for me. She didn’t understand entirely that my meltdowns weren’t tantrums. And that I couldn’t just…stop having them. That letting myself melt down was as important as stimming, or blinking, or breathing.
And she wasn’t going to leave me alone at home so I could let it all go.
“Ferris?”
I realized I was making a weird noise deep in my chest. I shook my head, but he ignored me and walked over. His hands hovered above my shoulders like he wanted to touch but didn’t know how.
“Ferris,” he said again.
“Don’t touch me.”
He didn’t move. “Are you sure?”
I was lying. I wanted to be touched. I wanted to be held so tightly that I couldn’t breathe, but no one ever got that right. I shook my head, and he set his hands on either side of my thighs, fingers digging into the cushion of the exam table.
“Can you help me?”
“Tell me how.”
This was also not professional. This was not part of his job. I must have said that aloud because he sucked in a breath.
“That doesn’t matter. Something’s happening, and I want to help.”
“I need to scream, but I don’t want anyone to hear me.”
“I don’t think anyone’s here but…” He paused, then shoved himself between my parted legs and wrapped his arms around me. “Against my chest.”
“Tighter,” I told him, unable to stop myself. I was trembling all over.
He obeyed, and the tighter he held me, the more I couldn’t hold on.
It was a volcano erupting. A dam breaking.
A hurricane making landfall. Pressing my face into his chest, I let it all out.
My throat was already constricted from the tension in my body, so all that came out was a raspy shout, but the longer it went on, the more I could feel my lungs relax.
Tears were falling now—I wasn’t crying, but they were just sort of dribbling from my lower eyelids.
I took in a trembling breath, then coughed as I continued to shake.
Then I realized no, I wasn’t shaking. He was rocking me—not too hard, but not too gently.
It was side to side, then forward to back.
“I’m okay,” I said, my voice more of a gasp than anything. “I’m okay, I’m okay.”
“You are. I’m right here. I’ve got you.”
Squeezing my eyes shut, I made just enough room between my face and his shirt to wipe a hand down my cheeks. His scrubs were dark with the tears I’d left behind.
“I’m so sorry. I knew that was going to be hard. I just didn’t realize how bad it would get.”
He eased back a little, letting me go and putting his hands back down on the table. His eyes searched my face. “Was it the pain?”
“And nerves. I was anxious about what to expect, and it was different than what I pictured in my head. And then you were there, and I was not expecting you.”
“I wasn’t expecting you either,” he admitted. But surely that was a lie. He must have seen my name. I didn’t call him on it. “What can I do to make it better for next time?”
Managing something like a smile, I eased back and shook my head. “No, it’s okay. Next time will be better. I’ll know what we’re doing.”
He frowned, then stepped away from me so I could hop down to the floor and grab my crutches. “Come with me.”
“Where?”
“I’m going to give you a tour and explain what you’ll be doing on Monday.”
That…oh. That was nice. That was helpful.
And very unexpected, but in the best way.
He held the door for me, and I walked with my crutches into the corridor, turning left when he pointed.
He walked a few paces ahead of me, leaning heavily on his cane, but he didn’t force me to have to catch up with him either.
There was another room at the far end of the hallway with two double doors. He swiped his badge, and they opened to a dark room that was much larger than the one I’d just been in. I watched his hand fumble against the wall, and then the light flickered on.
It was and wasn’t like they had on TV. Massage tables lined the far wall, and there were little bridge-looking things with short stairs, and on the opposite side of that, a row of exercise machines.
The floors weren’t padded, but I could see huge mats lined up along the windows, and there were parallel bars and floor-to-ceiling mirrors.
“We do a little bit of everything here,” he said.
“This is the main clinic, where you’ll be getting the rest of your treatment.
We’ll work on stretching,” he added. “Balance. That’ll be a big focus for getting you back into skates.
With your progress right now, I fully expect your ankle to regain full range of motion. ”
“Are you being honest or just trying to make me feel better?” I couldn’t help but ask.
I wasn’t looking him in the face, but I could see him in the mirror.
He looked…sad. I thought it was sad. “I was lied to right after my injury. They said I’d be fine.
They said with hard work, I could get back everything I lost. My first therapist’s philosophy was that lies were good motivators so when you learned the truth, you were already used to thinking positive. ”
“That sounds like a load of shit.”
He burst into laughter and turned to me. “Yeah. It was. I almost quit for good, but I ended up transferring to another PT, and she was better. Her honesty was brutal, but my expectations were set. I always wanted to be like her when I started school.”
“So I’ll be okay?”
He walked up, and after a moment of hesitation, he touched my chin, drawing my gaze up. I didn’t meet his eyes, but it was easy to look at his full, lush mouth and remember what it was like to be kissed.
“Is this professional?” I asked when he didn’t answer my first question.
He took a breath. His lips parted just slightly, and I could see the edges of his teeth. “You’ll be okay.” Quinn paused. “I don’t do this with my other clients, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Why me?”
“Because I can’t help myself. Ferris, that night—”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
Closing my eyes, I bowed my head and nodded. “I wanted it to be a onetime thing. But I haven’t stopped thinking about it.”
“Maybe I should send you somewhere else. I don’t want to distract you.”
I met his gaze and held it for as long as I could. “I don’t trust anyone else. I need you.”
“Fuck, don’t say it like that,” he begged.
I knew all of this was crossing lines. This was unethical. This could probably cost him his license. It would be a scandal. Even if he and I never touched, it was wrong.
He reached into his pocket, and it took me a second to realize what he was holding. It was his little burrito. “I’m calling him Jeff.”
I snorted, my eyes a little hot. “Oh. Why Jeff?”
“He looks like a Jeff.” He rubbed his thumb over the eyes.
“This meant something. I’m sorry I left the chat.
I just…I wanted you to feel like you could move on without having to see me all the time.
And I…” He trailed off and licked his lips.
“It was going to be impossible seeing your name and not saying something.”
“If this is hurting you, I’ll go somewhere else.”
Quinn shook his head quickly. “No. I want you to feel safe so you can get better. We can do this, Ferris. We can. And maybe when it’s over—”
“Oh. Don’t say that,” I begged. “I don’t want to think about hope right now. I feel lost, and…and I can’t.”
“Okay.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “I can do this. I can be whatever you need.”
I took a moment to absorb all of that—to let myself believe the promise he was making. I could want him. I would always want him. But I could also let myself detach. “See you Monday, right?”
I caught just the edge of a smile curving on his lips. “Yeah. Monday.”
When I turned and slowly made my way out of the clinic’s main room, he didn’t follow. The walk back to the front door was impossibly slow and very lonely. There wasn’t another soul in the building.
I could do this. I could.
…I would.