Page 31 of Slapshot Baby

Three months is August. Training camp. Six months is November, a quarter of the season gone.

"And the memory recovery has nothing to do with the physical recovery?"

"Correct. You may be back on the ice long before any personal memories return. Or memories may surface during rehab. There's no pattern we can predict."

"Okay."

She watches me. "You're steadier than most."

I'm not steady. I'm just not going to come apart where you can see it.

My eyes meet hers. "You said it comes back for some people..."

"Yes."

"Then I'm going to be one of the ones it comes back for."

"Kai, I need you to hear the part where it might not."

"I heard every word. You gave me the odds. I'm not arguing them, I'm telling you what I'll do with them."

She holds my gaze a long moment, then shrugs.

"Rest. Fighting it won't make you heal faster."

I disagree with her, but I don’t say anything as she starts walking out. She pauses at the door.

"The will to recover matters. It's just not the same as controlling the outcome. Don't confuse the two. It will break your heart."

Then she's gone.

But I know what to do, because I’ve forgotten people like Ava, Wyatt, and Jordan. Parts of my memory with my team are missing. I don’t even remember anything about my captain days.

I lie back watching the hockey-stick balloon drifts on its string.

I think about the cup I won and can't remember lifting. The teammates who know stories about me that I can’t confirm or deny. The coach who remembers a fight I started over a shoulder I apparently destroyed.

Four years of my life is sitting behind a wall in my brain. The doctors can’t tell me if I’ll ever break through that wall.

Fine.

I've been the underdog before. Been the guy nobody expected to make the roster, earn the C, score the overtime winner.

I apparently did all of it once.

I've spent my whole life clawing back things people wrote off. A knee they said wouldn't hold. Becoming one of the best players even when people said I wouldn’t be any good. I got all of it by refusing other people’s version of me.

I'll do it again. Every part.

And if the memories show up along the way, good. If they don't, I'll build new ones worth keeping.

I press the call button.

"Can you find out when I can start physical therapy?"

A pause. "Dr. Harold recommended rest for at least..."

"I heard what she recommended. I'm asking when I can start."