Chapter 7: Home Game: Chapter 7

SHE LOOKED WORSE than I remembered. Her short black hair stuck to the side of her head. She was swimming in the old scrubs. Her face was a mess. The only familiar thing about her was her one blue eye that stared at me with shock, unblinking.

“Hey Zoey.’

“What are you doing here?” her voice cut.

“They found my card and called me. I figured you might need a friend.”

“We’re not friends.”

“Well, I’m here. So let me help.”

“I don’t need your help.” She enunciated each word carefully. Anyone else would be grasping, hands out, wanting to know how much I could give, but she was giving me grief for trying to help her. Part of me respected her for that. Maybe not the smartest move on her part, but this girl was more independent than anyone I had ever met.

The nurse and I exchanged a look.

Zoey glanced up at me. “What happened to your face?”

Was she for real? “Hockey.”

“What does the other guy look like?”

“I broke his nose.”

She ducked her head and wincing, half shuffled past me. The nurse watched us carefully.

I tried again. “Let me drive you somewhere.”

She took a deep slow breath. “Yeah, sure. Why not?”

She shuffle-walked ahead of me, carrying a plastic bag.

The nurse looked up at me. “She has a prescription for painkillers. Make sure she gets those filled.”

“Should I know anything?”

She shrugged. “Lots of rest and fluids.”

I caught up with Zoey and together we slowly walked out of the ER. I had no idea why I had shown up back here, but I was here and I would help her as best as I could. Maybe I could help her fill her prescription and get her some new clothes before safely delivering her to the shelter. Or if she preferred, I could put her up in a hotel for a couple weeks. That was probably the better plan.

“I’m parked over here.” I motioned towards the parking lot.

She was moving slow. I could tell by her labored breath she was in a lot of pain, but other than that, she didn’t let on.

I held open the passenger door and refrained from helping her in. She gasped as she pulled herself into the seat. Pain made her face white and pinched.

I pulled out of the parking lot. “So, where do you need to go?”

“I’ll show you.”

We didn’t speak, other than her giving me the occasional direction. We pulled into an industrial part of town and then she pointed at a 24-hour diner that looked like it belonged in a horror movie. Food poisoning or Hepatitis B guaranteed with your meal.

“Can you pull around back?”

I did as she directed and put the vehicle in park. “Is this where you work?”

She slid out of the vehicle and turned to look back at me. “Thanks for the ride.”

“I’m not going to leave you here.”

That damn blue eye just blinked at me and then she was walking gingerly across the parking lot. I watched as she slowly bent beside the steps. And then she stood up and looked around. She walked around to the other side of the steps. Then she staggered over to the garbage bin and lifted the lid. She was looking for something. Now she was frantically scouring the ground.

I got out and walked over to her.

“What are you looking for?”

“My bag. I left my bag here. And it’s gone.”

I looked around the dirty parking lot. Garbage and crap littered the ground.

“Is this where it happened?” This place was a complete dump. What had possessed her to come out here in the middle of the night? Had she been buying drugs? Is that how she got attacked? Had a drug deal gone bad?

“My bag. It was under the steps. He attacked me and I ran. I didn’t have time to get my bag,” she sounded frantic. Hobbling faster around the yard. Looking behind the garbage bin. Beneath it.

“Zoey.”

She dropped to her knees and put her face in her hands. To my utter horror, I realized that she was weeping.

“Zoey,” I knelt beside her. “Hey buddy. It’s okay. Everything in that bag can be replaced.”

“No, it can’t,” her voice was a thin sad wail.

“We can go shopping. And buy whatever you need. I can get you a better bag. More clothes. We can replace whatever you lost.”

“It had pictures of my mom and dad,” her voice sounded anguished.

Oh fuck.

She was inconsolable. She cried like her world was ending. She knelt there, holding her face in her hand, while her entire body shook with grief.

I was terrible with tears. I had no idea what to say or do. But I was a farm kid from Saskatchewan and when something was hurt, we helped. I picked her up. She felt so tiny in my arms. I carried her back to the vehicle. She curled up into a ball and her shoulders shook.

I got in beside her and drove back to my place.

The drive was silent, except for the occasional sniffle from her side of the car. Eventually, she lifted her head and looked around. “Where are we?”

“I’m taking you back to my place.”

She didn’t seem to care. She stared out the window. It felt like she had withdrawn into herself. Her fight, her feisty spirit had disappeared.

WHEN WE WALKED into my apartment, she wavered on her feet.

“Okay,” I said, “You need to sleep.”

She started towards the couch.

“Why don’t you take a nap in my bedroom.”

She was no longer on guard. She had given up. She followed me into the bedroom. I stood there and watched as she kicked off her boots and shrugged off her jacket.

“The nurse said you had a prescription?”

She crawled into my bed and curled up into a tiny little ball. “I don’t have money for it.”

I picked up her jacket. I found the script in the front pocket. “I’ll be back in time for dinner.”

She didn’t respond.

I shut the blinds and walked out.

I DROPPED the prescription off at the pharmacy and then stocked up at the grocery store next door. It dawned on me that she had nothing, so I bought her a new toothbrush.

But she had no clothes. No clean underwear. No socks. I was in over my head. I pulled out my phone, and dialed the one number I had on speed dial.

“Ryan.”

“Krista. I need your help.”

“Anything, darling.”

“I need you to buy some women’s clothing for me.”

A long pause. “Is this for a special friend?”

