I love you. The memory of Christen's voice circulated in my brain as I woke up, jaw ajar, turned on my side, drooling into the deep blue airplane seat while Chris' eyes burned into my soul.
"Why do I always wake up to you staring at me?" I murmured sleepily.
"It's time to go," she said.
We filed out of the plane. A tall woman's face stood out to me in the crowd, partly because she towered over everyone else and partly because she was facing our way. From this distance, she looked just like Christen.
"There's my sister," Christen said, taking the sunglasses that were resting on her head and putting them on.
When we reached her, Christen's sister and her hugged for a moment. A rushing passerby knocked into my crutches.
"This is Tyler," Christen said. "Tyler, this is Tobin."
As I said hi, Tyler crashed into me for a hug too. This was one huggy family.
"Oh shoot, the crutches!" Tyler said. "Sorry."
"How's Mom?" Christen asked.
"Same as she was. Let's get in the car."
The car smelled like those cherry-scented, tree-shaped rear-view mirror decorations, but I didn't see one dangling from the mirror. I went to the back, placing my feet on either side of a metal trash can on a floor that was spotless other than for some cashew crumblings. Christen and Tyler spoke quietly in the front. No music, only serious discussion.
"Will she be allowed in the room?" Christen whispered.
"I'm sure," Tyler answered. "As long as we're all together, they don't enforce family-only rules."
"Do you know what caused this?"
"The doctor was talking about some kind of blockage."
"What's Dad been saying?" Christen asked.
"In shock. He and Channing are confident she'll wake up at any moment."
"Do you think she could?"
In the mirror, Tyler's eyes focused only on the road. "...I don't know."
For five seconds, it was silent. Then Christen said, "There's a strong smell in here," and rolled the window down. The gust was still a bit chillier than it should've been for this time of year. It entered every opening of my baggy sweater and sent ruffles through Chris' blouse, but she faced the breeze head-on.
"Goddamned ambulance," Tyler said as we entered the hospital parking lot. "I should've came in the other way."
"Think of it as a good thing," Christen said. "It means you haven't been here much."
Christen and I went ahead while Tyler paid for a parking ticket. I still wasn't entirely used to the crutches, so she had to walk slow for me to catch up.
"You'd think three legs would be faster, right?" I said.
"The time we get there won't make a difference."
Tyler joined us again. In the hospital, a child with her own crutches made eye contact with me, and we exchanged a sympathetic smile. The bright-lit hallways smelled the same as the ones I'd travelled through that morning. I think hospitals use special cleaners that are different from what we buy for our homes. I don't know anyone who would want that smell in their house, but it seemed that all hospitals shared it.
One left turn later, we were in the ICU. A small white card by the door read, "Stacy Press - Room 14, Dr. Shea".
Christen's mother was lying in the bed, with a man at her side who had one hand over hers and the other clutching the velcro strip of a baseball cap. Christen's father, I assumed. I almost didn't notice Channing, standing idly, rubbing the separation curtain together with her fingers and creating creases in the fabric. Being the only one there without any direct connection to Stacy, I considered taking a step back, feeling as though I didn't belong.
Christen went to give her father a shaky hug. I saw his lips move, but I wasn't sure what he said. Then Chris stood next to her mother. Tentatively, I approached.
"Nobody told me she was on life support," Christen whispered.
I was going to say 'I'm sorry', but I didn't think that was what she wanted. I placed a hand on her back and turned to Tyler and Channing. I was half-expecting them to swoop in, comforting each other and holding Christen in a sort of sisterly sandwich. But for right now, they each took it in individually. Suddenly, Christen turned and wrapped her arms around my waist. When she pulled away, her father stood behind her.
"So you're... Tobin, right?" he held his hand out for the shake.
"Yeah," I said, accepting it.
He put his other hand on my shoulder, staring me deeply in the eyes. "This really wasn't the way I was expecting to meet you. I regret that."
"I'm glad to be here to support Christen," I said. "I know how close she was with Stacy."
