This isn’t what I need to hear right now. It’s terrifying enough that Raffi is in the hospital. And it's not like I need any additional evidence to prove to me that he should quit playing hockey. But my stomach sinks, and my heart squeezes.
I can’t even imagine how much of a bizarre confluence of events it is for a hockey player to pass away at a game, but it doesn’t fill me with confidence about my boyfriend. The one I currently know little about as I sit in the waiting room.
Twisting my hands on my thighs doesn’t help. Neither does pacing.
The girls talk in hushed voices about the fallen player in the UK league. He was originally from Minnesota, a former NHL player with the Pittsburgh Penguins, Adam Johnson. If it didn’t already feel like I had belts strapped across my chest, it would probably be even harder to breathe. I don’t have words for how tragic it is. Is there somewhere local to lay flowers, or sign a book of condolences, or somewhere to donate money? I feel so fucking helpless. I need to do something. But what?
Head hanging in my hands, body bent forward, I wait. It’s all I can do. When someone knows something, they’ll come and find me.
At some point, I stretch out over a few seats and fall asleep.
Sometime later, someone’s rousing me from my nap. Apollo de la Peña’s concerned eyes are heavy on my face. “You hanging in there?”
I nod, but my insides have disintegrated, my outsides are trembling, and I’m going to cry again any second.
“I spoke to the doctors.” Travis’s voice comes from behind Apollo. He must have arrived after I fell asleep. “He’s okay. Still out cold. Couple stitches on his forehead, concussion is likely.” He winces. “But he should recover.”
Tears are pouring down my face as I sniffle through his words. “Th-thanks for letting me know.”
Apollo pulls me against his chest and strokes my back. “Shhhhh. There, there. It’s all going to be okay. He’s going to wake up and recover. Okay?”
Despite his words, I can’t nod. Until Raffi wakes up, the results of his CT and MRI scans come back, and he talks to me with his own mouth, in his own words, the only thought consuming my every thought is that he might wake up and forget we ever existed.
Again.
Okay, two thoughts. He could also die.
“We’re all here for you, Tori. We’re a family, and we’ve got you.” Apollo doesn’t let me go for a long time. Until I’m cried out all over again, and there’s more snot on his shirt than I have left in my body.
When I eventually pull back, I take in his face. He’s pale, dark rings under his eyes. It was only a few weeks ago that he was in this very hospital after a car accident almost killed his best friend.
How is he so strong, so enduring that he can be in this space so soon after one traumatic incident, for another?
He searches my face. “If he forgets again, we’ll help him remember. Okay?”
What if his brain swells really badly?
What if there are secondary issues? Like clots, or stroke? Is he at higher risk of those things? Probably.
What if he wakes up and wants to skate again? I rub at my chest as a hiccupping sob comes out of my mouth.
“Apollo.” The anguish in my voice draws attention fromacross the waiting room. “What if he doesn’t stop playing? What if he doesn’t wake up? What if…? What if he dies?”
I fall apart on the captain’s shoulder all over again. He’s probably still a bit achy from his own shit, worried about his best friend, and here he is in the hospital that probably brings back awful and recent memories, for a member of his team.
If my heart wasn’t already spoken for, I might shoot my shot.
Apollo doesn’t run away screaming at my breakdown. He just sits next to me, holding me against him. Does he realize he’s holding me together right now? If he lets go, will I fall to pieces? Feels like it.
Eloise gives me an update about Wyatt, she shows me a picture of Ani snuggled up in bed cuddling Wyatt and reading him The Gruffalo. It’s one of his favorite books, and that they even have a copy shows me just how much attention Raffi has been paying.
Another rub of my chest doesn’t shift the pain, and no amount of kneading the muscles in the back of my neck make them any softer.
When Apollo gets up to go and talk to someone, Artemis takes his place, curling his fingers into mine. When Eloise is finished messaging Raffi’s mom with an update, she curls her fingers into my other hand.
We sit in silence, and when Apollo returns with a scowl wrinkling his model face, the weight in my stomach sinks even deeper. “Oh, no.”
“Come with me,” Apollo holds out his hand.
