Chapter 25

Magnus

The morning of my surgery dawned sunny and bright. My nerves were a mess, but I was excited too. It was the beginning of a new life for me. The first step, anyway.

Cochlear implant surgery wasn’t a one-and-done deal. Today the actual implant was being inserted into my inner ear and the receiver coil would be placed in the bone, under the skin behind my ear. It would take three to six weeks of healing after that before I could be fitted with the external microphone and headpiece. That was going to be a long three to six.

Jennie and I drove to the surgical center without speaking. Both of us were in our own heads. When we pulled up to the nondescript, gray building, Jennie reached out for my hand. I held it tight as I parked my truck. We were early.

She squeezed me to gain my attention. “You okay?”

I had to laugh. That was the question I asked her all the time. “Yeah. I am.”

“You’re one hundred percent sure you want to do this, right? Not for me, but for you.”

Jennie had asked me this several times too. “Yes, dear.”

It was her turn to laugh. The tables had turned. “Okay then. Let’s do it.”

***

The surgery took just over three hours. When I woke up the second or third time—anesthesia kicked my ass—Jennie was sitting beside me in the recovery room.

I smiled and rubbed her hand that was holding mine. “How did it go?”

“The doctor said everything looks good. Now we just have to wait for you to heal. You’re going to have a headache, maybe some nausea and dizziness, but that should only last a day or two.”

“I wonder how much hair they shaved off.”

Jennie shrugged. “Can’t tell. You’re bandaged. That’ll stay on for a while and in about a week, you’ll have the stitches removed. How do you feel?”

“I definitely have the headache. Not sure about the rest, but I’m thirsty.”

Jennie leaned over to the table next to her and grabbed the can of ginger ale. My hands shook as I took it from her. “I hate anesthesia.”

“You’d hate not having it more.”

I couldn’t argue with that. I put my head down and winced at the contact. Guess I’d be sleeping on my right side for a while.

A nurse came in to check on me and brought peanut butter crackers with him. Here you go. Eat these and we’ll see about getting you out of here.

You sign. Impressive.

He laughed as if he’d heard that a lot. This is a cochlear implant surgery center. Fixing people’s hearing is pretty much all we do. Think about that, Mr. Eriksson.

The young nurse walked away but came back in a minute later, crossing and uncrossing his arms in indecision. He made up his mind and spoke up. My boss would have my head for this, but I can’t miss this opportunity. I swear, I’m one of your biggest fans. Do you think I could get your autograph and keep my job?

The kid made me laugh, and I regretted the action immediately as it rattled my aching head. Sure thing. As long as you don’t let my recovery room here fill up with hockey fans.

You have my word. I’ll be right back.

He all but ran out through the curtain drawn around my bed, returning with my hockey card. Carry this around with you, do you?

No. I switched schedules with another nurse so I could take care of you today. He rolled his eyes at himself. I swear I’m not a stalker or anything. I was going to bring my jersey, but that would have been weird, right?

I was holding his card but had nothing to write with. Pen?

Ah! Yeah. One second. His feet carried him out and then back in again. Jennie was amused with the whole situation.

Here you go. Sorry about that.

Just as the kid was putting the card in his chest pocket, my doctor walked in. You’re busted, nurse. No bothering the patients. You know the rules.

The kid’s head hung low, and my heart went out to him. It’s fine, Dr. Jeffers. Really. He hasn’t overstepped any bounds.

My doctor put his finger on his chin. I’ll let it go on one condition. When I see you next week to get your stiches out, you’ll sign my son’s jersey. He’s a big fan.

My nurse looked at him with his mouth ajar. He’d been played. I almost laughed again before I remembered not to. Deal. Now can I get out of here?

Yes. As soon as I get this lovely young lady’s signature. You can’t sign your own release after being under anesthesia.

I watched Jennie sign me out, strangely proud that she was responsible for me. After the doctor left, Jennie helped me get dressed and we went home. Eight Ball didn’t leave my side all night, even when I went into the bathroom. She may shit in my shoes from time to time, but she was loyal.

***

My discomfort for the week following the surgery was minimal. The biggest complaint I had was that the stitches were itchy and my hair looked a little strange growing back in where they’d had to shave it behind my ear.

I arrived thirty minutes early for my first follow-up appointment and stitch removal. As promised, the doctor brought his son’s jersey for me to sign. I brought a couple of other things for you to give your boy. Thought he might enjoy these. I handed him a puck, mini stick, and a Breakers backpack.

Dr. Jeffer’s grin stretched ear to ear. You just won me the father of the year award, and with Father’s Day just around the corner, I’ll bet that kid will even wash my car.

I couldn’t wait until I could tell those kinds of stories about my own kids. Jennie’s next ultrasound appointment was in less than a week, and with any luck, we’d find out the sex of the baby. She didn’t care if we found out or not, but I was dying to know.