"Yeah," he sighed. "Wow, look at us. One's on crutches, Channing just got over her bronchitis, and one is... you know." He glanced back at the bed. Now it made sense why Channing was so quiet, too.
"Have you been here all night?" Christen asked.
"I went back to Grandma's for a bit," he said. "She wanted to be sure we weren't living off of hospital food."
"That sounds like her," she said, wiping the tears away. "I think I need a break. Tobin? Want to go to the food court with me?"
"Sure," I said.
We walked back out to the main court. A man with red stubble and a baseball cap eyed me from one of the tables as if he knew who I was, but he didn't smile. I took my phone off airplane mode and faced away from him. I'd remembered to text my mother before leaving, but now I had texts from everyone.
Alex 👶🐎:
Hope you feel better, Tobs <3
Harry:
Are you making use of the Nintendo Switch? ;)
Linds:
Came by the hospital at about noon and they said you'd been discharged. They really throw people out fast, huh?
Ash:
So I talked to Cindy... YOU'RE GOING TO CALIFORNIA?? GIIIRL take me with you!
Christen was coming back to the table, so I shut my phone off. "Are you okay?" I asked.
"I think so." She set a gigantic cup of New York fries in front of us and picked out a handful. I distinctly remembered Sonny, Lindsey and me eating an entire one of these after we and the rest of the Thorns won the NWSL Championship in 2017. We timed how long it took to eat them all. We managed it in two minutes.
Suddenly, the man with the red stubble stood up and approached the table. "Tobin Heath!" he said, pointing with both fingers. "I know you!"
"That's me," I smiled politely.
"What happened to you?"
"Just a small ankle injury. Do you watch the games?"
He ignored my question. "Wow, women really get hit hard with these things, right?"
I wasn't sure if he was trying to be sympathetic or insulting. Christen shot me a look. "Well, I don't spend my time thinking about stuff like that," I said.
"Right, because you love the sport," he said. "Do you find that your teams change so much from game-to-game?"
"Well, we always try to get better, if that's what you mean."
He shook his head. "Like, I don't understand how a second-last place team could beat a first place team. I'm not saying it's your fault, but I always thought it had something to do with periods."
I clenched my teeth as I imagined how good it would feel to clock him. I turned my body away, but he tapped me to regain my attention.
"I mean, it must suck, right?" he said, flashing a smile full of perfect teeth; perfectly clockable, that is. "Even for decent players like you." He stared at me eyebrows raised, eagerly awaiting my polite plea of peacekeeping.
"Shove a Cheeto up your butt, jackass," I said without thinking.
My teeth quaked in shock at what my tongue had just said. My taste buds were gossiping about it. So, I slammed my lips together, closed as if a deadbolt were keeping them that way to hide the mass confusion within my mouth.
The man lifted his hands like the character without a gun would in the movies. Then, he took his coat and left.
"As much as I wasn't expecting that," Christen said, handing me a fry, "I just want you to know that I'm really proud."
I took the fry and ripped a bite off like it was a carrot. "Wow," I said. "I can't believe I just quoted Kelley."
"I know," Christen smiled mischievously. "His shit's going to be orange for weeks, mate."
Once Christen and I had binged on most of the fries, we started heading back. A doctor with brown hair and highlights swerved around us like a police car. A button on her belt beeped as she glided through the crowd - not quite running, but definitely on a mission - and a tag next to it said Dr. Shea. It took a second for it to dawn on me where I'd seen that name. I turned to tell Christen, but she was already staring at me knowingly.
"Excuse me?" Christen said. "Are you Stacy Press' doctor?"
"Are you a relative?" the doctor asked. Her face was so blank and serious, it worried me.
"I'm her daughter," Christen said, matching her pace to Dr. Shea's while I tried to stay close. All the hospital bustle was enough without the clicks and clacks of my crutches getting in the way of my hearing.
"I have to go do some tests with her," Dr. Shea said. "She-"
"Tests on her?" Christen cut her off. "Are you going to find out wh-"
"With her," the doctor spoke louder. "Your mother's waking up."