We shake hands and he turns to Sage before I can introduce her as my girlfriend and introduces himself.
“So, what can I do for you today?”
“As I’m sure you’ve heard, I experienced some head trauma a few weeks back. At the time, the doctor told me I would never play again.”
He rifles through my reports while leaning back in his chair. “I don’t see any signs of a skull fracture in these scans. Did they say there was one?”
“They were worried I suffered from one in the beginning, but the scans do not show anything that would suggest that there was any fracture at all.”
“That’s good. Go on.”
“Well, since the concussion was severe, the doctors feel that another head injury could cause serious brain damage. They recommended to the team and myself that I do not play professionally anymore. The risks are too great.”
Dr. Lukes purses his lips as he turns over the last page of the file. “Hogwash.”
I blink. “Pardon?”
“That’s hogwash. The chances of you getting hit in the first place were pretty slim. The chances of you getting hit again are nearly impossible.”
I point to Sage. “That’s what she said.”
He nods. “Well, she’s right.” Then, he leans forward. “Look. I would like to do my own tests and scans, but if you’re telling me that the reason you’re not playing is because some doctordoesn’t like the odds, then that’s not good enough. If you’re willing to work hard to get back into playing shape, we can work on your reflexes and get you some equipment that will protect your head even if the odds are not in your favor.”
Sage sits up. “What sort of protective gear?”
“There are already pitching caps that come with added padding for protection, but I’m developing a new cap that comes down a bit lower and the protection isn’t just padding; it’s a lightweight steel.”
“Really?” I had heard of the padded caps but nothing like this. “Can I try it on?”
Dr. Lukes grins. “I thought you’d never ask.” He stands up from his desk. “Give me a second.” Then he calls for his receptionist, and she returns a few minutes later with a black baseball cap. “Mind you, this is only a prototype for now.”
He hands me the cap, and I place it on my head, shimming it left and right. It’s a little tight, and definitely stiff, but not uncomfortable. “Not bad,” I say, playing around with it.
“We’re still working on the final touches, and I’d love to get your input for that. If you’re willing to work with us, we will do whatever we can to get you back on the mound. What do you say?”
A knot forms in my throat, and I cough to clear it. “Um… yes. I’d like that.”
Dr. Lukes smiles and folds his arms across his chest. “Well, then. Let’s get to work.”
25
Casey
Two weeks later, the bed sheet next to me is cold and I can’t smell Sage’s lavender essential oil. I turn over and see the crumpled comforter thrown over and the bed empty. I slept like a dead man last night. I don’t think I rolled over even once. I remember my head hitting the pillow and waking up. That’s it.
As I rub the sleep from my eyes, I stagger toward the living room. The balcony door is open and a warm breeze wafts through as I walk in. I start at the sound of a windchime. I don’t recall ever hanging one on my balcony, but there it is.
And there she is.
The sight freezes me in place. Sage is on all fours, her bottom pressed back, and she’s staring up at the ceiling. Then she arches her back and drops her head to her chest. She does this a couple more times before she notices me. “Oh, hey,” she says with a smile. “You’re up.”
“Yep.” In more ways than she knows.
“I hope I didn’t wake you. I couldn’t sleep so I came here.”
Walking closer to her, I fight the urge to drop down next to her and pull her on top of me. But instead, I ask, “When did I get a windchime?”
She smiles as she looks up at the whimsical decor. “I saw it the other day when I went for a walk. I couldn’t resist. Do you hate it?”
