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As if ignoring them were that simple.
“Looking good out there tonight, 2-8!” Stefan calls when I skate off the ice and take my first two minutes of the night. So much for ignoring him.
“Don’t distract me, 1-4!” I call back to him, tossing a look over my shoulder and catching his smile. “I have to watch my time.”
“You’re a pro!” I can hear the smile in his voice, and I carry that with me when my skates hit the ice after my penalty and into my next shift.
After a brief intermission between the first two periods, I’m on the ice for a shift in the second, and I can feel myself slowingdown. My hip aches and I hang back as my wingers take over with the puck, racing toward the goal. When they get into a scrum with our opposing team, I skate back into the fray and don’t see the hit coming as I skate around the back of the goal and collide with an opponent, sending me right into the boards and onto the ice.
“Stay down!” Someone above me shouts, shielding me. “Everybody, back off! I’m calling time!”
CHAPTER 10
TABLES TURNED
STEFAN
Francine wasn’t kiddingwhen she said I’d be the only fan in the stands for her game. That’s why I brought the boys with me. Alex and Gabriel sit beside me, watching as the two teams warm up.
“Who is that?” Gabriel nudges me with his elbow as Francine and one of her teammates are joined by the other team’s captain. “The one with Francine? That’s who I talked to the day the rink was double booked and I never got her name.”
“I don’t know, but I bet Francine would introduce you, they appear to be close.”
“No. No, she doesn’t have to do that.” Gabriel stammers, as the three skaters separate and get ready for the start of the game. “At least not yet.”
It’s a late puck drop, something about the opposing team’s captain working a late shift at the nearby after hours clinic. Francine is on the first line for her team, and skates to center ice for the first face off of the second period, quickly winning the puck and shooting it to her right wing before falling back, slowing down and stopping just shy of the blue line. When her teammates get themselves in trouble, Francine skates toward the goal line and doesn’t see her opponent coming. They crashinto each other, hard. No one is at fault for the hit, but it sends Francine into the boards and down onto the ice.
Alex puts a supportive hand on my shoulder, and Gabriel pats my back, and suddenly I’m really glad they said yes to coming to the game tonight. Suddenly I understand Francine’s fear when the roles were reversed, and I was the one injured on the ice.
“I need to go to her,” I whisper, trying to figure out the best, quickest way to get to her. “I have to get down there.”
“Hold on,” Gabriel stops me, “someone is attending to her.”
Francine stays down as someone calls time and the skaters back off, giving her space. A defensewoman from the opposing team – the third woman in the group with Francine during pregame – leaps over the boards and onto the ice, shucking her gloves as she does, and skating toward Francine. She assesses Francine and gets her to a sitting position, but when they try to get Francine to her feet, that’s when I start to worry. Her right skate doesn’t touch the ice. She balances, teetering a bit, on her left skate as her linemate and the opposing defender help guide her off the ice and toward the bench across from where I’m sitting.
“Now’s your chance,” Alex says, “the ice is clear. Do what you have to.”
Some community rinks like this have regulation glass like the pro arenas do. This one doesn’t, and while I’m normally in favor of taking as many safety precautions as possible, tonight I’m glad I’m not inhibited as I come off my bench and my feet hit the ice. This would be easier if I had my skates, but I make it across the ice with little effort before coming to the bench. The skaters clear a path for me, giving me access to Francine where she’s seated on the bench.
My trek across the ice garners a few whispers from both benches. A few raised eyebrows and curious looks, but once I’mkneeling in front of Francine, all attention leaves us. Francine’s linemate, who seems to be in charge of both benches, calls for play to resume as she and I, and the defender from the other team, assist Francine into the locker room.
“Rachel, Malina,” Francine gestures to the two skaters, “this is Stefan. Stefan, this is Rachel Winters and Dr. Malina Zee.”
“Nice to meet you both,” I take as much of Francine’s weight as she’ll allow, short of fully carrying her into the locker room, “wish the circumstances were different.”
Once in the locker room the defender, Malina, helps Francine out of her skates and gear, until she’s in just her compression leggings and matching top. Malina gently feels around Francine’s knee, manipulating the joint, and as she does my eyes are glued to Francine’s face. When Malina attempts to bend Francine’s knee back, Francine slams her eyes shut, teeth clenched, and when her leg is extended, just shy of full extension, she bites back a yell.
I’ve seen this before. If I had to guess…
“I can’t give you medical advice,” Malina says, her tone serious, “so this is menottelling you that I think you need an MRI.”
Francine opens her eyes, meeting my gaze.
“Malina is an orthopedic resident at the medical center downtown,” Francine clarifies for my benefit. “What shouldn’t I do, Malina?”
Francine closes her eyes, leaning her head against the wall behind her and taking slow, easy breaths.
“Don’t go to your ortho as soon as possible,” Malina answers with a soft smile. “Don’t ask for a referral for an MRI, and definitely don’t tell them that you suspect cartilage damage. Also, definitely don’t let this guy right here drive you home and get you settled for the night. ”
