Chapter 6 #2
When the door shut behind her, Hazy wanted to ask them why she was so cranky, but before he could get the question out, Lover said, “Sooo, Coach Bree is going to be here soon.”
“What? Why?”
“He needs to talk to you.”
Sure enough, as the words left Lover’s mouth, another person opened his hospital room door.
“Glad to see you’re conscious,” Coach’s voice boomed in the small space.
“Yes, sir,” Hazy said.
“How’s your leg?” Coach asked.
He’d been asked a handful of times, but already he was sick of it. He was fine. Or at least he would be.
“It’s not bad,” he said.
Coach waved a hand at Lover and Beanie, who followed the silent direction and slipped out of the room. He stole Beanie’s chair.
“I’m checking in before we head out tonight. We’ll be on the road for the next few days.”
Hazy’s heart sank. Their next trip was to New York for a couple of games, but they also had a California trip soon. He would have to miss it.
They had tickets to Disney for the off days, and Patrick Mills always invited the Connors and Daisy to dinner at his house.
He’d miss out on relaxing with his favorite people.
Instead, he would be stuck in bed taking painkillers and napping the days away while his stupid body healed and his friends hung out without him.
“Well, thanks for stopping by. I appreciate the support.”
“Of course,” Coach said, leaning forward in his seat. “The team doctors say you won’t be playing any more hockey this season.”
Hazy worked hard every day to avoid drowning in anxiety, but those words had panic taking hold. “What do you mean?” His voice came out squeaky.
“We can’t rush your recovery. It takes how long the doctors say it takes.”
“It’s October. Six months is plenty of time. I’ll be ready for the end of the season.”
“Son, you’re out for the season. We’re announcing it later today. We need you in top form for years to come, and if stretching your recovery keeps you in tiptop shape, so be it.”
Pressure built in Hazy’s sinuses, and tears tickled his eyes. “What am I supposed to do if I can’t play? A whole season? How can that be good for my career?”
“Aw, fuck.” Coach squeezed Hazy’s shoulder. “I’m saying this all wrong. You’ll still have stuff to work on. Let me call Doc. He’ll say it better.”
Coach Bree dialed the team doctor and put the phone on speaker. The doctor spent the next ten minutes explaining Hazy’s recovery plan. They had already gone over some of the stuff with him before surgery, but he’d either been in too much pain, or too drugged to retain the information.
He would need help with day-to-day tasks at first. The team could provide help, or a family member could help.
Then, when he could bear weight, he would start physical therapy.
It would be months before he could walk.
Longer before he could skate. And he’d lose muscle.
The longer the doctor and trainer talked, the more dread built.
An entire season without hockey. He hadn’t missed a full season since elementary school. He was going to be sick.
Coach Bree left, and the other Connors slipped back into his room. Hazy choked back tears. He was glad his friends would stay for a few more hours before they needed to leave, but he also wanted to mourn the loss of the next year of his life in peace.
They brought food with them and watched old episodes of The Office while they ate sad, cold burritos from his favorite food truck.
Hazy’s phone rang, and he patted around the bed, the vibrations coming from somewhere but getting lost in the sea of wires and sheets. Lover pulled it free and glanced at the screen before smiling and answering the phone.
“Hi, Mrs. Hale! How are you?”
Oh God. His mom was calling. Fuck. What could she be thinking? He had to be carried off the ice, and he hadn’t bothered to call.
Lover grinned and said, “Oh yeah, he’s doing good. He’s awake and eating lunch right now. Here, I’ll let you talk to him.”
He held the phone out to Hazy, who grabbed it and took a deep breath before pressing it to his ear.
“Hello?”
“Connor! How are you feeling?”
“Oh, you know, I’m alright,” he lied.
“Livy told me you would say that.”
“God dammit, Livy,” he muttered, but he was relieved. At least someone contacted them. “Fine. I’m not alright. I’m going to have to have help at home for the next few weeks; I can’t walk; and Coach said I’m out for the season. And I’m missing the trip I’ve been excited about for months.”
Silence lingered long enough for him to realize his mistake.
“Oh, honey, I’m sorry. Your father and I can come and take care of you. We can be there in a few hours.”
“No!” Hazy shouted. He cleared his throat and lowered his voice. “Please don’t, Mom. The team will take care of everything. I’m just frustrated.”
“Don’t be silly. There’s no need to get by with hired help when we’re perfectly capable of taking some time off and visiting our favorite son.”
Hazy, panicking, searched the room for some reason his parents shouldn’t come stay with him.
If he had to host them, he would never recover.
His life away from his hometown was none of their business.
They’d be disappointed if they saw his unglamorous lifestyle.
His eyes flew past Lover and Beanie, who studied him with curious expressions, and landed on the overnight bag Livy had been nice enough to bring him.
“No, Mom, really. Don’t come. I’ll be fine. Besides. I’m not hiring anyone. Livy said she could help me,” he said, another lie slipping from his lips. He hated lying to his mom. But he could make it the truth. Livy was staying with him, anyway.
His mom hummed. “That’s a lot to put on Livy. The poor girl is going through enough as it is.”
Hazy latched onto the opportunity. “She is! And she’s working through it. We can help each other.”
His mother was a worrywart, but she would never intrude on Livy. If she thought Livy would benefit from spending some time with Hazy, she’d go with whatever was best for her girl.
“Okay. But I’ll be checking in with Livy, and the second she gets overwhelmed, we’re coming right on over. Don’t make her life too hard.”
“I would never,” he said in a serious tone, trying to convey to his mom that he meant business. They’d always agreed about Livy. She was to be protected and taken care of at all costs.
“Of course you wouldn’t. I raised you to be a nice boy. Don’t wait too long to check in. You need your rest, but a mother worries. Call us if you need anything. We can be there in the blink of an eye.”
“I know, Mom. I love you.”
“I love you, too. Focus on resting and recovering.”
“I will. Bye.”
“Bye.”
He ended the call only to be bombarded with questions.
“You’re out for the season?” Beanie asked, horrified.
“Livy is going to take care of you while you heal?” Lover wore an almost giddy expression.
“Don’t fucking sound so excited about it, asshole.” Hazy threw a balled-up napkin at Lover, who caught it before it could hit him and shot it like a basketball into the trash can.
“You should have let your mom come baby you. She loves that shit,” Lover said.
“You just want her to feed you every night for the next three months. If she comes over here, she’ll never leave.”
“It’s weird you don’t like your mom,” Beanie said. “She’s your number one fan and dotes on you, and you don’t appreciate it.”
Guilt surfaced and ate at Hazy’s stomach. Beanie’s mom had disowned him when he’d taken in his sister during her teen pregnancy. There hadn’t been room for mistakes in his family. All things considered, his own mom was pretty awesome.
“I do appreciate my mom. She’s just... a lot. Her expectations can be all-consuming. And I won’t be able to heal if she gets disappointed by every inevitable setback.”
“Okay, man,” Beanie said, his hands raised in surrender. “All I’m saying is, if she offered to help, you should let her help.”
“Plus,” Lover said, “her cooking is fantastic. I’d kill for her apple crumble.”
He had a point. Her apple crumble was delicious.
“She can send the recipe. It can’t be that hard.”
Beanie snickered. “You don’t own a mixing bowl. And you can’t stand. How would you make dessert?”
“I could figure it out, but I have bigger concerns. Now I have to ask Livy for help.”
Another knock came at the door, and the woman of the hour stuck her head in. Lover and Beanie took that as a cue to head out, and both men gave Hazy awkward hugs and pats on the shoulder before they left. They were no fucking help.