Page 3 of Full Court Crush
Turning to one of her junior doctors, Amelia spoke softly. “Let’s order another set of bloods, just to be sure.”
When Amelia finished her shift, she made her way to the staff changing room. The women’s locker room was a hive of activity, as it usually was around shift change, and she had to squeeze past several people to get to her locker. She opened the grey metal door, taunted by the emergency cereal bars she had neatly stored inside. She hadn’t had time for breakfast. She couldn’t remember if she’d eaten lunch. She wasn’t even sure she knew which way was up. Her brain and body had not yet adjusted to working bank shifts, especially overnight. She briefly caught sight of the Cardiff Bay Blizzards team photo taped to the inside of her locker and smiled, standing a little taller.
The captain of a semi-professional basketball team needs to lead by example.
The Blizzards going semi-professional is why she’d switched to bank work — she needed the flexibility. Though right now, what she needed was sleep. Amelia sighed, her eyes flicking once more to the team photograph before pulling out her running gear. She swiftly changed out of her work clothes and into navy leggings and a loose-fitting grey t-shirt.
When she closed her locker door, the metallic clang ricocheted around the room, adding to the bustling cacophony of the busy staff space. She sighed and leant forward, pressing her forehead against the cool metal, her heavy eyelids closing in relief. The headache that had been brewing all morning hit her full force. The locker room door swung open and more noise flooded in, along with the sound of hurried footsteps. She thought about standing back up straight, aware of how odd she must look, but she was past the point of caring. The coolness of the metal slowly radiated down her neck and spine, calming her frayed nervous system. Taking a deep breath, she tried to relax the muscles in her jaw, forcing her mind to focus on basketball, one of the few things that calmed her.
She imagined herself standing on the free throw line, with faceless blurs lining the edge of the key, but they didn’t matter. It was just her and the hoop. She took another deep breath and lowered her shoulders, just as she would if really attempting a shot. The Amelia of her mind dribbled the ball once, twice, and then bent her knees, about to propel the ball into its graceful arc towards the net. Another locker clanged, pulling her out of her reverie. She couldn’t put off her run any longer.
Amelia pushed her way out of the hospital doors and inhaled deeply, relishing the non-clinical air. She examined her pre-planned route on her phone, double-checked it had synced with her sports watch, then slipped her phone back into a small, zipped pocket. The hustle of the hospital’s main entrance carried on around her. A couple of patients lit cigarettes near the doors, underneath a no smoking sign, their habit turning the air musty. Sleek black taxis queued up lazily to her left. The full rank had caused some of them to spill into the road. The repetitive thudding of helicopter blades drew her gaze skywards. As an air ambulance came in to land, Amelia prayed to whichever god would listen that the person inside it would be all right.
Amelia jogged, carefully placing her feet with each stride to avoid the unevenness of the pavement. The mismatched patches of tarmac and cracked paving should have been replaced years ago. Skilfully, she danced around other people on her route, occasionally stepping onto the road to avoid a wheelchair user or larger groups. The rhythmic thudding of her feet calmed her. The further she got from the hospital, the further she went from being paediatric doctor Amelia Preston, and the more her shoulders unhooked from under her ears.
Her route took her around the outside of the park, where tall trees bordered grassy areas on her right. The hospital, and then a series of cardboard cut-out bungalows, was on her left. There was no pavement here, just a dirt track worn into the grass by countless others that came before. She stepped further onto the grass to let a gaggle of nursery-age children, wearing reins and tiny branded high-visibility vests, pass by. The accompanying childcare workers were talking amongst themselves or pointing out the pretty flowers to the children. The high-pitched giggles were infectious, and Amelia couldn’t help but smile.
She turned down a short access road that cut across the dirt path and terminated next to a small pond. Ducks floated lazily on the water, barely creating a ripple on the mirror-like surface. Plenty of bird feed lay scattered around, including several large, seemingly dumped, piles, and she wondered if this had been the nursery children’s destination. Songbirds twittered in the trees. Her feet found another path, heavily guarded by trees and bushes. She had a split-second view of a cyan blur before it sent her tumbling to the ground.
She put her hands out behind her to try to brace her fall, but she still ended up hitting the ground with quite some force. Her ankle twisted. Water immediately soaked through her leggings to her underwear, sending a chill up her spine.
“Shit.” She sighed, inspecting her hands for damage. She’d learnt the hard way that trying to do her job with injured hands was challenging. “At least watch where you’re going.”
This would be just her luck. Getting injured just after starting a new job, and before a new season.
When Amelia glanced up, the other woman was appraising her, eyes wide. Stray strands of her shoulder-length light brown hair clung to her face, and deep concern filled rich brown eyes. Amelia forced a smile and accepted the woman’s help to her feet. Moving gingerly, she ignored the mild throbbing in her ankle.
