The Playmaker (Fire on Ice) (12 page)

I narrowed my eyes. “You never have early class.”

She gave an exaggerated yawn. “I’m just really tired.”

“I know you all just want to give me privacy to phone Kian,” I said.

My parents looked guilty. My sister just smiled. “I thought I was a better actress than that,” she said.

“We don’t want to push you,” my mom added. “But maybe you need some time
alone to think about it.”

I didn’t want to tell her the last thing I wanted was to be alone. When I was alone, terror had an opportunity to creep back into my psyche. When I was alone, my body betrayed me. Sometimes, I was so completely overcome with anxiety, I could barely breathe. Other times, I started sobbing uncontrollably and I didn’t feel like it would ever stop.

But I didn’t want to be a burden on my family, so I just nodded and tried my best to put on a brave face, even though inside I felt fractured and weak. I had no idea how I was ever going to put the pieces of myself back together again.

Perhaps this time I was damaged beyond repair. I wasn’t sure Kian knew what he was actually getting when he said he loved me. I know he loved the Taylor I once was. I had no idea what he’d think about the fractured desolate Taylor I had become.

After my parents and sister left, I grabbed my phone from the nightstand and stared at it for what seemed like an eternity. I had a difficult time maintaining focus. It was not something I was used to. People always commented about how focused I was, and how driven. That was the B.C. (Before Crisis) Taylor. That person didn’t seem to exist anymore. The problem was that I didn’t have anyone to replace her with. The A.D. (After Disaster) Taylor was still too shattered.

Kian went to a lot of trouble to make a commercial for me and to make sure I saw it. I knew I owed him a thank you.

I dialed his number.

Thirteen

Kian

I picked up on the first ring. I knew exactly when the co
mmercial would be airing and I was holding my cell phone hoping that Taylor would call.

“Hi,” I said carefully. I was dying to hear her voice.

“Hi,” she replied. Her voice was so soft and hollow. It broke my heart that she sounded so broken.

“I’m glad you called.”

“I saw the commercial. Thank you.”

“I’m glad you liked it.”

“I bet it cost a lot more than filling my apartment with flowers.”

“A sizeable donation to the school’s hockey team. It was worth every penny because you phoned and I’m talking to you. I would have paid my salary for the entire year just to hear your voice again.”

There was silence until she finally said, “I’m not sure hearing my voice is worth your big time NHL salary.”

“You’re right,” I replied more quickly than I expected. “It’s worth much more.”

“I haven’t been able to watch your games. They don’t have that station here in the hospital.”

“I’ve been playing for you and kicking some hockey ass just like you asked me to. I’ve got a new nickname.”

“No longer Mr. Fire on Ice?”

“I’ll always be Fire on Ice because I’m hot.”

That actually got a small laugh out of her and my heart skipped a few beats. A glimmer of hope returned. “It’s nice to hear you laugh again.”

“So what’s your new nickname?”

“The Playmaker.” It was a little embarrassing but I had worked hard for it.

“You must be doing well.”

“Will you come to see me play?” As soon as the question came out of my mouth, I regretted it. I thought it was too soon and the silence at the end of the line confirmed my suspicion. “When you’re ready,” I added quickly. “I can get you an open ticket for a flight. You can use it whenever you want. I’ll get one for your sister, too, so you don’t have to come alone.” The only way I was able to get her to come see me play the first time was to offer her two tickets to my game, and she brought her sister with her. Maybe it would work again.

“I’ll think about it,” she replied.
At least she didn’t say no
.

I wanted to ask if I could see her, if she was ready to see me, but I was afraid. I didn’t want her to say no, especially when we were just beginning to reconnect. Maybe a back door approach would work?

“I have something to tell you.”

Silence again. Maybe I was making a mistake. Was it too late to take it back? “What?” she asked so softly I could barely hear her. I had never wished it before but I really wished at that moment that I could have read her mind.

“He sent me a photo.”

“Who?” I could hear the anxiety in her voice.
Bringing up the photo was a mistake
.

“I just wanted you to know that I saw you. He took your pi
cture after…” I couldn’t finish the sentence because a lump formed in my throat and I couldn’t seem to get rid of it.

“You saw me?” It didn’t seem like a question but I responded anyway.

“Yes, I saw you after—he—attacked you.”

I could hear Taylor sobbing.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have told you.”

“No!” She was adamant. “I need to hear it. I need to hear everything.”

“When I saw the photo, I nearly passed out. I never felt so helpless in my entire life. And I couldn’t forgive myself for not being there to protect you.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I still feel like I let you down.”

She was quiet again so I just waited. “I feel like I let you down, too.”

“Why?” That didn’t make sense to me.

“I shouldn’t have been walking alone. You told me not to. You told me to always have my sister or Kyle with me.”

“It’s not your fault either. You didn’t do anything wrong and you didn’t let me down. There’s only one person to blame and that’s the sick fuck who did it to you.”

