The Tales of a Future Hockey Wife

Chapter 28: Did We Win?

~Ben~

My head fucking hurts. It's the only thing I am able to say. With every word I say, it feels like nails are being pinned into my scull. It's the worst pain I ever felt. Is it hair I am holding? I don't have a chance to find out, the feeling is gone immediately. I hear the sound ping repeatedly, I just don't know if it's in my head or if it's real. I can't bring myself to open my eyes because I know the light will blind me, and I am not ready to face what happened just yet. Is it possible to just fall back into the comfortable darkness? I guess not. I feel someone's hands on my face, trying to open my eyes. I push the hands away from my face, and I don't know what happened but a loud beeping noise blasts through what I assume to be my hospital room. I hear footsteps coming in in a rush. Someone, a feminine voice shouts that everything's okay. I apparently just got the monitor off of my hand. Everything's okay, that's good, I guess. I hear it then, her voice comes to me clearly when everyone else stops shouting, clearing the fog in my head. She says my name, just my name over and over again. She then asks me to open my eyes. She's crying, I can hear it in her voice. Don't cry, Ella. I try to say the words, but they get stuck in my throat, making me cough. I try to open my eyes again. It works this time.

The first thing I see is a woman of a certain age in blue scrubs smiling down at me. Next to her is a man in a white lab coat. The stereotypes of the doctor and his nurse, if I could I would laugh, but I'm afraid laughing will hurt more than anything, so I refrain myself. Ella, I want to see Ella. I want to tell her to stop crying, not for this, not for me. El should be easy enough to say. Two letters, Ben, you can do this.

"El." I don't like the sound of my voice, it's raspy like I spend the evening swallowing sandpaper. I can't even recognize it, I hate not recognizing my own voice. The nurse steps to the side, making her appear. She's wearing a black dress. Why is she wearing a dress? She did her hair too. It's straight now, not in her usual curls I love so much. She steps forward, grabbing my hand in hers. Her fingers are cold, as usual, but I don't mind. I got used to her cold fingers and feet. It became a joke between us. There are tears in her eyes. I try and wipe them off with my other hand, but it hurts too much. "What happened?" I'd like to elaborate, but I can't. Talking hurts my head.

"You stopped skating in the middle of the attack zone, no one knows why. Someone ran into you with enough force to make you fall face first on the ice. You lost consciousness immediately, so they called an ambulance." I stopped skating? Why did I do that? I force myself to think about it. I replay the scene in my head the best I can, but everything is a blur. I remember skating towards the goaler, raising my head up, and then nothing.

"Did we win?" I really want to know. I want to make sure I didn't ruin it for the team. She rolls her eyes at me. I annoyed her, I know I did. How can he think about hockey? That's probably what she's telling herself right now. She raises her shoulders, shaking her head.

"I don't know Ben. I got here after you." She wasn't in the ambulance with me? It hits me. The scene flashes back in front of my eyes. I am skating towards the goaler. It's an easy shot, I am alone. The defensemen are still too far to trouble me. I look up to the bleachers where she should be sitting with her friends, but the seats are empty. I feel pain, then nothing. I stopped skating because I was looking for her. If she wasn't at the arena, then where was she? Where would she go dressed like that? I am not even angry right now which surprises me. Maybe the pain in my head clouds my judgment. Someone coughs in the background. The doctor takes his place by my side, almost pushing Eleanor out of the way. He has to examine me, he says. She can stay, but only if I want to. I nod even if it sends shocks of pain through my head down to my spine.

He leaves fifteen minutes later, after finishing what he described as a full-body exam. Why couldn't he do that while I was unconscious? It would have hurt lot less, and it would have been less awkward. I am used to being naked in a room full of people, but they are usually my age, not my grand-father's. I have a mild concussion, but fortunately, I don't have any memory loss and I am not nauseous. When he asked that question, I saw the nurse turn around to face Eleanor who has a weird look on her face. She sits back in her chair, leaning her arms on my bed the second the doctor and his nurse leave the room.

"We need to talk," she says seriously. I agree, but not right now. Right now, the nice doctor's pills just kicked in. I close my eyes. She sighs, but she stills grabs my hand, and starts rubbing circles into my palms. I go down in seconds, welcoming the calm the darkness brings me.