Who Wouldn't Want To Be Me

“Hey, how you feeling?” I blinked a few times, trying to clear the foggy feeling in my head, before slowly looking to my side, seeing Steve sitting there. He looked stiff, and awkward, almost wary, which confused me. I wondered where I was, before realizing I was in the hospital, in a hospital gown. I had a few foggy recollections since I remembered passing out in the CONSOL Center, but I couldn’t make heads or tails of them.

“O-okay,” I allowed, feeling stiff and then strange from the medication and painkillers they’d obviously put into my system.

“Good, good. Um, can I ask you a question?” he asked. Steve looked anxious, making me wonder just how serious my injury was. Something told me that it was something else on his mind, some kind of gut instinct, but I couldn’t figure out what else would be on his mind.

“Sure,”

“When were you gonna tell us?” he asked, and I froze. Oh god no, he couldn’t know. I wasn’t ready for everybody to know; I hadn’t really proved myself yet, they didn’t need me on the team the way they needed Sid or Geno or Tanger or Gronk, so they’d more than likely give me the boot.

“T-tell you w-what?” my voice shook, although I knew it was useless to play dumb. I felt the hot tears threaten my eyes and I refused to look at the man who’d become such an important part of my life so quickly. One of the few people who’d helped the hurt of losing my dad become background pain, something that didn’t consume me anymore. I knew everybody would be mad, and that losing them was a possibility, but I couldn’t lose Steve anymore than I could stand to lose Jordan.

“Why you don’t need to wear compression shorts,” he said with a slight hint of a smile on his face. Trust Steve to make something like this humorous. It almost made me laugh, except that the impending loss of his friendship was too stifling to truly amuse me.

“Because they wouldn’t have let me try out if I didn’t,” I whispered, feeling myself choke up. “Hockey’s everything to me Steve; I’ve loved it since I was seven. I’ve wanted to be an NHL player since I was eight, even though I didn’t start to play or skate right away, and it’s all I have left of him. I couldn’t just give it up.”

Instead of being angry and walking out of the room as I had expected Steve came over to me and sat on the edge of the bed, before softly pushing my bangs off of my face. I sniffed, fisting the tears away from my eyes as I tried to keep myself together in front of him.

“You could have tried out and then told us Cam; a good hockey player is a good hockey player,” he told me, but I shook my head.

“No, that doesn’t work. I tried that once; and the coach booted me off the team the next practice. I’d give anything to play hockey Steve; anything. Please, please don’t tell anybody,” I begged, and he let out a sigh.

“You’ll have to tell them eventually,” he pointed out, to which I nodded.

“I know, and I’m going to. I just wanted to wait until I was an important part of the team, until Dan and Ray and everyone realized that I belonged here and that I’d proved myself here so that they won’t just give me the boot as soon as they find out,” I said, and he sighed before pulling me into a careful hug. I was surprised, and beyond glad that Steve seemed to take the news so well, and be so accepting of it. I wasn’t sure what I would do without him, or how I could stand to go to the rink and see him knowing how angry and hurt he was because of me. I leaned into him, and his grip on me tightened as he rubbed my back softly.

“Well my girl, as long as you tell them eventually. But for the next few weeks you are living at my house,”

“W-what? Why?” I asked.

“Because there’s no way in hell I’m letting you stay by yourself with a gash like this; twenty eight stitches is no picnic, and Shelly won’t be okay with you staying by yourself either, so there’s no use arguing.”

“But Becka’s there,” I argued, and he chuckled. He had obviously anticipated this.

“I texted Shelly and she already phoned Becka, who happens to agree with us,” he informed me, and I sighed before leaning into him. It felt like he’d just lifted a hundred pound weight from my shoulders, and I felt tired from the relief. Suddenly I realized I had no sense of time, or how long I’d been here, so I lifted my head from his shoulder.

“What time is it?”

“Three o’clock,” he said, which didn’t make sense to me. The game hadn’t started until seven.

“It’s Wednesday Cam,” he added, making it all make sense to me. I’d been in the hospital overnight. I nodded, letting out a yawn as I leaned my head back against his shoulder, feeling like a little girl again; my dad coming in to kiss me goodnight after a rough game.

“Just go to sleep my girl, I’ll make sure nobody around here says a word about your secret and I’ll wake you up when you can come home,” he said.

“Steve, you’re not mad at me for not telling you, are you?” I asked, needing desperately to know as I fought the drowsiness.

“Not really mad no, just a little surprised I guess. I mean, you love it, and you’d do anything to keep what you love. It’s enduring to see how strong you are, and hey, I have enough sons, what dad doesn’t want a little girl to look out for?” he asked, and I felt the tears stream down my cheeks as I hugged him tightly, ignoring the pain in my side as I did so.

“Thank you so much Steve,” I whispered as I fell asleep in his arms.