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“Great. We’ll probably need to get them out by next week. That way people can start planning their fall schedules.” I can’t believe I just said that. About seventy five percent of the guest list is Alison’s friends and distant family. Most of her friends are all doctors. I think there are a few lawyers in the mix, too. I have the most in common with the pediatricians. Our conversations actually last for more than five minutes. Even though I’m in the same field as most of her friends, I feel like a stranger when I’m with them. I grew up riding bikes and catching fireflies, her friends grew up riding horses and catching private jets for trips all over the world. She hates it when I call them her TFFs, Trust Fund Friends, but I can’t believe Alison actually likes these people. I shrug. This is her wedding, too, so I need to play nice. It’s only for a day. Never mind that it’s my special day, too. At least I have a say in where the TFFs will sit during the reception.
“How are you home so early?” I always beat her home by at least an hour.
“My final patient of the day cancelled and most of the paperwork I can do from home,” she says.
“Want me to pick up some food on the way?” Our condo is centrally located in the middle of some of the best restaurants in town.
“I’m actually cooking tonight so just get home,” she says.
“Wow. I’m impressed. Okay, I’ll see you in a bit.” I hang up and resume my review of my day. I wonder why, out of all of the physical therapists in town including the ones who specialize in sports injury, Stone is at Elite Physical Therapy. The Vermont Gray Wolves should have their own therapist or doctor on hand to work with injured players. Gloria didn’t tell me so I make a mental note to find out tomorrow. Most of the time, she pushes paper and doesn’t work with patients. Consider me intrigued by Stone’s story. I check the time. The flower shop on the corner’s still open. On a whim, I pull into the parking lot. There’s something nice about showing up with roses or tulips even though Alison isn’t crazy about flowers in general. Neither of us like watching them die. I carefully place the bouquet on the back seat and head home. Thankfully, we have a garage. It’s one of the few things we splurged on when we made the condo purchase.
Before I’m through the door, Alison greets me with a glass of wine and pulls me to her for a kiss. “Hello, love.”
I hand her the bouquet. “I know it isn’t your thing, but I was in the mood to bring some home.” She takes them from me and finds a vase in the kitchen. “Tell me about your day.” I hop up on the bar stool at the kitchen nook and listen as she tells me about the two surgeries she had today. One was a meniscectomy, the other was repairing and setting a broken ankle. Our professional paths rarely cross because I work exclusively with children, but it’s happened before. I don’t tell her about Stone. I feel like I don’t have a handle on the situation yet. When Alison and I discuss patients, we never mention names, only injuries or, in my case, some patients with disabilities.
I really enjoy working with children. Watching them learn and improve every week is so fulfilling. I admit, I get teary-eyed when my patients heal and move on, but I always hear from them. Every year, I hang up their holiday cards on my office door.
“Can you set the table and pour the wine? I bought us a new red to try,” she says. I’m not fond of red wine, but I humor her. She knows this about me, but continues to try. Give me a beer or water, and I’m set.
“Do I have time to change? I promise to be back in two minutes.” The look she gives me tells me no, so I peel off my suit jacket and grab the wine instead. I slip my shoes off under the nook and untuck my blouse. If I can’t change, I sure as hell will be comfortable. She leans over and kisses my neck as she puts the salad on the table.
“I promise to help take off those horrible work clothes after dinner.” I forgive her.
Dinner is angel hair pasta with crushed garlic, sun dried tomatoes, and a splash of olive oil. I add a ton of cheese. Alison doesn’t. She is thirty-six, fit, and a true health nut. Usually our dinners are carbohydrate free with protein and a salad. It makes me long for my once a month dinner out with my few work friends. It’s the only time I indulge. Well, and any time I can sneak away at lunch, which is almost never.
“Why are we eating this decadent food? I mean, what’s the occasion?” I ask.
“Can’t I make dinner for my soon-to-be wife?” She’s entirely too accommodating right now. I squint at her. Something is up. She holds her hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay. I’ve been invited to speak at a conference in Chicago, but it’s the weekend we are spending with your parents in New York. As much as I love them, I really want to do this conference.”
My fork clatters onto the plate louder than I intend, but my point is made. “Are you serious? We’ve had to rearrange all of our schedules twice just for yours. You just can’t cancel. Our trip is in a few weeks.” I can hear myself whine, but damn it, my parents have changed their schedules at least six times in the three years Alison and I’ve been together, all for her sake. “I understand your job is important, but we all have lives and careers to consider.” Now I sound like I’m really throwing a tantrum. I change my tune. “You know, it’s okay to take a break. When was the last time we actually got away and did something fun?”
“Hayley, come on. You know how important these conferences are to me. There was a last minute cancellation and Oscar Whitmore reached out to see if I could fill the spot. I told him I would let him know tonight.”
“I should have known all of this was because you wanted something,” I say.
“That’s not fair. It all happened today. I was excited to get out at a reasonable time today and just came up with the idea to cook dinner. Can we please not fight?”
Truthfully, Alison is a workaholic. I knew this going into the relationship. Even though I’m hurt, this isn’t unusual for her. “You’re going to have to tell my parents. And I’m still going to New York,” I say.
