Page 55 of Force Play

It’s my favorite story. I would have asked

her out a hundred times to get my chance.

Dom:

Mom’s one of a kind. So is Indie.

Dad:

Maybe we can meet her when we

come out at the end of the season.

Dom:

I hope so.

Dad:

Dottie wants to know if you’re still going

to help her with her homework tonight?

Dom:

Tell her of course, it’s the highlight of my week.

Chapter 19

Indie

For as long as I can remember, I’ve needed to be on the move.

After my mom’s diagnosis, it only got worse. Sitting idle was physically painful, like my skin was being stretched by energy that had no way to get out. Biking was something my mom and I loved to do together. The sicker she got, the more I pushed it, riding on trails and longer distances. When I couldn’t ride, I’d run or hike anything that got me outside and wore me out.

Usually it’s enough to do the trick, especially coupled with anxiety meds, but sometimes the agitation wins out and that’s when I end up being a little reckless. Not because I don’t value my life, but because I need to feel something other than grief and panic. The adrenaline seems to calm it, at least temporarily.

Needless to say, I’m not adjusting well to this injury. So when Dr. Smith called after sitting around for almost a week to tell me they had a project they needed help with, I figuratively jumped at the chance to do something useful. Our meeting got off to a rocky start when she saw me hobbling in on crutches and insisted she look at my foot.

Now that she’s confirmed it’s not broken, just badly sprained as expected, and forced a boot on me to help me get around better, we are finally getting down to the reason I’m here in the first place—staffing a second location. Beyond that, they also need help to set up a volunteer structure for a future sexual assault crisis hotline that they are hoping to roll out later this year.

“It’s a big undertaking, but I’m confident that we can meet the deadline. I’ll start on it right away,” I tell Maryann as she walks me to the door. As much as I protested the boot, telling her it was unnecessary, I’ve got to admit it’s so much better than those crutches.

“I have no doubt. If you still have some time this evening, that support group is meeting in about—” She glances down at the delicate silver watch on her wrist. “Twenty minutes. That’s just long enough to grab a coffee and make it back in time.”

“You planned this, didn’t you?”

The glint of humor in her eyes and wry grin give her away. She absolutely did this on purpose. “Only some kind of evil genius would do that.”

“In that case, see you later, Gru.”

Passing my car on the way, I drop off my crutches, since I no longer need them with the boot. I could just get in and go home, but after everything Dr. Smith has done for me, going to this meeting hardly seems like a sacrifice. Like she said, all I have to do is listen. It won’t change anything.

There’s not enough time to make it to Buns & Roses and back before the meeting starts, but there is a Dunkin’ on the corner. If I’m going to sit through this meeting, I at least deserve a mid-afternoon pick-me-up. One plain cold brew later and I’m doing a lopsided stroll back into the clinic for the meeting.

Skipping right past the name tags, because I have zero plans to share today, I head straight to the circle of chairs. There’s nowhere to hide, so I take the most unassuming spot I can find. With five minutes before the start, there are only a few open seats left and they are filling fast.

Just as the facilitator rises to pull the door shut, sneakers squeak on the tile, and there’s a rushed apology as a woman who looks to be about my age cuts right through the center of the circle. Her light blue hair is cut into a bob and she’s got a tiny hoop hanging from her septum.

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