Page 26 of No Pucks

Krista: Whatever. I’ll be there in five.

I exhale and lean against the building, taking some of the pressure off my leg.

A car pulls up and the window rolls down.

“Come on!” Krista yells from inside.

I shove off the wall, grinding my teeth as I put weight on my leg. Pain takes my breath away for a minute, but I push through it. One foot in front of the other. I get to the car and groan as I sink into a seat.

“Your walking looks like shit. Have you been using your cane?”

“Don’t fucking start.”

“I’ll take that as a no.”

“Where are we going? I need that drink now.” I breathe through the lingering pain as the car pulls back into traffic.

“It’s not far.” She doesn’t say more, and I’m thankful.

We get out, and I shuffle myself inside and into a booth, digging in my pocket for a pill bottle. I pop one and swallow it dry.

Krista snags the bottle from my hand, examining it. She hands it back without a word.

“Go ahead.”

She shakes her head.

I narrow my eyes. “Out with it.”

“Is that enough?”

“It’s fine…mostly. I can’t be high or foggy?—”

She cuts me off. “When pain meds are doing their job, you’re not going to be high. You’re not abusing them. You need them. You can do your job with the right pain management.”

“I don’t want a bunch of addictive shit, okay?” I’ve seen it happen to too many former players. “I’m barely forty. If I start now?—”

She cuts me off again. “If you don’t manage it, your quality of life is going to decline. And you need to walk with your damn cane so you don’t get this bad.”

I wave her off. “What are we drinking?”

She sits back and crosses her arms. “Something strong.”

“Bad day?” I ask, trying to move the conversation off me.

“I just got off a twenty-four-hour shift with an arrogant new doctor.” Her gaze flicks to the ceiling. “I refuse to focus on him.”

“Arrogant good or arrogant bad?”

She scoffs and fixes me in a stare. “I have sworn off men, so bad.”

I give her a knowing look. “I’ve heard that before.”

“My last husband was a mistake.”

“And the one before that?” I ask playfully.

She holds up her middle finger and then grabs a menu. “I have to be back at the hospital in ten hours. We need to drink fast so I can sleep.” She flags down a waitress and orders us a couple of bourbons.

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