Page 61 of Saving Forever with the Hockey Captain

“Annette?” She pauses at the door.

“Thank you.”

Her expression softens. “For the paperwork?”

“For repeating it until I listen.”

She smiles. “Don’t thank me yet.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m going to repeat it again before you leave.”

I lean my head back against the pillow. “I was afraid of that.”

She steps into the hallway.

“Good.”

The door remains half open behind her.

I look down at the packet in my lap. All of it is printed in neat black letters, proof that I’m leaving the hospital, proof that I’m not going back to my life.

Not yet.

Maybe not for a long time.

For the first time all morning, the word today doesn’t feel like a door.

It feels like the first step into a much longer hallway.

***

I wait for Coach downstairs. I’m officially discharged.

Annette hands me the exercise packet.

We stand there.

Cold morning air.

Ambulance bay.

People coming and going.

She tells me quietly. “You've done the hard part."

I smile and shake my head. "I don't think so."

She studies me.

Then says...

"No."

Pause. "I think the hard part starts when everyone else goes back to living their lives."

***