Page 42 of Saving Forever with the Hockey Captain

Late morning brings another round of physical therapy.

The hallway outside the orthopedic unit has become strangely familiar over the last few days.

The handrails.

The polished floors.

The oversized photographs of mountain lakes that someone probably believed were calming.

I'm beginning to suspect every hospital in America buys artwork from the same catalog.

The therapist waits near the parallel bars.

"Morning, Captain."

"Morning."

"We're adding another lap today."

I glance toward Annette. "Did she put you up to this?"

The therapist laughs. "No."

Annette folds her arms. "I would've added two."

Traitors.

Both of them.

The first lap goes surprisingly well.

Not easy. Nothing about moving feels easy anymore.

But every step comes with a little more confidence than yesterday.

Halfway through the second lap I catch my reflection in one of the darkened windows overlooking the parking lot.

Hospital socks. Sweatpants. Arm in a sling. I barely recognize the man staring back.

Funny. A week ago, I would've measured progress in goals, Assists, minutes played.

Now...

It's measured in footsteps.

"Looking good." The therapist nods encouragingly. "One more."

I don't hesitate. By the end of the third lap my ribs are reminding me they still have opinions. I stop beside the parallel bars.

One more. I can do one more. I open my mouth. Then glance toward Annette. She hasn't said a word. She doesn't need to. Her expression says exactly what I'm already thinking.

Enough.

The therapist notices.

"So?"

I let out a slow breath. “I think we're done."