Chapter 12
twelve
Jeremy
Coach.” The word catches in my throat. I haven’t seen Coach since I was in the hospital, not because he hasn’t been reaching out, but because I’ve been avoiding him.
He’s been a second father to me since the day he took over as our coach, but I can’t look him in the eyes after everything that happened.
I know he doesn’t blame me for being in this chair; hell, I don’t blame myself. Why would he blame me? But I know he’ll give me one of his optimistic speeches and tell me what everyone’s been telling me for weeks. That this isn’t the end of the world, but maybe just a chance for a new beginning.
But that’s not what I want to hear.
I want him to tell me that the impossible will happen again. That I’ll get back on the ice and eventually achieve my dreams of going pro.
But I know that’s not why he’s here.
“Hey, kid.” He lets himself in.
He’s the last person I was expecting to see, especially because I know the guys are at practice right now.
“What are you doing here?”
“Well, you’ve been ignoring my calls since you got out of the hospital, so it only felt right for me to stop over here in person.”
“Usually, people would take that as a hint that—”
“Unfortunately, you have no choice but to talk to me.” He pats my shoulder. He knows I’m not serious, and I knew eventually he’d come over here. “How’re you doing, kid?”
“I’ve been better.”
“I actually came over hoping to help with that.”
My eyebrows squish together. I lean back in my chair and cross my arms.
“I don’t know what you’re getting at. There’s not a whole lot you can do to help. I’m already in physical therapy for 90% of my week, so—”
“I don’t mean with the physical toll.”
“Now I’m even more confused.” I lick my lips, leaning forward slightly. “What are you getting at?”
“The mental aspect of all of this. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know that you’re not taking this well.
Hell, you’re taking it a whole lot better than I would’ve, but I know you, Jeremy.
I know the kid who came to me a few weeks after we won the championship game to say how much he appreciated me, and didn’t want to disappoint me, but wanted a chance to live out his dream before it was too late. ”
He squats down, resting his hands on his legs, finding my eyes.
“And I hate that you didn’t get to do that. It kills me, but I don’t want you to think your life is over because hockey isn’t a part of it anymore.” He takes a deep breath. “At least not in the way you want it to be. Doesn’t mean it has to be gone completely.”
“Coach—”
“I have a buddy from college, Max; someone I played hockey with for a couple of years.” He rubs the back of his neck.
“He runs a youth summer camp program to teach kids how to play hockey. He asked me if I knew of anyone who’d be available to help out this year.
His wife is having a baby, but he didn’t want to cancel the program this year, but doesn’t want to—”
“You told him I’d help?” My mouth falls open slightly.
“I told him I had a potential candidate. And I think, even if you don’t realize it right now, it could help get you out of this funk.”
“Coach, I don’t know if you realize, but I’m sitting in a wheelchair right now. I can’t exactly—”
“You can. These kids deserve someone who will actually care about not only teaching them, but their well-being, and I can’t think of anyone better than you.”
“Can I think about it?”
“Sure. You can let me know by Friday.”
“That’s tomorrow.”
“Is it?” He stands up and walks to the door. “I’ll let you get to it then.”
He wants me to let him know by today.” I stare at the ceiling while Lacey stretches my hips. “I don’t even know what to do.”
“I think you should do it.” She rests my leg back down on the bench.
“Why?” I sit up on my elbows to look at her.
“Because Jeremy,” she rolls back toward the counter before rolling back with her clipboard, “hockey was your whole world. Now you can teach these kids how to make sure it doesn’t become their whole world.”
“I don’t know if I should be offended by that.”
“You shouldn’t be. I’m just saying that nothing should consume your life completely because when you let something do that—”
“You end up lost and confused?” I raise an eyebrow.
“Something like that.” Lacey smiles. “Alright, ready for some real work?”
“I guess.” I lay back down and continue to study the ceiling. I could draw this ceiling from memory with how much I’m looking at it. Every little detail is engraved in my brain.
We go exercise by exercise, and every time I leave PT, I feel like I did absolutely nothing in my session. It’s a whole lot of me lying here, while Lacey works on building up my muscles and hoping it makes a difference.
And every session, I feel the tingles in my hips and legs that make me feel like something is happening, like things are getting better, but I know deep down it’s not real.
It’s not in my head either; it just doesn’t mean what I want it to mean.
“Fuck.” I sit up, reaching my hands down and rubbing my leg.
“What?”
“Nothing, just these stupid phantom pains. I don’t usually feel them that strongly, but I felt like someone was stabbing with—”
“This?” Her eyes widen.
“What?” I raise my eyebrows. “What the hell is that thing?”
“Every session I test for, well, for that.” She points at me. “For a reaction. And that was one hell of a reaction.”
“I don’t—”
She pokes me again, down at the calf, and the second she does—
I feel it.
I’m staring at the little thing and its spot against my leg, and I can’t believe my eyes.
I’ve been waiting for this moment. I’ve spent countless hours staring at my legs, at my feet, waiting to see something. Waiting for my toes to move, waiting to feel something real, and now—
“Let me see something.” She wheels around to the bottom of the bench and runs it up the middle of my foot.
Not only does it send chills up my body, but my toes curl.
They curl.
I wiggle them.
I wiggle them.
“Are you seeing this too?”
“Yeah.” Lacey’s eyes light up. “I’m seeing it.”
“Holy shit.”
“I think you need to call Dr. Franklin.”
I look back up at Lacey, then wiggle my toes again.
It’s real.
It’s actually real.