The Games We Play

“My life is over.”

“You’re being melodramatic.”

“If I could walk, I’d march right over to where you’re sitting and cut your throat right now.”

Derek laughed, leaning back in his chair. Lacey was in the hospital, laying on the white bed, her left ankle wrapped in a cast. Derek had come to make sure that she was okay. And even though her ankle had been busted up, judging by the snippy comments she’d been making every ten seconds, she was fine. Mentally, anyway.

“You’ll be okay, Lace,” Derek smiled. “If it makes you feel any better, your team came back to win 3-2.”

“That’s good,” Lacey mumbled. “But...I don’t know, I feel like I’ve let them all down. I mean, look at my ankle!” She gestured to it wildly, the bright pink cast practically glowing and tinting the entire room in a rosy hue. “There’s no way I’m going to be able to play for the rest of the playoffs.”

Derek ran a hand through his hair. “How bad is the break?”

“Broken in three spots,” Lacey grumbled. “And it’s not just that. After it heals, I’m going to have to go to physiotherapy for months to get the strength back.”

“At least it’s not your kicking foot,” Derek shrugged. “It could be worse.”

“But it’s my grounding foot!” Lacey wailed. “Remember what happened to David Beckham with his Achilles’ tendon? He couldn’t play in the World Cup because of it!”

“Yeah, but that’s because he overworked it, not because some monster from Southwestern did an illegal slide tackle on your blind side,” Derek noted. “Your team will do well.”

Lacey sighed. “Who’d they name captain in my place?”

“I think Becky,” Derek said, pondering for a moment. “Yeah, definitely Becky.”

“That’s good,” Lacey nodded. “Becky’s a great leader. I’m not worried that they’ll do well or not, I’m just upset that now I won’t be able to help them. You know?”

“I know,” Derek said with a smile. “But look at it this way...now you can be a cheerleader. Haven’t you always wanted to be a cheerleader?”

Lacey sent Derek a death glare. “I don’t even know who you’ve confused me with, but one more comment like that and I will call the nurse and have the hospital staff throw you out.”

Derek held up his hands in fake fear. “I’m so scared!” he squealed in a high-pitched voice. “Come on, Lace. You know I’m just trying to make you feel better about all this.”

“I know,” she nodded, looking down and playing with the soft cotton hospital sheets. “I wonder how many other people have laid in his bed before me, thinking that their lives were over and that things were never going to be the same.”

Derek sent her a look. “Lace, it’s only a broken ankle. It’s not like you’ve got stage four cancer or anything.”

“I’m not trying to be a martyr or anything,” Lacey said defensively. “I’m just pissed, okay? How would you feel if you were me? This is the playoffs! We’re so close to the finals. And now I’m stuck in this fucking bed with this stupid pink cast that’s burning my retinas for God-knows-how-long!”

Derek stood up. “I’m not going to hang around if you’re going to be pouty all day long,” he stated. He walked over and gave Lacey a kiss on the forehead. “Get some rest. You’ll feel better in the morning.”

She sighed. “Alright. Bye, Der.”

“Bye, Lace.”

* * * *

Lacey’s eyes fluttered open. She hadn’t even realized that she’d been asleep, but judging by the sun gleaming through the window, it must have been morning. Her eyes went to the clock on the wall. It read 11:30am.

“Hey,” a voice called from where Derek had been seated the day before.

Lacey glanced over and saw Patrick sitting there, his playoff mullet in full swing and the early beginnings of a blond baby beard on his face. “Pat?” she asked, though it turned into a half-yawn. “What are you doing here?”

“Derek told us about what happened during the game yesterday,” he said. “Jonathan and I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Jon’s here?” Lacey asked, confused. “Where?”

“He’s been here since around six in the morning,” Patrick recalled with a lopsided smile. “Derek texted us both last night around two in the morning. I’m not going to ask what he was doing at two in the morning or why he’d be awake, but Tazer’s been here since around six. They only let him in because he’s the captain of the Blackhawks. Visiting hours don’t technically star ‘til after lunch.”

Lacey nodded. “So where is he now?”

Patrick shrugged. “I think he went to go get some food. But enough about him, how are you feeling?”

She felt herself sinking back down into her sheets. “I don’t know. Useless would probably be the best word for it.” Lacey exhaled slowly, doing her best to keep her voice from wavering. “I just feel weak, you know? Like it was something I could have prevented if I’d just paid better attention to what was going on around me. If my team loses, then I’ll have let them down and I hate myself for that.”

“Hey,” Patrick said immediately. “No one’s blaming you for anything, Lacey. I promise. You did your best. These things happen in sports. Hell, it happens all the time in hockey, anyway. People get injured, and they bounce back. I know you’ll be fine. You’re strong.”

Lacey smiled. “Thanks, Patrick.” Then she realized something. “You and Jon...you’re not still fighting, are you?”

Patrick shook his head. “After you left the arena that day, Derek talked to us and told us that we both risked losing you if we basically didn’t figure things out for ourselves,” he explained. “I really like you, Lacey. And I can’t exactly stop the feelings from being there, but...I’d rather see you happy with Jonathan than not be able to see you at all. Over the last couple of months I feel like you’ve gotten to be one of my really good friends. And I don’t want that to go away.”

Lacey smiled and reached out her hand to him. Patrick walked over to the bedside and took it gently in his.

“I meant what I said about you finding yourself the perfect girl one day, Pat,” she told him. “She’s out there. And I may not be her, but I know that when she finds you, she’ll know that she’s one of the luckiest girls on the planet.”

Patrick blushed a bit, that smile of his appearing on his face. With his usual cockiness returning, he stated, “Well, duh.”

Lacey laughed out loud, the sound of her voice bouncing around the room. Just then, Jonathan opened the door and peered his head inside.

“Finally awake?” he asked with the tiniest of grins.

Patrick smiled at Lacey again and ruffled her hair. “Feel better, okay?”

She nodded as he headed out the door, nodding to Jonathan on his way out.