Free Fallen for Her by Ava Armstrong

 
    ~ Ray ~
    Opening his eyes, he recognized the hospital recovery room. At the moment, only his eyelids moved. The fluorescent glare above him was bright and he squinted. The male nurse blocked the light as he leaned over to examine him.
    “How are you feeling, Ray?” he asked with that professional concern in his voice.
    “Like a damn truck ran over me.” Ray said in a hoarse whisper.
    “You’re a tough guy. It was a long surgery, but we think you’ll recover. Let’s take it slowly.” The nurse was patronizing, but Ray felt he couldn’t respond. Not just yet. The nurse told him Dr. Moskowitz would be in soon while removing a few pieces of tubing from his battered body.
    Ray was no stranger to the hospital recovery room. He’d broken his ankle, his nose and had a ruptured appendix before, so it was no big deal to him. As the blood pressure cuff automatically inflated once again, his thoughts were racing.
    The last thing he remembered was the puck being shot toward him and he was in front of the goal. Then he was down on the ice in a flash. He liked the smell of the ice in the arena. The crowd was screaming as he lost consciousness. The last thing he remembered was a horrific pain in his neck and back. He woke once while in the ambulance and had no idea what was taking place. Attendants scrambled with somber faces, moving around him as if they were trying to save his life or something.
    He only remembered one sentence, “You’ve got a broken back and we’re prepping you for surgery.” Then he went out. He didn’t remember who said those words. The blood pressure cuff deflated. He moved his arm slightly and the pain from the IV stung him. Good, he thought. If I can feel pain that’s a good sign. He tried to wiggle his toes, but they wouldn’t respond.
    Dr. Moskowitz breezed into the room, “Fresh out of surgery, how do you feel, Ray?”
    “Like shit.” Ray whispered.
    The nurse was back in the room holding a cup of water with a straw. Ray never felt so parched in his life. Unable to lift or turn his head he sucked water, rinsed his mouth and swallowed. His throat was sore from the tube.
    “You had a bad hockey game, young man. Really bad. How many guys hit you?” Moskowitz asked.
    “Two, I think. I don’t remember.” Ray responded. “What’s going on doc, talk to me…”
    “You will need another surgery, Ray. This one was done to stabilize your spine. We installed some hardware in there.”  Moskowitz put an MRI up on the light box and switched it on. Ray could see the damage before the surgeon began his technical explanation.
    “C5 is destroyed, C6, C7 are badly damaged. And, that’s just the cervical spine.” Moskowitz put up another view, “Your lumbar is pretty messed up, too.”
    Ray closed his eyes for a moment realizing this meant the end of his hockey career, and quite possibly the end of a lot of things.
    That was nine years ago. Since then, he’d had a second surgery, and switched his major in college to law and accelerated his classes. He was grateful the feeling returned in the lower half of his body.  It was a miracle, really.  His girlfriend, Sarah, left him after the injury, so he had a lot of time on his hands. Physical therapy and college took up most of his life, and working part-time as a bartender at Tony’s. Ray Adriano had become a lonely man living in one of the world’s most populated cities.
    New York City was his hometown but ironically he had few friends left. Most of his hockey buddies moved on to bigger and better, one even played in the NHL. After college he hung with a few guys in law school, but he never played hockey again. Even watching it on television made him lonely for the way things used to be.
    At one time he was the enforcer, the quick scrambling defensive guy who could take a center off his feet in two, maybe three seconds without warning. He broke the noses of a few too many right and left wings, too, and maybe an orbital eye socket.  That was