But the thing about hockey injuries is that sometimes they’re serious. And mostly when people have injuries they are able to move.
He probably has a concussion. He’s probably up and talking to the doctor and insisting on going back on the ice.
He was playing amazingly, after all.
I try not to think about the fact that concussions can lead to terrible things. Like increased risk of dementia. And the fact that some people who get hit on the head might just not?—
I shake my head. No. My mind is not going there.
No way.
The mood is subdued at the arena the next morning. The security guard doesn’t flash his normal gruff smile, and everyone’s eyes are round and worried.
There’s no news. We all ask, but no one knows anything.
Axel comes for his massage appointment, but he’s less talkative than normal. I find myself telling him about the manifestation book that my sister gave me, which makes him laugh, but the sound is forced.
After he leaves, Coach stops by the massage room, even though he rarely does that.
“How is Florian?” I ask.
Coach gives the sort of lengthy sigh that means he has no good news. “He hasn’t woken up.”
My breath halts.
“But he will, right?”
“We’ll see. I informed his parents. They’re flying in from Germany.” Coach hesitates. “I’m going to visit him in the hospital before our flight to Montreal. I’ll get more information there.”
I want to tell Coach to tell Florian ‘hi’ if he wakes up, but knowing Florian, he wouldn’t respond well to that.
“Hopefully you get good news,” I say instead.
“Thank you, Mateo. I appreciate that.”
Coach leaves, his face paler than it should be, even for a man of Swedish heritage who spends most of his time in the Blizzards arena rather than capturing the few opportunities for Vitamin D gain that Boston provides.
I sigh.
He’ll be okay, I tell myself.
But I feel uncertain all morning. The players are worried and extra tense today, and I work hard to ease their tension, even though all of us know the one thing that would make them feel better is knowing that Florian has woken up.
All of them know they could have been in Florian’s position. All of them are reminded that the job they have, despite its good pay, despite its adulations, is dangerous.
There’s a chance Florian might never wake up.
I hate that chance.
Finally, Coach enters the massage room.
“Did you get any news?” I ask.
“They’re hoping he’ll wake up soon. They can’t sayfor sure.”
“Right.”
Coach shifts his legs, then scratches the back of his neck. He behaves in a way that he rarely behaves.
