AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“No, that’s what you hoped for.” I toss my napkin onto the table and stand up too. My voice rises to match. “Do you know what I hoped for, during all those years of PT? To play hockey again! It’s why I fought so hard even though every exercise hurt like the hit itself, over and over.”
My eyes are welling up. I wipe the first tears away with the hem of my fuzzy sweater. Mom’s hands move, as if to reach for me, but she stops herself.
“Why do you treat me like I’m a fool for wanting what I had before the accident?” I hate that my voice, my entire body, quakes. But I don’t regret it. I don’t want to go back to the tense, artificial silence of five minutes ago. Taking a deep breath, I say, “I already know I won’t be able to play hockey all my life, like I dreamed of as a child. But it’s what makes me happy. It’s what makes me me.”
“But, mija.” Mom looks like she’s on the verge of tears, but she’s holding out much better than I am. Slowly, she gets up and engulfs me in the first hug she’s given me in months. “Isn’t it better to give it up now, before something bad happens?”
I sigh into her shoulder. “Why are you so sure something bad will happen?”
“Because…”
“Because we’re afraid,” Dad says to finish Mom’s sentence. I look up and catch him run a hand down his face. Like magic, in that sweep, he looks ten years older. “We’re not rich. If anything happens to you again, and we’re not able to help?—”
“I know that. And it’s another reason I’m playing.” I pull away from Mom and glance from her to Dad. “Full ride, remember?”
“You could study somewhere else,” Mom mutters. “Somewhere cheaper.”
“No, I really can’t.” I shake my head. “Please, I don’t… I don’t want to live full of regret.”
Silence settles like a heavy blanket over us. Our shoulders sag, and one by one, we return to our seats at the table. The food’s gone cold, but I don’t really have the energy to get up and heat it in the microwave.
“Are you gonna eat that?”
My eyes snap up to Aran. He points at my plate. Bless this fool.
I push the plate to him and watch, equal parts marveled and horrified, as he polishes it off in two minutes flat. My mind goes blank as I watch him, which I guess is why people watch reality shows.
A snort echoes around our small kitchen. It becomes a laugh. Aceituna shakes as amusement comes off her in waves.
“You guys are so weird.” She points at Aran and me, as if she also isn’t completely off tune.
Dad puts an elbow on the table to rest his face on his hand. “Luz Maria.”
“Arturo,” I say in return. It makes his lips twitch.
“This is serious. Are you going to keep playing hockey?”
“Yes.”
He inhales deep through his nose. “And if you get injured again?”
“And if I don’t?”
“Even if you don’t, you still have chronic pain for life, mija.” Mom finally reaches for my hand. I stare at our linked fingers for a moment.
“So do millions of Americans, Mom. And thousands of elite athletes too.”
“You can’t tell,” Aran says all of a sudden. He’s done eating and now leans back, rubbing his stomach. “You should come watch Luz play.”
“It’s true.” Aceituna shrugs. “Even I can tell she’s good. Better than the girls who probably don’t have chronic pain.”
Because I want it more. None of my teammates know what losing hockey is like. Not yet. Most of them will probably not go pro, but they’re all working toward that chance of making a career out of the sport. The risk of injury is the same for everyone, but the sense of loss is still something they know they’ll deal with down the road.
That visceral hunger I feel for every second I get to play is what I displayed during bootcamp. I was on medication twenty-four-seven, but damn it, I busted my ass. I connected the plays. I never quit the drills. I puked just a little less than everyone else. And I became the captain of the team because of it.
Taking encouragement from my siblings, I say, “I’m the captain of the team.” Both my parents turn to me, eyes wide. “Not to brag but, yeah, I’m pretty good.”
“Are you?” This is what makes Mom’s bottom lip start trembling.
