Page 46 of Goalie Secrets
Icannotkeep putting myself out there. If there’s one thing that is clearer as my feelings get stronger, it’s that if she won’t close the distance between us, neither will I. The current status quo—with Vanya as someone whose company I enjoy and whose medical care is incredible—will have to be enough.
It doesn’t matter that I want her in a way I’ve never wanted another woman, the next time I reach for her, it’s because she wants me to. If that day never comes, well, it’s not something I can control.
That’s the price of wanting someone as unreachable as Dr. Vanya Kapur.
“Damn, Vanya, the flexibility is unreal,” Gordon states as he tests his ankle.
“Keep the athletic tape on for as long as you can. You’re not skating for a few days, right?” I confirm while updating my files after his one-hour session.
“No games till after Christmas. How about you?”
“No hockey games for me either,” I answer with a smirk, knowing full well that’s not what he’s asking.
“You know that’s not what I mean. Are you taking time off to go home? Jeremy says you’re originally from Toronto.” Gordon puts on a sweater and gathers his sports bag while making small talk.
“I’m staying around. The clinic is closed but I have other things I need to work on.”
“You work too—”
A knock interrupts the rest of Gordon’s comment, thank goodness.
“Come in. We’re done,” I call out.
“Just checking to see if you’re wrapping up soon.” Pete sticks his head in. “Eric Deichert is in room four.”
“Eric Deichert? The OSU football player? I know him,” Gordon declares cheerily. “Are you fixing all the athletes in town, Vanya?”
“It’s just a consultation,” I state absentmindedly while opening a new file. “See you next time, Gordon.”
I’m walking out, gearing up for the consultation, when I notice a large man filling the doorway of room four. He has to beat least six-five and over two hundred pounds of muscle.
“Hi, Dr. Vanya Kapur. It’s so good to meet you.” The man I assume is Eric Deichert says with a hand outstretched. “Now that this hockey goon is finished hogging all your time.”
“Who are you calling a goon, old man?” Gordon banters back.
I take Mr. Deichert’s hand. “Good to meet you, Mr. Deichert. I hope you weren’t waiting too long.”
“He’s an old retiree, Vanya. Eric’s got nothing better to do,” Gordon continues to jive.
What is it about athletes and their constant trash talk? Is this part of their university education, or something?
“Please, call me Eric,” he says while shaking my hand. “Don’t listen to this man-child. He doesn’t know how to participate in adult conversations.”
Despite the mutual digs, they do the man-clasp-shoulder-slap greeting that indicates an easy familiarity between athletes. I’ve seen plenty of versions of it in the last few months. By the time I finish washing my hands and lifting the back rest of the medical exam table, Gordon is gone. Eric and Pete have closed the door so the three of us can talk privately.
“How long have you had issues with your calf, Eric? Does it stem from a football injury or something else?” I get down to business.
“It started as an irritating tightness about a year ago. I thought it was from working out, so I did the usual rest, ice, elevation thing. The worst of the pain would ease for a while but kept coming back.”
“Can you tell me your pain level today?”
“I’m always at around a five or six, but it gets worse sometimes. Did you see the test results?”
“The ultrasound was inconclusive. Do the physical therapy sessions help improve mobility and pain level?”
He gives one curt nod. “Pete and Kyle have me on a manageable regimen but it’s driving me nuts not knowing what’s wrong.”
“Understandable. I’m sure the uncertainty is frustrating. During today’s consultation, we’ll see if you’re a good candidate for a particular sequence of imaging. Are you ready to start?”