Chapter 19

“Todd!” I moaned from the training table as I did one of my most dreaded exercises. Leg lifts. “This hurts!”

“Then don’t do it,” he stated matter-of-factly, reading something on his computer. I was sitting in the training room at school doing my exercises. I was spending more time at my dorm than at Sid’s house now that school had started back up a few weeks ago, but I only went all the way down to the Fitness Center because I hated doing the exercises in my room on the gross carpet where at least thirty drunk kids have thrown up in the course of this building’s existence.

“Todd!” I whined. “If I don’t do them, then I can’t get cleared!” My crutches were propped against the wall and my knee brace was occupying a whole other table entirely.

“Well then, I guess you should do them,” was all he said, still reading his computer screen. I grumbled a little about them before settling in to push through the rest. I always saved the worst for last, and I was near the end, so they were getting increasingly more painful. Out of nowhere, Todd suddenly spoke. “I didn’t know Sid hurt his knee,” he said quizzically, turning around to look at me. I just sat there. This was the first I heard about it.

“I, uh, didn’t know he hurt himself,” I stated blankly. For some reason, him not telling me about his injury stung. “I have to go,” I said, and numbly grabbed my brace and crutches. I had the brace on in record time and was out the door before Todd could think twice about what had just occurred. I ripped my phone out of the big bag I had started to drag around with me, punched the numbers 87 and pushed send. It rang a few times before he picked up.

“Hey,” he said into my ear. He sounded tired, but I didn’t care. I was mad and hurt.

“When were you going to tell me you hurt your knee?” I practically screamed into the phone, causing people to look at me like I had just escaped from the looney bin. There was a deep sigh on his end that caused the sound to crackle in my ear.

“I was looking out for your safety,” he stated. “You have your own knee to worry about. I can handle this myself.”

Despite the fact that he meant well, I was still angry. “I’m upset now Sidney! I had to find out from Todd. Did you really think you could keep this from me?” The only response I got was a slight sigh. “Did you?” The tone in my voice softened. I just wanted him to talk to me now. I wanted to hear his voice say he’s alright.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I didn’t want you to worry about me. You have your own issues.”

“Don’t feel like you can’t tell me these things,” I said softly. “Just because I have my own knee to worry about doesn’t mean I don’t care about yours.”

“I’m sorry I was trying to do what I think is best for us,” he said huffily. I was totally taken aback by his sudden defensiveness.

“Sidney-“ I started, but he cut me off.

“I can take care of us,” he said quickly.

“I never said you couldn’t,” I said, trying to placate him.

“Then let me handle this.”

“Fine,” I said slowly. I took a chance on my next words. “I’m coming over. I need to see your knee myself.”

“I’m fine,” he said sharply.

“I’m still coming over,” I insisted.

“Fine. Do whatever the hell you want,” he spat into the phone.

“I’ll be there in ten!” I said as cheerily as possible.

“I love you,” he said grumpily. I returned the words and hung up my phone, throwing it back in my bag where it would probably take 30 minutes to find next time I needed it.
-
I showed up at his house some 20 minutes later, having had to convince Melissa that taking me to Sidney’s house was a good idea, and when I rang the doorbell, it took him quite some time to answer it. I just stood there waiting, inspecting his storm door that was calling out to me, “WASH ME!” He finally opened it, and I noticed he had an ice-pack on his right knee. He opened the door for me and I hobbled over the threshold down the hallway and into the living room where I had spent at least a month of my life. I plopped down on the couch that doubled as my bed, and patted the spot next to me.

“Sit. Show me your knee,” I said. He gave me a look that said, “I’m too tired to care.” He sat and rolled up the sweats to his muscular thigh. He proceeded to unwrap the ace bandage that was keeping the ice pack in place. It revealed a big ugly bruise encompassing his whole knee, the color of an angry plum, if plums could be angry. I lightly brushed my fingertips over it and he winced. “What’d you do?!” I asked, astounded.

“I got jammed into the boards in my last game. I didn’t think much of it, but now it’s killing me.”

“Did you show the trainer?” I asked. Hockey players have a tendency to hide their injuries and play them off as less severe than they actually are. I wanted him to be OK. I didn’t want him to end up like me, on crutches for months.

“Yes. They took an MRI, but all the knee checks came out find. My knee’s still tight. They say all the ligaments are intact.” I mulled this over, thinking about my own knee. The thought of him having to go through what I did killed me.

“I really hope you’re OK,” I said, melting into him. “I’m just worried you’ll have to go through what I did. It all seems so similar.” I was starting to get upset, actually upset, and he picked up on it. Despite his crappy mood, he was still the Sidney I knew, and he wrapped his arm around my shoulders and brought me to his chest.

“I’ll be alright,” he said gruffly. “This is why I didn’t want to tell you,” he said, kissing my temple. I looked down and all I could see was the huge brace on my knee and the ice pack on his.

“Look at us,” I said with a laugh. “We’re like broken toys. Like Woody and Jessie from Toy Story.” I didn’t think he’d get the reference, but he laughed a genuine laugh, not that fake tin-y laugh he does, but his actual girlish laugh. That alone made me feel better. Just hearing his laugh made me laugh, and before I knew it, we were both laughing uncontrollably. Our laughter slowly died away, and I somehow ended up in his lap.

“Oh, I like you,” he suddenly said, catching me off guard.

“Well, I love you.”