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“I passed out.” It’s really more of a statement than a question but my dad answers it anyway with, “Yes.”
“Did I fracture my clavicle again?”
“Yes,” Drew says. “Let me go grab the doctor so he can tell you what’s up.”
I turn my head to the side, away from everyone, and stare out the window. I want to scream at the top of my lungs. I want to punch a goddamn hole in the wall. I want to be left alone to wallow in misery.
The hospital suite I’m in is huge. I recognize the private VIP room from when my grandma had minor surgery last year. I’m on the sixteenth floor with an ocean view in the distance. No one will have access to me unless we want them to, and my privacy is guaranteed, every staff member on this floor here because they signed a confidentiality agreement.
“Mr. Auprince.”
I roll my head to a neutral position. I hate that the man wearing light blue scrubs with graying hair and an easy smile is familiar to me. After the team doctor treated me back at the end of October, I was referred to this fine man, renowned orthopedic surgeon John Bell.
“Dr. Bell. It’s really not good to see you.” I’m serious and I don’t care if I sound like a dick. The weight of my situation is settling in further, and I want everyone out of this room so I can be mad at the fucking world in private.
“Agreed,” he says. “I won’t beat around the bush. You’ve suffered another fracture. It involves several fragments this time and given your occupation, I recommend we do surgery. At this point, a surgical repair with a plate and screws will lead to a better long-term outcome than non-surgical healing. X-rays taken when you arrived showed there was some slight scar tissue forming. Were you still having pain before this accident?”
“A little, yes.”
“With your permission, I’d like to schedule surgery for Monday.”
“How much recovery time am I looking at?”
“Three to four months.”
I swallow the bile coming up my throat. I’ll miss Opening Day and the Japan series opener. We’re scheduled to kick things off with two games against Oakland at the Tokyo Dome. “If we don’t operate?”
“You risk improper alignment, which could make it tough to get full strength back in your arm.”
My mom puts her hand atop mine. I look into each family member’s eyes, not for help with a decision. It sucks, but it’s a no-brainer to go the surgery route. I’m seeking reassurance, that whether or not I walk back onto a baseball field, they won’t think any less of me. Ethan and Drew are rocket scientists in business with the utmost respect from our father. Drew is carrying on in the hotel world, and to an extent, Ethan is too, with restaurants in our families’ hotels in addition to Royal. Not that my dad has ever made me feel inferior because of my calling. It’s just that baseball ismylegacy and if I have to cut my career short, where does that leave me?
“Let’s do it,” I tell Dr. Bell, seeing nothing but respect reflected back at me from my family.
“Great. I’ll notify the Landsharks of the plan. Make sure we’re on the same page. I’d like you to stay here until then to keep your arm and shoulder isolated as much as possible.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
“Knock, knock.” A nurse walks into the room flanked by Josh and Jesse. “These two need to go home but wanted to see you first.”
“Dad and I have a thing,” Mom says. “We’ll stop back tomorrow.” She kisses my cheek, Dad gives me a warm smile, and then they walk out with Dr. Bell, leaving room for my new visitors.
“Hi, Finn. Are you okay?” Josh asks.
“Absolutely. You don’t need to worry about me, not at all.”
They nod. “Thanks for saving Sammy. You’re like a real-life superhero,” Josh says.
Drew groans. “Aw man. Seriously? We will never hear the end of that.”
I give the boys a genuine smile. “Keep taking good care of her, okay?”
“We will,” Jesse says, then they wave goodbye and follow the nurse out. Once they’re out of eyesight I tell my brothers they don’t need to stay. I don’t like pretending I’m okay when I’m anything but.
“And let you mope in private? I don’t think so,” Ethan says from an armed chair across the room. He points the remote at the flat-screen TV hanging on the wall.
“See if they get the E! channel here. There’s aKeeping Up with the Kardashiansmarathon this weekend,” Drew says, pulling up a chair. “We know that’s Finn’s favorite show.”
“Don’t you fucking dare,” I say.