With my stitches removed, I made my way home, stopping at the jewelry store to pick up a mother’s ring I’d bought to give Jennie when our child was born. September’s birthstone was the lone gem sparkling from the white gold, but if she delivered early and had the baby in August, I could easily switch the sapphire for a peridot. The engraving read, You are the fire in my heart.

Jennie was napping out on the deck in her favorite overstuffed lounge chair when I got home. The network she worked for had her writing a series of articles on all of the free agents who hadn’t been picked up by any team before the end of the season. She’d taken to using the mornings to make calls to the players’ agents, setting up telephone interview times, and then the afternoons were reserved for outlining her future articles. In between those hours, she took short naps.

I decided to stay inside and do some laundry so I didn’t disturb her. Housework wasn’t my strongest skill, but our cleaning lady was on vacation for a couple of weeks, and we didn’t want to have someone else come in while she was away.

I knew where the soap went, but when I looked at the dial, I had no idea which setting to pick. There were buttons everywhere. I had to pick the water temperature, the water level, what kind of clothes I was washing—it was ridiculous. I chose the buttons that lined up like a railroad and turned the setting to something called Permanent Press. It seemed like the obvious choice. I had some jeans in there, so I couldn’t pick Delicate. I didn’t know if all the clothes were made from cotton, so I couldn’t pick Regular Cottons, and I was pretty sure I didn’t need the Auto Soak/Extra Cleaning setting. I used simple common sense—and said a little prayer that I didn’t fuck up Jennie’s clothes.

I’d just closed the dryer door when Jennie walked up behind me, slipping her arms around me as much as she was able to. “Hey, sweetheart.” I turned to face her and smiled at her sleepy face. “You okay?”

“Yes, dear.” Her hand ran lightly over my head where the stitches had been. “How was your appointment?”

“So far, so good.”

He hands flew to her belly. “Not again.”

“What? Is something wrong?”

“No. Here.” She took my hand and placed it just under her breasts. “The baby has the hiccups.”

There was a tiny bump against my hand every few seconds. “The hiccups?”

“Yeah. It feels like someone is flicking me in the stomach from the inside. She had them this morning too.”

I kept my hands on her, marveling at our baby growing in there. “Does it hurt?”

She shook her head. “No. Just feels weird.” Her hands went to her back. “You want to take a little walk? I need to stretch out a bit.”

“Sure.”

It took us a couple of minutes to get down the four flights of stairs. This house had to go. I couldn’t see Jennie lugging a baby and diaper bag and whatever else she needed up and down all these steps when I wasn’t there to help her. It wasn’t fair.

Since we were walking, I switched to signing. Only four more weeks to go before we didn’t have to do that anymore. I know we talked about it before, but what do think of buying the house at the end of the island? I think we should do it. I’d checked on it again a few days ago. It was still for sale and would be ready by mid-July to move into.

Are you really serious about that? It’s got to cost at least three million. It’s not just one floor, it’s the whole house!

I know. I talked to the realtor and the architect. If we buy it with cash, we can get it for five hundred thousand less than list price.

Jennie stopped walking and faced me, hands on hips. You actually looked into it? Tell me. I want details now.

Jennie got a little freaked about the whole money thing, but I could see the gleam in her eye thinking about that house. The views alone were to die for. It’s a four-bedroom house with five bathrooms. Her face tightened up, but she let me continue. The decks on the second and third floor span ninety feet with views of nothing but dunes, ocean, and the inlet. Plus, it has an elevator.

I know it’s an awesome house, Mags, but what’s the price?

This was where I’d lose her. She’d turn it down flat. The price is less than I made last year.

That doesn’t mean it’s a good price. You made a lot of money.

Our salaries were public knowledge, so she should know that we could afford it. Yes, I did. I made over seven million a year for the last six years. Do the math. Four and a half million is a lot of money for a house, I know, but I worked hard for it, why not spend some of it?

I was always a saver. When I first hit the big league, I was twenty-one. My first year I only made eight hundred and fifty thousand, but after that I got a three-year contract which paid three million a year. Then with my next team, I got even more for a three-year contract. Add to that the over forty-two million I’d made on my latest contract, and I could buy the damn house.

Didn’t you look over the portfolio my finance guy sent over last month? I asked you to.

No, I didn’t. I kind of forgot about it.

You didn’t forget about it. The money thing was probably the only real bone of contention in our relationship, but no marriage was perfect. Let me break it down for you. I never went wild with my money. I give to charities and take care of my parents, but I’ve always invested well too. All told, I have roughly eighty million dollars to my name.

I guess she’d never done the math. She grabbed my arm. “Eighty million dollars?”

Yes.

A tentative smile crossed her lips as she let that sink in. Then let’s buy that house.

Yeah? I was excited at the prospect of buying something so opulent. I’d never been a big spender. It wasn’t that I’d ever consciously thought about not spending money—I bought whatever I wanted without thinking about it—but big-money items, such as a house that cost millions, weren’t what I normally went for.

Yes. I wonder if we could be in it before the baby comes.

Sweetheart, I’ll make it happen for you. She didn’t need to know I already had that answer.