Page 72 of Out Of Time

“Why don’t we let him guide us around the facility as I answer all of your questions; he loves to give tours.”

Remi smiled, hope filling her heart as Shepard led them through the building with confidence. This looked like a life that had promise—a future that had meaning. She saw a life where everything was going to be okay.

“So,” Nicole started, “Shepard was selected to be a guide dog as a puppy. He went through assessments and once he passed all of them, he began to train. He is my second guide dog since I lost my vision at fourteen to a condition called Stargardt disease. It was something we saw coming on, no pun intended, so my mother started preparing me for a life with vision loss right away, including getting me my first guide dog, Wendy, when I was seventeen, and now I have Shep. He’s the best boy.” She leaned down to pet the dog, whose tail began to wag excitedly. “Aren’t you the best boy?” she asked, and the dog knew he was, in fact, the best boy.

Shepard led Remi and Nicole with ease and confidence through the facility while Nicole explained what the facility offered: training, classes, technology, community, and counseling. All things both she and Max would need to navigate their future together.

The tour ended with the two of them in Nicole’s office, where Remi found a folder with all the information she could possibly need about Lighthouse sitting on Nicole’s desk.

“Can I ask you something a little more personal?” Remi said, taking a seat across from Nicole.

“Ask away. Part of my job is being an open book.”

“How hard was it for you? Losing your vision after having experienced life with it?”

Nicole took a treat from the glass jar on her desk and handed it to Shepard who happily took it to his dog bed nearby.

“That’s a good question, and I’ll answer it as honestly as I can, but take into consideration that everyone’s experience is different. I lost my vision at an early age, so there were many different emotions involved. I was mad as hell, because why me, ya know? I was depressed. I was also motivated to not let it ruin my life or stop me from living. I was scared, as anyone would be, and all of these emotions hit me at separate times. Somedays were good, and some days I wouldn’t leave my room. But I had a good support system; I had loving parents who would stop at nothing to accommodate my disability. The second we knew what my future looked like having Stargardt, I started therapy, which I strongly recommend for your friend. I attended a facility similar to this and started to just prepare myself as best I could.”

“My boyfriend,” Remi started, “he’s got a pretty specific job.”

“Okay, there might be a way to navigate his career with his vision loss. Being blind isn’t always a career-ending disability.”

Remi wished Nicole was right, but she knew there was no saving Max’s spot on the team roster, not even with all the rehabilitation and preparation for what came next in the world.

“It will though,” Remi stated. “This will absolutely end his career.”

“Okay, do you want to share? I would love to talk through some options, and if there are none, and you think losing his career to vision loss will be hard on him, I can send you home with resources, and numbers for therapists that can be on call, for when he’s ready.”

Remi looked over at Shepard, happily gnawing on his treat. She looked around the facility and saw happy faces, kids smiling; people learning how to live happily while being blind. But they weren’t NHL goalies. She almost wished Max never knew what it felt like to be in his position, just to save him from the hurt he was going to experience, no doubt, once it was gone.

“Do you want to share? Or would you rather he shares when he comes to visit?”

“It’s just, no one knows yet,” she said, not wanting to blow his cover before he got the chance to tell his team.

“Ah, yes. He might need some time to wrap his head around it before he can admit it to others, let alone himself.”

Remi couldn’t agree more, only, she didn’t know how much longer he would have before he was forced to tell his team, essentially ending his spot in front of the net with the Condors. Two major losses in one year would be hard, and she realized she was terrified of what this looked like for Max, the man she loved.

Max had somehow made it into December without hurting himself or his teammates while on the ice. Each game felt harder than the last, and now it was his last game before the holiday break, before quality time with Remi, the woman he loved, who he had somehow convinced to love him back. He had never been so excited for a break from hockey.

It all felttooheavy, each game, each puck drop, each save.

But something about tonight felt different.

He took his spot in front of the net knowing he didn't deserve it. Not with Brown on the bench, healthy, and fully aware of what Max was up against. The lights went down as the Canadian anthem was sung, and then the national anthem came next.

Max kept his eyes on the ice below him. It was dark in the arena, darker than normal. Shifting on his skates, his knees felt weak, and his heart began to race.

Don’t panic, the lights will be up soon, he told himself.

Don’t panic, you’ve been playing like this all season.

Don’t panic, you still have a few more games in you.

The lights came up and the crowd cheered. The puck was dropped, but his vision did not recover.

Max blinked. That was the trick, right? He blinked again, no improvement.

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