“Fine. I will. I’m sure they will understand. You have the best parents. I really am lucky to be a part of this family.”
I know she loves them and they love her. I already know they will forgive her immediately. Because Alison is a surgeon, she gets all of the kudos from my family. It’s annoying sometimes. I soften my attitude a bit. “I’m still going.”
“I know and I agree. Thank you for understanding.”
I cross my arms over my chest. I’m not going to forgive her so easily. She always knows how to break me down anyway, so I might as well enjoy the attention. “What’s the conference about?”
“It’s the American Academy of Orthopedic Surgeons’ Annual Meeting. Thursday afternoon is the meet and greet and the conference is from Friday morning until Sunday afternoon,” she says. She knows I’m going to ask. I hate asking and she hates answering.
“Is Blaire going to be there?” Alison’s divorce wasn’t amicable. I’m not worried that she’ll sleep with Blaire, but that Blaire will turn crazy, again, and make Alison’s life miserable, which makes my life miserable.
“Yes.”
I sigh and lean back in my chair. “Do you need me to go?”
“No, babe. You go have fun in the Big Apple with your parents. I promise to be safe and avoid her at all costs.” I frown. I’m not convinced. Blaire used Alison as target practice with all of their glass and china when Alison served her divorce papers. I can’t imagine Blaire being sane now. That was only four years ago.
“I’m just bummed. I was looking forward to a weekend in New York with you and my parents.”
“I promise to make it up to you. You know I’m good for it.” This is a true statement. When Alison makes things up to me, it’s nothing less than incredible. I just want time with her.
“How much paperwork do you have?” I ask. “Time-wise. How long will it take?”
“I don’t know. Maybe an hour or so. Why?”
“I’ll clean up this mess while you work, then I’m going to draw a bath.” She hitches her eyebrow at me. “If you finish i
* * *
The clock reads 12:03 and I can’t sleep. Alison doesn’t seem to be having the same problem even though her sleeping patterns are worse than mine. In all fairness, she did exert herself nicely tonight and I’m delightfully sore as proof. Our sex life has settled down a lot since we’ve been together. We’re slowly trying new things in the bedroom. And in the Jacuzzi bath. Even though Alison is five years older than I am, she is in twice the shape. She runs when I sleep in, she works out during her lunch while I secretly eat carbs, and she enjoys eating quinoa. Nobody enjoys that. I hate the salads we eat weekly. I know she’s trying to keep us healthy and alive, but every so often I just want to order pizza and drink beer and not feel guilty about it. I’m having an affair with fattening food.
After twenty minutes of sitting, I quietly get out of bed. I snuggle under a blanket on the couch. Remote in hand, I turn on a marathon of The Walking Dead even though I’ve seen every episode. I notice a box on the coffee table. Inside, I find our wedding invitations. I open one up and smile. They’re nice. Not six hundred dollars nice, but Alison wanted them. She eloped the first time, so now she wants an elaborate wedding. Even though I have to plan it, her role is to swoop in at the last minute and change everything. I’ll be glad when this is all over.
The invitations are more contemporary than I would have liked because we chose not to list our parents. Alison’s father passed away years ago and she hasn’t talked to her mom in forever, so we had to improvise. I feel bad that my parents aren’t listed, but they understand since Alison isn’t listing her mom. I file the invitation back in the box, knowing that I will be responsible for addressing and sending them out. I might even enlist the help of Tina, one of Elite’s administrative assistants. She’s always looking for things to do. Hopefully, she can knock out most of them so that by the weekend, I’ll only have a few left. She has better handwriting than I do anyway. I curl back up on the couch and try to block wedding anxiety from my mind.
“Hayley, what are you doing out here? Come back to bed.” Alison is gently shaking my shoulder. I was finally asleep.
“What time is it?” I groan when she tells me it’s only three. She pulls me up and kisses my nose.
“I don’t like waking up without you.” I follow her and let her tuck me into bed. She wraps her arm around my waist and, within seconds, she’s asleep. Again, I’m awake with my thoughts. Stone won’t leave my mind. I’m probably intrigued by her because it’s been forever since I’ve worked with an adult. I promised to get her ready by the season, which I chalk up to an attempt at inspiration. She’s strong enough to make it happen. It was just so hard to see tears in those giant blue eyes of hers. Tomorrow, I’m going to sit myself down in Gloria’s office and get the truth about her.
Chapter Three
Gloria comes in, knocking after she opens the door. “My Keurig isn’t working. Can I use yours?”
I look up from my paperwork, annoyed at the interruption. Then, remembering I want to have a conversation about Stone, I change my tune. “Come on in. I’ve got some chocolate donut flavored coffee if you want that instead.” I couldn’t be more conniving. She slowly walks to the sideboard, her eyes never leaving mine. “So tell me why Elite agreed to work with Elizabeth Stone, professional hockey player extraordinaire. I want to know what I’m getting myself into here.” Gloria takes a seat across from me after doctoring her pastry smelling coffee.