I could feel the rage building inside me. It was a feeling I was trying so hard to keep under control but with each passing day, it was becoming harder. I wanted to fucking kill that son of a bitch.

“Maybe you can visit when I’m released from the hospital,” she offered.

A wave of instant relief washed away the rage and my gli
mmer of hope was now transformed into a full ray.

“Let me know when you’re ready. I’ll jump on a plane the minute you say you want to see me.”

“I didn’t want to burden you…”

“What do you think love is, Taylor? It’s not just about the good times. It’s about sticking with the person through the bad times to. For better or worse. Isn’t that the vow people take when they get married?”

“But we’re not married,” she replied.

“You’re
my everything, married or not. You’re saying if my ring was on your finger, we wouldn’t be having this conversation?”

“I don’t know…”

“Let me ask you this. If I was injured on the ice. Something really bad. A career-ending injury. And I was in the hospital. What would you do?”

“That’s a stupid question.”

“Why?”

“Of course I would be at the hospital with you. I wouldn’t want you to be alone.”

“Can’t you see that’s exactly what I want? I just want to be there for you.”

I could hear her sobbing again so I waited. “I’m sorry,” she said finally.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about. I just want you to know how I feel. I also want you to know that I love you and I want you to understand what that means. It means I love you no matter what. For better or worse. Wedding vows or not.”

“They’re supposed to release me in a few days.”

I wondered if that meant she was considering letting me visit in a few days. This was one time I didn’t want to try to read between the lines. I needed her to tell me exactly what she meant.

“You’ll let me know when you’re ready to see
me.”

“Yes.”

My heart was now dancing with hope. “Can I phone you tomorrow?”

“Okay.”

“I miss talking to you every day.”

“I miss it, too.”

“I love you, Princess.”

“I love you, too.”

She said she loved me.
She still loved me
. Hope was radiating all around me.

When I talked to Taylor the following day, she told me they were releasing her in the morning. She said she had to get settled into her sister’s place because she was giving up her apartment. She didn’t want to be alone and her family agreed. She needed the support of her loved ones while she took time to heal.

I wanted to be one of those loved ones who she turned to for support.

“Maybe you can fly out the following week?” she suggested.

We had a two day break between games. I just needed to book a flight. “Just tell me where your sister lives. I’ll be there.”

Fourteen

Taylor

I never thought I’d be one to say that I didn’t want to leave the hospital but once I was discharged, I panicked. After a week, I had gotten used to being there. It had become my new normal. I had developed a routine and I felt safe. Protected. I had been in a sterile white cocoon and n
ow I was expected to breakout of it and fly away even though I was far from turning into a butterfly.

The outside world felt scary. Unpredictable. Unsafe. I felt like anyone at any moment could attack me
—
that I was a walking target. I was glad that my mom, dad and my sister all agreed to be there when I took my first steps back outside.

I tried to breathe in the fresh winter air but my lungs tigh
tened and I was gripped with fear. I could feel my heart racing and I just needed to be inside somewhere, anywhere. The outdoors felt too big and I felt too vulnerable to be there. I needed to feel enclosed and secure.

“Car?” I managed to say.

My dad pointed to his white Honda Accord near the middle of the parking lot and I practically ran to his vehicle. My family members did their best to keep up with me.

***

There was no other way to describe Zelda’s place but a dump. Even though we both attended the same university, we never entertained the idea of living together. Mainly because I cared about cleanliness and she didn’t know the concept existed.

My studio apartment was
in
off-campus housing, so my parents made all the necessary phone calls to get out of my lease. I was grateful. Not only couldn’t I imagine living alone in my current emotional state but I also couldn’t fathom having to walk anywhere near the alley where I was attacked. Unfortunately, it was right near my apartment.

My family packed all of my stuff and it was already moved into my sister’s place. The already
-cramped space now looked like it was bursting at the seams.

“Cozy,” my sister said as the four of us stood in the living room. She had a small living area, a kitchenette, one bathroom and one bedroom we’d now be sharing. Good thing she had a King size bed.

It’s only for a semester
, I reminded myself as I scanned the living area. She had stacks of books, mostly play scripts, and papers everywhere. Even some of her stacks had their own stacks.

As I glanced into the kitchenette, I noticed the sink was stacked with dirty dishes and the counter had opened jars of peanut butter, jelly
, pickles and cookies strewn about. My hands actually started to itch and I had the desire to start cleaning the place. I didn’t even want to see what the bathroom looked like.

“We put all your stuff in the corner
.” My dad pointed to a pile of boxes in the far corner of the room.

“Maybe when the place gets cleaned up a bit, you can u
npack,” my mom suggested.

My sister frowned. “I cleaned this morning.”

“What part?” my mom asked.

“All of it,” my sister barked.

When my mom glanced at my dad, he just shrugged.

“I’m sure everything will be fine,” my mom
soothed. It made me wonder who she was trying to convince. I didn’t think anything would ever be fine again.