“Are you okay?” Amelia asked, slipping into doctor mode almost instantly, gaze scanning her ‘patient’. The curve of the woman’s well-toned shoulders and biceps distracted her. She tracked a bead of sweat slowly tracing the contours of her lightly tanned skin. It took her a few seconds to realise she was outright staring.
“Me? I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. Are you okay? Where are you hurt?”
“Please, don’t worry, you’d be surprised how many times a week I end up on my ass, this is par for the course.” Amelia laughed, then immediately blushed.Why on earth did I say that?Her embarrassment forced her to quickly plan her escape.
“Well…if you’re okay, we’ve both got runs to finish.” Amelia smiled awkwardly.
“Yeah…yes, of course,” the other runner said and stepped out of her way. Amelia started jogging again, her face fixed in a grimace at the pain in her ankle. As soon as she had rounded the corner out of sight, she ground to a halt and grabbed a nearby railing for support. She took a few deep breaths and then hobbled to a nearby bench. Gingerly, she sat down on her sore buttocks and undid the laces of her shoe. Her ankle had already started swelling, but she didn’t think it looked too badly damaged. It was probably just a mild sprain. She leant back on the bench to catch her breath before attempting to hobble back to the staff car park at the hospital. She hoped her ankle wasn’t too painful to drive. She felt her cheeks heat with secondary embarrassment. She’d just talked about her ass with a complete stranger.
A good looking, stranger, though. Strong-looking, too.
Amelia shook herself.
From where she sat, she could see the tennis and basketball courts, and through the wire fence that surrounded them, the children’s playground. The sound of children’s laughter radiated outward and drew her in. She watched as guardians ran after their children, who were giggling the entire time. Another grown-up sat in the sandbox with their child, wincing each time the toddler dumped a bucket full of sand over their legs.
Amelia sighed as she thought back to her own childhood; she and her sister playing with each other in the park, while their latest childminder read a book or chatted with their friends. It reminded her of one of the first Welsh words she learnt after moving to the city; hiraeth. To experience an intense longing, something like homesickness tinged with grief or sadness, for a Wales that no longer existed. Amelia felt similarly about her childhood sometimes; desperately homesick for a childhood that only existed in her imagination.
A small child trundled past on a bright pink bike, tassels flapping in the breeze. She waited for the accompanying grown-up to pass, then cautiously got to her feet, testing her injured ankle with some tentative steps before making the long walk back to her car.
Amelia limped up the two steps to her blue front door, digging her keys out of her bag as she did so. The sun’s bright rays seemed contradictory to the heaviness of her eyelids. The door snagged and crumpled the post as she pushed it open, dragging letters and the doormat across the hallway. Amelia glanced at it and decided she’d deal with it later. The wide, tiled hallway led past white oak stairs, with doors leading to the living room, dining room, and kitchen. Amelia placed her keys in the small basket she kept by the door and hung her bag over the banister. She limped to the kitchen and made a beeline for the freezer, pulling out a large ice pack and wrapping it in a damp tea towel. Next, she opened the fridge to decide what to have for dinner. There wasn’t a huge amount of choice; her fridge was almost barren. She’d been too busy to order groceries. One thing that was present, though, was a Japanese cherry blossom gin. Gin was one of her few vices — not in quantity, but quality; usually, anyway. She whipped up a large gin and tonic, grabbed the ice pack and a takeaway menu off the fridge, and hobbled to the living room.
Amelia carefully sat down on the sofa and rolled up her trouser leg. Unsurprisingly, her ankle was more swollen than before; the discomfort scrunched her face as she tested the range of motion. Definitely sprained, thankfully only mildly. Grabbing one of the sofa cushions, she placed it on the coffee table, then delicately lifted her injured limb onto the soft fabric and wrapped it in ice.
The brightly coloured takeaway menu looked jarring in the clean, warm, neatly organised living room. Amelia picked it up, but before she could begin perusing the options, the opening hours caught her eye. It was barely ten in the morning; of course, they weren’t open yet. She tossed aside the menu and opened a food delivery app on her phone, quickly finding somewhere that was open and able to deliver something that wasn’t breakfast food — her body was getting ready for sleep, not starting the day. Order placed, she put her phone down, leant her head back, and closed her eyes. She could imagine what she looked like slouched on the sofa with her leg elevated in front of her. Her mother’s voice piped up in her consciousness like a shard of glass, telling her how improper it was to have her foot on the coffee table, and for mercy’s sake, sit up straight. She pushed her mother’s voice from her mind. Her mother hadn’t just worked her third consecutive overnight shift.
Her phone buzzed loudly on the sofa, the vibrations making it hop across the cushion like a skipping stone. Amelia kept her eyes closed a little longer, the blissful near darkness soothing her headache. Eventually, she cracked open her eyes and picked up her phone to see a notification from her group chat with her best friends, Evie and TJ.
TJ:
Yo pipsqueak, guess who’s assistant coaching the Blizzards women this season!