“I’ve known her mother since college. I talked with her and Elizabeth is on the fast track to self-destruction. She’s completely distraught over this injury and has been very difficult to work with. She made the Gray Wolves’ own sports therapist cry after their first appointment. Stone’s manager strongly suggested she look outside for a physical therapist. I volunteered because I know we can help her. You have the utmost patience and can keep your shit together better than anyone else. You’re my best therapist. Even the kids who have a hard time facing their disabilities love you.”
“How many other therapists has she tried? What’s the problem other than her poor me attitude? Her injury is bad, but not necessarily career ending.” I’ve seen athletes come back from far worse injuries and still have good seasons. Gloria leans back in her chair and sighs.
“You know how athletes are. They think their injuries are the worst ever. She’s only been to one other therapist and she destroyed the room after one session. That’s when her mother called me.”
“What the hell happened there?” I start to doubt my own assessment of Stone. What did they see that I didn’t?
“The therapist was some young kid and told her he wasn’t sure she’d play hockey again. Not a great way to start the first session. Stone lost it and starting smashing her crutches into things.” Gloria doesn’t look concerned at all.
“You know how I feel about athletes. They are jerks and harder to control than kids. What if she pulls that with me?”
“Don’t tell her she can’t play hockey. Look, I know you haven’t worked with sports injuries for the last few years, but I think we can work together and salvage this girl’s career.” She pauses to take a sip of the coffee. Guilt trip planned and now I’m packing for it.
“I’m not that good.” She waves her hand at me in a dismissive way.
“You’re my best. I’m serious, Hayley. What you’ve done here has been remarkable. I know I’m asking a lot of you to take on Stone, but I’ve known her family a long time. If she doesn’t get better and improve her attitude, she will lose her job and all of her endorsements. We know what kind of downward spiral that can be.” We both have seen our fair share of athletes whose careers crashed and burned because of their injuries.
“Thank you for telling me. That perspective helps. Not to be a total shit here, but why don’t you jump back in and work on her instead of me? Your background in sports related injuries is far superior to mine, plus you know the family. That should give you the upper hand right away,” I say. The chocolate coffee smells so good that I get up and make myself a cup.
“You know that I’ve lost my patience for patients.” She pauses to smirk. “I really do prefer the administrative side of this job.” Which translates to she doesn’t want to because she’s the boss now, only eight years from retirement. I can respect that. “And I’ve a lot going on with the Children’s Dream Maker’s fund-raiser coming up.” Next month, we’re raising money for the local organization who grants critically ill children wishes. It’s heartbreaking and heartfelt at the same time.
“How difficult is Stone? Truthfully. I need to know what I’m getting into.” I hold my hands up to stop her from becoming defensive. “I’m still going to do this, for you, for the practice. I just need her history. And please tell me it’s not because we are both lesbians.” She laughs.
“Are you serious? I just need my best to work with her,” she says.
I give her a look. “I don’t see a problem with any of this. I just wanted more info. It’s been a long time since I’ve worked with adults. I figured there had to be a good reason.”
“If things get out of control, let me know. If I have to step in, I will. She’s a good kid. She isn’t used to being told no, but she’s worked hard to get where she is. Did you know she was an alternate in the Olympics a few years ago?” I shake my head. I’ll have to Google her later. “Yeah. Not bad if you ask me. Hockey is her life. I’d like to give her that back if we can.” Gloria stands up and stretches before she heads to the door. “Okay, I’m out. Let me know if you need anything. When do you start on her?”
“We started a bit yesterday. I wanted to gauge her levels. I’m going to work on her Monday through Friday. She’ll be my last patient of the day. If she can get here early, maybe I can squeeze some aqua therapy in. I trust she can swim.”
“I’m sure she does. Ice, water. It’s all the same,” she says. She winks at me as she leaves my office.
I Google Stone’s name and am floored by all of the articles that pop up. Tons about her successes, very few about her failures. I had no idea she is this popular. Actually, I hadn’t given women’s ice hockey a single thought before yesterday. I know soccer has blossomed in women’s sports, but who knew about hockey? I hit the images tab and am instantly struck by those gorgeous sapphire eyes from thumbnail photos on the page. Her hairstyle has changed so much over the years. It was long, then short, then really short. I like the shaggy, messy style she has now. I read a few articles and am impressed that she went to Dartmouth. There are several interviews on YouTube and I pull up a few. She’s passionate, friendly, and makes every single interviewer blush. The camera loves her. I shake my head and roll my eyes at her blatant flirting. I did get a glimpse of it yesterday for about two seconds, but mostly I was introduced to the brooding, sulking lesbian who believes this is the worst thing to ever happen to anybody ever. I pull her file and make a few notes. I’m interrupted when Tina intercoms me.
“Alaina’s here,” she says. I glance at the clock. I push back from the desk and slip my shoes back on. I stop in front of the reception area and grab the top envelope from the stack already piled on Tina’s desk.
“Your handwriting is gorgeous. Thanks for helping me.”
Tina smiles. “Thank you for giving me something fun to do. This is so cool. I’m so happy for you.”
I think I’m the only lesbian she knows. She hasn’t even met Alison yet.
I beeline it to therapy room A, which is for infants through elementary school age children. I smile when I see my tiny patient already playing with blocks.
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