Blind Kiss(41)

“How?” was all I could say. I was moving in and out of consciousness. My knee was throbbing.

“Please just stay still,” Doug said.

I looked at my dad. “My knee. It’s bad.”

“We don’t know that yet,” he said.

But I knew.

My dad rode in the ambulance with me. Once we arrived at the hospital, they couldn’t give me pain medication until they were able to do a CAT scan to make sure my head was okay. Once that was out of the way, they gave me morphine and did an MRI on my knee. Lance stayed at the hospital with my dad all night. My mom took Kiki home and Ling left for an early-morning flight to her parents’ house in California. She had finished finals early as well and wanted to take advantage of the downtime before graduation. She asked me if I wanted her to cancel, but I just shook my head. What could anyone really do?

I tried to call Gavin, but his phone went straight to voicemail. Throughout the night, I went in and out of sleep. Lance stayed, refilled my water cup every hour, and tried to comfort me as my dad slept in the waiting room.

“You don’t have to stay,” I told him.

“I want to,” he said.


IN THE MORNING, the orthopedic surgeon came in. He was thin and absurdly tall, at least six foot six, but his face was kind as he hovered over my hospital bed. Lance was slouching in a chair across from me, and my dad was standing next to my bed as I lay there helpless, my strong body just a broken pile of bones.

“Hello, Penny. How are you feeling this morning?”

“I’m in a lot of pain.”

He nodded. “We’ll get you something for that right away.” He walked out and talked to a nurse, then returned a moment later. “Let’s look at your MRI and X-ray results.” He put scans up on a light board and then turned to me. “You had a mild concussion, but otherwise you’re fine—”

“What about my knee?”

“I’m getting to that.”

“Cut to the chase, doc,” I said. A moment later a nurse was pushing morphine through my IV. I felt my chest tighten up and the wooziness of the drug settle in.

“You have some torn cartilage—”

“That doesn’t sound too bad, Penny!” Lance chimed in excitedly.

“Let me finish,” the doctor said. “There’s a piece of cartilage between your femur and tibia that gives your knee stability.”

“The meniscus,” I mumbled, thinking about Doug.

“Yes,” he confirmed. “There’s a significant tear in your meniscus, as well as a tear in your ACL.”

“You can repair them both with surgery, though, right?” my father asked.

“Both tears are very severe, I’m afraid. We’ll do the best we can. We have a great team here, but there are no guarantees that your knee will fully recover. It’ll take time.”

“Will I be able to dance again?” I could hear myself talking but I was starting to fade from the morphine.

“All I can say is that you’ll need surgery and several months of physical therapy before you’ll be able to walk properly. Every patient recovers differently, and I’ve seen star athletes make remarkable recoveries. But that’s the exception, not the rule. Recovering from two severe injuries at the same time . . . perhaps it’s best to adjust your expectations now.”

My eyes were starting to close. I’ll never dance again, I’ll never dance again, I’ll never dance again.

Lance stood up, smoothing the hair out of my face and holding my hand.

The doctor was looking at me strangely. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“Can I have morphine?”

“The nurse just administered a dose. You should close your eyes and get some rest. We need the swelling to go down around your knee before we can get to work.”

I looked at my father. His eyes were watering. The room started to go dark. The doctor was still talking, but I couldn’t hear what he was saying. Lance was asking him questions. I didn’t even know why Lance was still here.

“Dad?” I mumbled. He grabbed my hand and squeezed it.

“What is it, Sweet Pea?”

“Where’s Gavin?”

He shook his head. “Get some sleep, baby girl.”


AFTER A SOLID day in the hospital, my phone went dead. I hadn’t heard from Gavin. If he needed to find me, it wouldn’t be that hard—after all, my parents’ phone number was tattooed on his hand.

Three days passed. The swelling went down in my knee and I was scheduled for surgery. My dad seemed to be taking my injury worse than me, though I was looped up on so many drugs I don’t think I really knew what was going on. My mom and Kiki were there a lot, Ling seemed to call every hour on the hour, and I literally couldn’t get rid of Lance.

An hour before my surgery, my family went to the hospital cafeteria to get some breakfast while Lance sat in a chair in my hospital room, studying. He looked up when he noticed me stirring after a short nap.

“Are you ready for this?” he asked.

“Lance Stone, you are a dead ringer for Tobey Maguire. Have I told you that?”

“Yeah, like nine hundred times in the last three days.” We laughed. I was on so many drugs, I couldn’t even remember what day of the week it was. “Do you like Tobey Maguire?” he asked.