Page 10 of The Cutting Edge
“Thank you,” I say, following Poppy into the small room with soothing gray and rose tones. A TV mounted near the ceiling blares a commercial for a Hoverround, with a pair of old folks cruising down the street holding hands like they’re living the dream.
Maybe they are. I mean, if you make it to the Hoveround years with somebody you still want to hold hands with, isn’t that a pretty incredible life?
Poppy sits down at the chair closest to the entrance, places her apple juice on a small table, and tears into the turkey sandwich, which is a dry, single slice of processed deli meat on a hamburger bun. Not much in the way of nutrition, but it will have to do for now. I plop myself down in the chair on the opposite side of the table and reach over to take the foil top off Poppy's apple juice cup.
Alexis stands around for a second or two, as though she is unsure about what to do with herself, and then she turns and heads back toward the nurses’ station.
“Thanks, Daddy,” says Poppy, before biting hungrily into the sandwich.
I watch Poppy as she enthusiastically chows down on the dry turkey sandwich, and suddenly her eyes go big.
“Oh my gosh, Dad. This is delicious. You have to try it,” she says solemnly. “This is the best turkey sandwich I’ve had in my life.”
“No way,” I tease her, “in your whole life?”
“Really, Daddy!” She holds it up. “You have to take a bite.” I shake my head no, but she continues holding it up.
Eventually, I relent, and I take a small nibble of the world’s greatest turkey sandwich. The turkey is salty and very dry, on a mostly stale hamburger bun, and I’m perplexed as to what the appeal could possibly be for Poppy.
“Mmm, that is delicious,” I say, dramatically chewing the very tiny, sawdusty bite.
“Do you want to share?” asks Poppy.
“That’s very generous of you,” I say, “but I’m not very hungry right now, so you can go ahead. Thank you for offering.”
Poppy shrugs her shoulders and tears into the sandwich. She’s either really hungry or she really does believe it's the world's greatest turkey sandwich because she finishes the entire thing in record time. When she's done, she washes it down with 3/4 of the apple juice cup and hops back up to her feet.
"I think I'm ready for my popsicle."
"Oh, you are, huh?” I tease. I'm not feeling super enthusiastic about re-engaging with Alexis, but I know there is no way I'm talking Poppy out of that popsicle.
"Do you think they have the red ones?" asks Poppy.
"There's only one way to find out, "I say. We head back to the nurses' station, and Poppy runs ahead of me the second she spots Alexis.
"I finished my sandwich! "Poppy shrieks a little too loudly.
"Inside voice,” I remind her gently, and Poppy’s hand flies to her mouth.
She stage-whispers dramatically, "I finished my sandwich!"
"Are you ready for your popsicle?" Alexis asks. Poppy nods her head yes and twirls like a ballerina with her hands in the air, as she follows the nurse down the hallway back toward the refrigerator.
Poppy whisper-shouts, "They have cherry! That's my favorite!"
“That's very lucky,” I tell Poppy. "Did you remember to tell Nurse Alexis thank you?"
Poppy turns to Alexis, puts her hand over her heart, and says, "Thank you very much for the greatest turkey sandwich I've ever had. And also the popsicle."
"You're very welcome," she says, looking over Poppy’s head at me instead of my daughter. I feel myself bristle. Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful that she offered Poppy the sandwich and the popsicle. But that kind of shit rubs me the wrong way. Probably because when you’re a professional athlete, you never really know when people like you for you, or if they just like that you play professionally. I don’t ever want Poppy to wonder the same thing just because her Dad happens to play hockey. I don’t want Poppy to grow up thinking people are only nice to her because of me. She warrants all the love and respect in the world, all by herself.
Alexis hands the cherry popsicle and a paper towel to Poppy, who quickly unwraps and jams it into her mouth.
“Mmmm. That hits the spot,” says Poppy, her mouth already stained red. The kid cracks me up.
Alexis tosses a couple of wet wipes in my direction, with a wink. “For later.”
“Thanks.” I catch them smoothly and stuff them into my pocket.
