With incredible focus, he manages to take perhaps five or six small steps, moving forward no more than a total of a few feet before he starts to sag. With efficiency, the therapist at his rear brings a wheelchair and they gently lower him while disengaging the harness straps.
I start a slow clap of appreciation as I walk toward Baden. His neck twists and he grins when he sees me.
“Someone’s ready to get back on the ice,” I say as I meet up with his wheelchair on the other side of the parallel bars.
Some might think that insensitive, since chances are Baden will never step foot on the ice again, but I’ve come to know him well over the last year and a half.
Even better since his injury and all the visits I’ve made to him in the hospital, and now the rehab center.
Baden is at a place where we can add levity, tinged with hopefulness, to the conversation. While he was doing chest presses in the hospital gym the other day, he told me with a sly grin that he was thinking of giving up being a goalie to become a right-winger like me. Preposterous, even when he was in optimal health, and we had a good laugh.
Wiping the sweat off his head, he replies, “Slap some skates on me. I’m ready.”
Baden gives a nod to his therapists, a silent thank you for their work, and turns the wheelchair toward me. He’s become adept at moving around in it, and has taken to cutting wheelies in the hallway, sometimes catching me in the shin with the footrest.
To which he just laughs and laughs.
Yeah… there’s been a huge change in Baden’s spirits since the feeling returned to his legs. I’m not sure if he cares about playing again—which is the longest of long shots—but is overjoyed at the potential to walk.
We chat about last night’s game against the Houston Jam, a seven to two route that almost made me feel bad for the other team.
Almost.
I only had an assist, but it was a damn good one that set up Kane for an unbelievable deke, followed by a backhanded shot for a goal. As a goalie, Baden agrees it was practically unstoppable.
“How was the birthday party?” Baden asks good-naturedly as he turns into his room.
“Good,” I reply, thinking back to the low-key affair the night before last with Kane, Jim, and Bain at the Sneaky Saguaro. Dinner and beers to celebrate me turning twenty-six.
Bain and I flirted with the waitresses in skimpy outfits, but for the most part… it was about hanging with my linemates. Normally Baden would have been there, but he passed, not wanting to go out in public in his wheelchair, which I understood.
Riggs, one of our defensemen, couldn’t come because his sister had a school project he had to help with. At least, that was his excuse. I’m not quite sure what’s true. We still know next to nothing about the man and why he’s guardian to his seventeen-year-old sister.
My eyes go to the large plant in his window, with vines dripping over the edge and trailing on the floor. “I see your hero plant is doing well.”
Baden snorts. He complains about that damn thing and having to take care of it every time I come, but he must enjoy doing it because the thing is thriving. It was given to him by the woman whose life he saved. I’d think it would be a bad reminder of his injuries, but I guess he chooses to look at the gratitude it represents. Regardless, he doesn’t say much about the incident at all, and the men who attacked the two of them have never been found. I suspect it’s hard to get closure with that hanging over your head.
Baden doesn’t bother transferring out of his wheelchair onto his bed or one of the two deep-cushioned chairs set by the window. He merely turns his wheelchair toward the chair I take and latches the brake, slouching down comfortably.
“Give me the thirty-second update on everyone,” he demands.
There’s no need to talk specifics on stats. Baden has been following our games diligently because he’s still a member of this team.
No… Baden is talking personal.
Gossip.
“Hmmm,” I say, lifting my eyes briefly to the ceiling to ponder. “Jim and Ella have fully reconciled.”
“Excellent,” Baden says with a nod, motioning with his hand to continue.
I fill him in on the others. Blue and Erik are due to have their baby next month and Erik is having mini panic attacks when we travel for away games. We laugh over the fact that Kane is actively participating in planning his wedding to Mollie and seems to enjoy looking at flowers and venues, something the guys all give him shit for.
“Looks like Dominik and Willow are going to adopt Dillon,” I tell Baden.