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DENIED
STEFAN
Two daysafter Francine’s injury, I’m in the office asking management for enough time off to get her through her surgery and the first few days of recovery. We’ll be on a roadie to New York, Toronto, and Ottawa. We’re supposed to be in Toronto on the day of her surgery. She had an appointment yesterday that confirmed our suspicions of damaged cartilage in her knee that is keeping her from being able to use the joint to it’s full extent. Surgery is her only option.
“Is she pregnant?” The powers-that-be ask.
“No,” I answer, doing my best to keep annoyance out of my voice.
“Dying?”
“Why would you ask that?” This time Idon’thold back my annoyance.
“If it’s not family leave or bereavement leave, I’m sorry Stefan, but the answer is no.”
Without comment, I stand up and leave the office, making my way down to the rink where morning practices will be starting. In my gear and skates, I head ot the ice and take out my frustration on as many pucks as I can, and am careful not to check any of my teammatestoohard when we scrimmage. Butmy mood is sour and stays that way throughout the day and right up to game time.
Making a quick trip home before the game, I pick up Francine and we drive together to the arena. She’s spending time at my place before her surgery, since it’s easier to navigate my house than it is her apartment, and I won’t lie, it’s been nice to have her around. But I know that when I walk into the house I have to school my features so that she doesn’t guess I’ve spent the day one wrong move from my anger and frustration completely spilling over.
“Hey,” she calls from the couch as I open the door, Stevie contently laying curled up beside her. “How was practice?”
“Fine,” I answer, stepping into the living room and kissing the top of her head. “Coach feels good about the game tonight.”
“Good,” she swings her feet around, setting them carefully on the floor in front of her. “I always love when the Miners come to town. It feels like such a classic matchup.”
I’m not in the mood for nostalgia, but I muster a smile before busying myself in the kitchen, feeding Stevie, and making my usual pregame meal.
“Have you had dinner?” I ask as Francine slowly rounds the corner into the kitchen and takes a seat at the dining table. “I eat at home on game days. Routine and all that.”
“What are we having?”
“I’m having pasta. You can have whatever you want.” My words have more bite to them than I intended and I immediately regret the way I sounded just now.
“Hey,” Francine gets up from the table, closing the distance between us. “Did I do something? You’ve been giving me the cold shoulder all day, and I can’t say I appreciate you snapping at me.”
She’s bold, I’ll give her that.
“I’m sorry, Francine,” I brace myself on the counter, doing my best to keep physical boundaries between us at the moment. “I didn’t mean to snap at you. You didn’t do anything, in fact it’s been great to have you around. I wasn’t going to tell you about this, but I had a meeting with management today.”
“Management always makes me a little moody too,” she offers with a small laugh, and a gentle hand on my arm. “Tell me what happened.”
“I was hoping to get time off for your surgery. A couple days in the middle of the road trip to come home for your surgery and a day or two of recovery, just to get you settled.”
“And they said no.” Her voice is soft. Calm. Understanding. Everything that I don’t currently feel. “I appreciate that you even asked.”
“How are you so calm right now?” I ask, the frustration that’s been simmering all day starts bubbling up and I don’t want Francine in the way of it.
“I have Rachel.” She answers, matter of fact. “And Malina. They won’t let me go it alone, and when you get back, I’ll be here.”
All I offer her is a stiff nod. In response, she worms her way into my arms, wrapping her own around my waist and softly kissing me. When she lets me go, she helps herself to a bag of lettuce in my fridge and throws together a salad. We eat in tense silence, Stevie’s eyes darting between us while wedon’ttalk to each other. After dinner, Francine drifts slowly down the hall and emerges a few minutes later in her usual black pants, dress shirt – tonight, a black button up, open at the collar – and league blazer over top. Her hair is down and loose around her shoulders, and if she weren’t injured and I didn’t have a game to play, I think I could come up with a few excuses for us to stay in tonight.
But, as I was reminded earlier today, I have a game to play.
Usually I look forward to facing the Miners, but tonight not even seeing my old friend and former World Juniors and National Team teammate could make this day better. Chris skates over to the center line during warmups, crushing me in a hug and pressing his helmeted head to my helmet-less one.
“Stefan,” he nearly shouts, “how’ve you been?”
“To be honest Chris, today hasn’t been great.”