“It’s complicated.”

“I love complicated,” she purred. “Is she hot?”

“It’s not like that. This is just a friend who lost everything in an accident. She is staying with me for a couple days, but she doesn’t even have socks.”

Krista moved from teasing to all business. “How tall is she?”

“Short.”

“Waist size?”

“No clue. She’s tiny.”

“Breast size?”

“I don’t know. She wears baggy clothes.”

“What is her style? Does she like heels? Dresses? Saturday in the Hamptons?”

I rubbed my face. “Her arm is in a sling, so she needs stuff she doesn’t have to pull over her head. She likes plaid. Goth or punk rock?”

“Seriously?”

“Maybe a hoodie or yoga pants. Stuff she can sleep in. Just do what you can.”

“How did you say you know her?”

“I didn’t.”

“Is there anything you want to tell me?”

“No.”

“Fine. I’ll be by later and I’ll just get all the dirt then.”

“Thanks.”

TWO HOURS LATER, Krista showed up, staggering under an impossible load of bags. “I wasn’t sure of the size of your friend, so I bought things in a few sizes. Anything that doesn’t fit, she can just put aside. I kept all the receipts. Just return it to my office.”

“Thanks.”

She peered around. “So, where is she?”

“Sleeping.”

“So this is a good time to pour me a stiff drink and tell me what is going on.”

“Fine,” I said, walking towards the kitchen. “But you can’t bill me for the time you spend drinking my booze.”

“Shush,” she said. “I am cheaper than a therapist and better at it too.”

Despite myself, I laughed. “You take shameless advantage of me.”

“You used to love that about me,” she pouted.

Krista looked like a red-headed, Dita Von Teese. The rumor was that she liked to burlesque on her own time, but I didn’t ask and she never told. Today she was wearing blood red heels that matched her lipstick. Her eyes were made up as dramatic as the 50s style dress that pushed her cleavage up to her chin.

Looking at her, you would never know she was one of the best hockey agents in the business. Beneath those fake eyelashes was a shark who played with the boys and more often than not, came out the winner. She was a pit-bull when it came to negotiating.

“So, what is your friend’s name?”

“Zoey.”

“How did you meet?”

I poured her a glass of scotch that I kept on hand just for her. “In a coffee shop. I don’t really know her, but I gave her my card, and she was in an accident and the hospital called me.”

“So you brought her back here?”

“She has no one.”

“Has anyone ever told you that your heart is too big?”

“Only my mom.”

Krista’s eyes went big as she looked at something beyond my shoulder. I turned around. There stood Zoey. Sleep hadn’t improved her looks. With her hair sticking up, and her one good eye puffy from crying, she looked even worse than before.

“Hey, Zoey.”

She stood there, drowning in her scrubs.

I walked over to her. “Are you okay?”

Eyes on Krista, she whispered. “I was thirsty.”

“I bought some juice. Want that?”

“Can you bring it to the bedroom?”

“Sure.”

Like a ghost, she turned around and disappeared back into the bedroom. I found her prescription pills and poured her a glass of juice.

Krista leaned forward. “You know that horror movie, where the scary dead chick crawls out of the TV and kills people?”

I looked up at her. “Yeah.”

“She’s in your bedroom.”

“Krista,” I warned, trying not to smile.

I FOUND Zoey sitting on the edge of the bed. She looked up at me as I walked in.

“Is that your girlfriend?”

“Krista?” Mock horror. “That’s my agent.”

“What is this?” She looked at the pill I dropped into her hand.

“Pain medication. It’ll help you sleep.”

She tossed it back and then gulped back the juice. “Did you tell her about me?”

“Not much. Just that you were a friend who needed a place to crash.”

The one blue eye stared up at me. “Why are you being so nice?”

“Good question.”

“I hurt.”

“I know.”

“I’m in your bed.”

“That’s fine. Just sleep.”

She lay back on the bed and sighed as her head hit my pillow. “I’ll leave after I take one more nap.”

“We can talk about that when you get up.”

WHEN I CAME BACK OUT, Krista was digging through the bags.

“What are you doing?”

“I bought things in sizes six, four and two. She is definitely a size two. So I’m pulling out all the sizes she will swim in.”

“Okay.”

She stood up and faced me. “What’s going on?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you’re the most focused player I have ever worked with. You never lose sight of your goals. And now you have a child-swamp creature that looks like she is on death’s door, moving in with you.”

“She’s not moving in with me.”

“She’s sleeping in your bed.”

“She got jumped last night. You saw what he did to her face. She’s in a lot of pain.”

“But why is that your problem?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Why is she here?”

“She has no one.”

“Where is her home?”

“She doesn’t have one.”

“Where are her parents?”

“They died. She grew up in foster care.”

“Ryan,” she implored. “Are you serious?”

“What was I supposed to do?”

“You’re the guy who wouldn’t even get a house plant because you didn’t want the responsibility.”

“I didn’t ask for this.”

“So send her back.”

“Where exactly am I supposed to send her?”

“She should be in the hospital.”

“She was. They were releasing her this afternoon and the only support they had for her was a book of bus tickets. You saw her. She can barely walk, she has no money, no identification.”

“But why is this your responsibility?”

I jammed my hands into my pockets. “I don’t know.”

She stood there and stared at me for a long moment. “Fuck. You’re such a boy scout.”

“It’s called being human.”

“Well, if human is the route you want to go, I’ll do whatever I can to help you.”