Coach Me

“Well, Torres, maybe you should stay off the trails and keep it on the track, huh? The last thing we need are injured athletes. You’re lucky Lakes isn’t in season yet.” Veronika walks over to a cabinet and takes down some painkillers. She picks up a water bottle from the pack next to the cabinet and hands it to Amber. “Take these,” she says, dumping the pills in Amber’s hand. “You won’t be able to practice for about a week or so, give or take. It depends on how you recover and how the pain is. It looks like a minor sprain, but to be safe, I want you to take the rest of the week off from practice.”

Amber nods, popping the pills into her mouth and then cracking the bottle of water open to chug it and the pills down. “How will I get around campus for my classes?” she asks, gasping after swallowing the water.

“Well, Torres can send some emails,” says Veronika. “He can let them know you’re injured and to send your work online if you don’t want to walk. Most of it is done online anyway, right? He can do that just to be on the safe side. I have some crutches around here somewhere, but I’ll have to find them. I can have one of your teammates bring them to you when I do.”

Amber nods, and I notice tears in her eyes again. She blinks them away and then clears her throat. “How will I get to my apartment?”

“I’ll use the cart to drive you over,” I murmur.

“Kay.”

“All right, well, I want you to keep me updated on your ankle, missy! And seriously, try not to be on it too much. If it feels any worse, you go straight to a doctor. I think you’re okay for now, you just have to heal a bit and get the swelling down.” Veronika winks at Amber, as if this is some playful accident. I suppose I can’t really blame her for not taking it too seriously. She didn’t see what I saw on the trail. She didn’t see one teammate maliciously trip another. Ill intent. No remorse.

“I’m going to see if the café has any bagels,” Veronika announces, walking back to her bag. “After I get some food in my system, I’ll find the crutches and have them sent to you right away. I get really hangry in the mornings and that’s not good for anyone.” She departs with a laugh, and it’s only the two of us again.

Amber is avoiding looking at me altogether.

“You ready?” I ask.

She nods. Nothing more.

“Should I carry you or help you walk or…?” Jesus. What the hell am I even saying?

“Just help me walk,” she says, bringing her legs to the edge of the table. I lower myself enough so she can swing her arm over my shoulders and she hops down on her good foot.

She hops out the door with me to get to the cart and I don’t know why it bugs me so much to see her like this. Trying to be strong, but truly in a lot of pain. I can’t watch her struggle like this.

“I’m going to pick you up.” I don’t wait for her to protest. I pick her up in my arms and carry her to the cart, not missing the slight gasp that spills from her lips. I gently place her in the front this time, in the seat next to the wheel, and she slowly lowers her bad ankle.

As I pull away, I catch a whiff of her fruity scent. Cherries. A trace of honey. I noticed it before but was more concerned about getting her to the conditioning room. I hustle to get behind the wheel, start the cart up, and make a U-turn out of the tunnel.

The drive across campus is a quiet one. There are students already walking, heading to the café or to their classes. Some even go into the library, backpacks slung over their shoulders and coffees in hand.

In no time, I approach one of the women’s athletics apartment buildings and park the cart in an empty space close to it.

“Out of all the supplies we have for athletes, a wheelchair isn’t one of them,” I sigh.

“It’s okay, Coach Torres. I can make it up from here.”

“No the hell you can’t, Lakes.”

She lifts her chin. “I can manage.”

I start to say something else, but then someone yells, “What the hell happened to you?” Kendall Ramirez pops up and places her hands on the top of the cart, ducking down to look inside.

“Got a sprain,” Amber says, then shrugs. “Tripped and rolled it.”

“Damn. Do you need help inside?”

Amber nods. “Sure.” Then she looks at me. “Told you I can manage.”

I ignore that remark and climb out of the cart just as Kendall helps Amber step out on her good ankle. Amber buckles a bit when her rolled ankle swings out and I move quickly, catching her arm and throwing it over my shoulders. We both help her to the building.