“We’ll leave you girls to it,” my dad said as he and my mom prepared to leave.

When they both hugged me, I tried not to flinch but it was difficult. I could feel my entire body tense and I just wanted the usually loving gesture to be over. 

When I looked into my mom’s eyes, I could see she was tr
ying to blink back tears. “We’ll phone tomorrow to see how you’re doing.”

I nodded and my parents disappeared out the front door.

***

The scars on my face healed except for a tiny line on my bo
ttom lip. My sister told me it wasn’t noticeable and she was probably right but it was difficult for me to tell. I still felt deeply wounded. But those scars were internal and would apparently take a lot longer to heal. How long would it take to mend the shattered trust in my life? How long would it take to regain one’s strength and sense of self after being traumatized? How long would it take to feel normal again or was
that even possible?

No one had answers to those questions. 

My counselor told me there was a trajectory that many people followed after trauma but cautioned that everyone was different and healing is different for each person.

The other people in my life wanted to forget about the inc
ident and move on. Not that I could blame them. They wanted their lives to go back to normal as quickly as possible. Their lives could go back to normal. I just didn’t know if mine ever would. I knew I had to
move on
too but
forgetting
didn’t seem like an option. I was learning to live with it. Trying to integrate what had happened to me into my new normal.

Every day seemed to bring new challenges, some small vict
ories and nearly as many setbacks.

It didn’t take long for me to develop a routine. Getting up and making breakfast for me and my sister. Cleaning and straightening the small apartment. Studying for a few hours until I lost focus and my mind started wandering. Fixing lunch. Studying a few hours more. Helping my sister cook dinner. My day always ended with a phone call from Kian.

I hadn’t seen him since his Christmas visit and I knew he was getting anxious to see me again. I had to admit that I wanted to see him just as much. The only problem was that he wanted me to watch him play hockey. I guess I was just afraid to venture too far from home.

Zelda
walked me to my weekly therapy sessions, which were just on the other side of campus. I hadn’t ventured to the survivors of sexual assault group yet. Maybe it was because I didn’t feel like I was a
survivor
of anything. I felt like I was just existing.

I thought about the self-defense class but I hadn’t developed the strength or courage to get there yet. I still couldn’t imagine myself walking in the door. My counselor said that the class was for all ages and skill levels and that you didn’t have to be athletic to do well in the class. Of course, she didn’t know exactly how non-athletic I actually was or she may have changed her tune.

There were also places I completely avoided most of which were near my old apartment and the alley. I knew eventually I’d have to face my worst fears and go back there. I knew I’d have to stand in that alleyway and reclaim what had been taken from me. I just didn’t feel ready for it.

Going to the airport, getting on a plane, traveling out of state, staying in a hotel, being in a packed stadium with thousands of people—all of those things felt insurmountable. But they were necessary if I wanted to see Kian play hockey.

“Spring Break,” my sister said to me one evening while we were eating stir fry. It was a new recipe I’d found on the internet when I was completely distracted and couldn’t concentrate on my schoolwork.

I frowned. “What are you talking about?” I couldn’t imagine she was talking about going to the beach and partying like so many students our age traditionally did. Not exactly the atmo
sphere conducive to healing from sexual trauma.

“I think we need to set a goal.”

I laughed. I knew she didn’t mean it to be funny but it just struck me that way. She never had a goal in her life and every goal I had seemed to have been washed away when I was victimized.

“I’m serious.” She actually pouted.

I straightened my face. “I’m sorry. What’s the goal we need to set?”

“You and I should go to see a hockey game for Spring Break.”

I could feel anxiety begin to take hold of me. I tried to take in a few calming breaths and think about things that made me feel calm. Like being in the cabin in the woods in Kian’s strong arms. I always went back to that memory. It seemed to be the last happy memory I had.

“I’m not sure,” I lied. I was pretty sure I wasn’t going. The idea terrified me.
“I’ll have to see if Kian’s even going to be playing at home that week and if he’ll want us there.”

My sister crossed her arms over her chest. “Are you kidding me? You know damn well that Kian is playing. You memorized his hockey schedule when you were avoiding doing school work. At least be honest and say it scares the shit out of you.”

“Fine, it scares the shit out of me. Are you happy now?”

“I’m happy that you’re being honest but I’m not happy that it scares the shit out of you.”

I nodded.

“You know, I heard this saying:
Feel the fear and do it anyway
. I think it applies here.”

“It’s the title of a self-help book by Susan Jeffers but that’s beside the point.”

“Is it really beside the point? I think it is the point. I think it’s time to take your training wheels away and see if you can ride the bike.”

“You’re on a roll with the sayings and metaphors by the way.”

“I’ll be there with you every minute. Well, except when you’re with Kian. That would just be weird.”

“Says the girl who has no issue being with two guys at the same time.”

“That’s different. You’re my sister and he’s like my brother. Yuck.”

“I’ll think about it.”

She glared at me. “I
really
want you to think about it.”

“I
really
will.”