Page 48 of Stumped

“Don’t you have a match on Sunday?”

Shrugging, I sit down beside her. “I’ll find a way to sneak out.”

“You most certainly will not.” She shakes her head and I sigh. “We can do dessert when you get here after.”

“Fine.”

Vera pokes me in the side and I laugh, grabbing her wrist to stop further attacks. She tucks herself into my side and rattles off dinner options, but I’m not listening. I’ll eat sand if it means being with her.Pathetic, I know.

I’mup before she is and despite her attempts to tug me back into bed, I kiss her forehead and leave. I thought I’d have a few hours before we had to part for the weekend, but Coach Kumaran called to let me know I need to be at Navalur much earlier. Knowing I won’t see her until Sunday night wears on me as Kuriakose drives me to the practice grounds. I don’t know why the Renegades management puts me through this, because if I’m not playing, I can get more rest. Isn’t that what they want from me anyway?

I’m forced to sit through game tape with the team and a full breakdown of what went wrong at the Hyderabad match. They spend an hour strategising the Sunday game against the Punjab Royals andinsistI stay. Only after do I get a minute to myself and I pull my phone out as I head to the medical room. I don’t know what Dr. Theo’s going to put me through or what this meeting with Kumaran might be about, but I refuse to get my hopes up.

Have fun in Pondy.

Drive safe.

The two medical assistants are busy when I walk into the room, they offer me nervous smiles and get back to their work. I strip off my T-shirt, already aware of the process during these sessions and settle on the table as my phone buzzes.

Peaches

Moulding the minds of the future will be SO much fun.

Hope your PT is good and you’ll have the best news for me tomorrow!

Don’t jinx it.

Peaches

The door swings open and Dr. Theo walks in, grinning at the folder in his hands. From here, I can see my name printed along the tab on the side and I sit up straighter.

“I hope that means good news.”

Dr. Theo startles and laughs awkwardly. “Elias. Didn’t see you there.”

It’s tense in the room and I force a smile because that’s what everyone else is doing. An assistant comes over to take my shirt and phone as Dr. Theo pulls on his gloves. My heart is racing, because something tells me they’re about to deliver not so good news. Once everything is prepped, the doctor examines my shoulder—poking, prodding, twisting, pinching, rubbing and rotating—until he’s satisfied with what he feels. The first few times he did this after my surgery, I would end the session in tears. He’s not doing ittohurt me, but holy fuck it was excruciating. Now I glower at him because the pain comes from himpokingme. When he’s done, he laughs at my expressions and gestures for his assistant to add the cool ointment. They massage it into my shoulder, taking their time pressing every inch of skin around the scar.

“How’s the day-to-day pain?”

“Haven’t experienced any more spasms recently.”

He watches me with an arched eyebrow, so I rotate my arm both ways and twist it until he’s happy. He makes a note of it in my folder that’s so thick, it’s bursting at the seams.

“Mobility seems good. Let’s do a scan,” he tells his assistants and they bring the portable x-ray machine over. I’ve been doing this once a month for the last year, so I close my eyes and let them move me around to do what needs to be done.

“What do you think, Doc? Playing this season or not?”

Dr. Theo laughs, sheepish like always, and shrugs as he examines the screen with my scan results. He’s damn good at what he does, but the older gentleman also gets nervous when I put him on the spot like this. And I’ve been asking him the same question since the beginning. When I missed the World Cup, he kept apologising but it wasn’t his fault. This injury was entirely on me and everything that followed is only in my hands. He knows how desperately I want to get back on the pitch, how much the team needs me back. But there’s only so much he can do.

“Do you think you’re ready to play, Elias?”

“Obviously. I wouldn’t ask otherwise.”

“You haven’t practised in six months,” he reminds me and I sigh.

“Because you wouldn’t let me leave this room.”

“Because you were healing.”

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