Page 40 of Goalie Secrets
“Walk normally, please,” a medical technician instructs. I take a few steps and the treadmill adjusts under me.
As I progress, a giant hologram pops up on the wall. It’s in full 3D, outlined by neon lines and glowing joints, highlighting everylittle twist and hitch in my movement. It’s like a life-size video game version of me.
“Fascinating,” someone mutters from behind me. Yeah, fascinating—if you enjoy watching someone’s hip joint do the cha-cha. I go through different speeds from a slow uphill to a light jog. They ask me to walk straight and then sideways.
Another screen kicks in with a green figure. It’s a high-speed, perfect-skating version of me, gliding around like nothing’s ever hurt. Dr. Leroi points at it.
“The gait analysis demonstrates the ideal vascular integrity and perfusion in the hip joint.”
Before I ask him to translate, Vanya does it for me.
“The green projection is how your hip should be moving when it’s pain free. We’ll get you there, Jeremy,” she says reassuringly.
I’ll admit it’s cool, seeing the post-repair me. If that’s where this process ends up, I’ll take it. Just gotta get through this treadmill sci-fi show first. By the time they wrap things up, I’m antsy to get outside. After a full day of travel and waiting and tests, I’m stiff and starved.
“We’ll have a full report after Christmas,” Dr. Leroi says to me and Vanya. “Most processing labs are closed for the holidays.”
“Any preliminary recommendations based on the first look?” Vanya asks.
“If you say stop playing hockey, you’re fired,” I state like a joke but I’m not joking.
All this urgency toget answersis taking its toll. The source of the pain is important to understand, but I’m still the number one goalie of a team on top of our division. My performance hasn’t suffered. All the intense surveillance is making me paranoid. Getting in my head. For a goalie, the only thing more dangerous than an injury isdoubt. I shake it off.
“In that case, I’ll say nothing until we have definitive results.”
Then why am I still here?I almost yell. As if she can read my impatience, Vanya rushes through the farewells and lets me usher her onto the building’s lobby. Finally, some outdoor air and decent food, and…
Oh, shit.
Beyond the wall of glass overlooking the street is a winter blizzard. The snow falls so quickly, it’s like a thick blanket of white fluff against the gray sky.
“Oh shit,” she mutters.
“My thoughts exactly. Our flight is at six?”
Our phones had been turned off, so it’s only now that I check the time. The alerts from the airline come in a rush.
Delayed. Delayed. Canceled. When I look up, I see the same disbelief on her features.
“Do you have a game tomorrow?” she asks.
“No, because tomorrow is a travel day to Nashville. Fuck, Coach Zach is going to be pissed.”
“We should call the airline and rebook as soon as possible,” she says, going through her messages. “Wait, we’re on the same thread from Sabrina.”
I scroll through my texts
Sabrina:I’m in contact with the Mavericks front office and we’re rebooking both of you for first thing tomorrow. Jeremy you’re straight to Nashville and Vanya to Columbus. I’ve emailed you guys the itinerary.
“She’s a lifesaver,” Vanya says in awe. She types a thank you text from both of us. “But we should book hotel rooms now. I don’t want to sleep at the airport.”
“Can we do that while eating?”
She chuckles and zips up her coat. “Let’s find you some food before you waste away.”
As soon as we step out of the hospital, the wind slams into us like we’re walking by a snowplow. The blizzard is in full force,coming down in heavy sheets and blurring everything. We’re in a life-size snow globe. Vanya pulls her scarf higher, eyes barely visible under the hood of her coat.
“Should we get a cab?” she asks, her voice muffled by layers of winter gear.