Page 71 of Out Of Time

Fuck,Max thought, feeling disappointed about his start in front of the net for the first time in his career. “Right on, Coach.”

“And Miller, so help me God, if you ever tell me you can’t fucking focus again over a goddamn migraine when we have a team doctor, I’ll pull Brody up from the minors to fill your spot so fast you'll get whiplash. I’m not missing the playoffs this year. Not with this team. Get your shit together and come back tomorrow ready. You get the start, don't make me regret it. We got one last game before the holiday break, and we’re fucking winning it.”

“Got it,” Max said. Heading to the locker room, he heard Coach mumble,“Says he took fucking Tylenol,”under his breath, and Max knew his time was up. Whether he owned up to it, saw the doctor, and got the diagnosis on paper or not—he was done for.

Remi pulled up to Lighthouse Rehabilitation after she finished cleaning her last house of the day. It was only a half-hour drive from Max’s house and forty minutes from her place, which was important to know now that Max had taken to staying with her more nights than not. It amazed her really, that he could have the best house in San Clemente, and yet he chose her little nugget of space to be at. He said he liked that it felt lived-in and safe; it felt like home. She loved that she felt like home to him because he felt like home to her too.

Today was his last practice, tomorrow would be his last game before the holiday break, and she couldn't wait to spend that time with him.

Looking back on it, Remi had seen Max’s eyesight fade since they started seeing each other, since that first day; the boxers, the shattered lamp, the donuts, and the hummus. The night swim, Halloween, and cat jokes into the late hours of the night. Since making out in dark closets and making love in bright bedrooms, she had seen his vision slip. She had watched the struggle, the panic and the uncertainty wash over him. Hewas really good at faking it most days, but sometimes his fears showed in his panicked blinking, the way his hands braced for impact, and the way his breathing grew heavy. Some days he drank too much, and she drank with him. Some days he wouldn’t leave the house with her, so they snuggled up and asked all the questions that came to mind.

“Have you ever been in love?”he had asked.

“No. You?”she said.

“With a girl, Allison, in a billet home. Her brother found out and beat me up. That sort of ended it,”he had said.

“Beatyouup?”she asked.

“Well, I didn’t fight back.”

Even the more difficult questions had come up.

“Do you sleep with hockey fans?”she asked.

“No… yes… sometimes… not much,”he stuttered.

“So, you do, or you don’t?”

“I have, but I didn’t like it. I never knew how to initiate it. I’m not great with…”

“Words, yeah, so you've told me.”

He went on,“I want you to know I don't have any STDs or anything. I get checked, I get physicals and stuff.”

“I don't either. I don’t sleep around much. I have, in the past. But not since my business took off,”she assured him, and it was a good thing to establish since they had taken up the bad habit of not using protection in the heat of the moment, as dummies in love often do.

“I kind of want to fuck you right meow,”he said, with a straight face, cat joke and all.

“Max Miller,”she had purred.“Bad kitty,”she said, pouncing on him playfully.

Some days, he simply handed over the keys and let her drive until they both grew too tired to drive anymore.

That was why she was here, at Lighthouse, one of the best rehabilitation programs in all of Southern California. She wanted to educate herself, so that when Max was ready, she would already know each step he needed to take. She would have the answers to his questions, the guidebooks on her shelves, the technology at her fingertips, and the apps on her phone. She wanted to be ready, so when he said go, she could take his hand and walk him through the biggest life change anyone could ever experience. A lifetime of vision, replaced by a future without it—it wouldn't be easy, but she wouldn't let him fail.

When she entered the facility, the door chimed, and she was greeted by a young woman who found her way to Remi with the help of a guide dog. Remi hadn’t even considered a guide dog as an option, but now that she saw the woman with the beautiful golden retriever at her side, she couldn’t help but feel an inkling of hope surrounding all of this.

“Hello, I’m Nicole, and this is Shepard,” the young woman said, holding out a hand to shake.

“Hi, I’m Remi. Thanks for squeezing me in today.”

“No problem. I’m happy you reached out.”

The dog, Shepard, looked up at Remi, his eyes oddly human. “Can I pet him?”

“Absolutely. Shep loves a good head scratch from new friends.”

Remi leaned down to pet the beautiful, well-mannered guide dog. “How long does it take to train them to behave like this?”

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