“What about the risk of rupturing?”
“It’s increased because it’s grown, but I’m still only considered a moderate risk.”
“Moderate for normal people whose blood pressure isn’t being pushed at practice every day, and for people not getting their head bashed around with a stick.”
I didn’t answer, because of course she was right. I’d always known I had an elevated risk of rupture because of my job. But hockey was my life, so I’d never questioned my decision. I would’ve risked everything to play. Only lately, hockey wasn’t feeling like the most important thing in the world anymore.
I shook my head. “I don’t know what to do. I can’t build something with Georgia knowing I’m putting myself at risk every day. I won’t do that to her. But if I have the surgery, I might not ever play professional hockey again.”
My mom frowned. “Sounds like you have a serious choice to make. Which one matters more to you?”
? ? ?
For the next few days I wandered. I’d shipped my car from New York to LA, and it hadn’t arrived yet. So I rented a Jeep, and my dogs and I drove along the coast looking for something. What? I didn’t know. Perhaps I was looking for a solution, some sort of a sign about what I should do. Nothing had jumped out at me as of yet.
Each day I ventured out without any plans and just drove until I saw something that interested me. So far I’d been to Malibu, Sequoia National Park, and the Santa Monica Pier. I couldn’t help but think that if Georgia and I lived out here together, we’d visit some of those places on our next staycation.
This morning I’d headed south. I hadn’t been sure what city I was going to, but when I saw signs for Rosie’s Dog Beach, I figured that was one sign I couldn’t ignore. So the boys and I spent the afternoon walking along the water, where they were allowed to roam off leash. There’d been a shopping area not too far from there, so after we were done, I stopped to see if I could find some waters for the dogs and something to eat for me.
A half block from where I parked, I found a chicken place that fit the bill with outdoor seating, so I grabbed a table. But as we got up to leave after our meal, I looked two stores down and did a double take.
Eternity Roses.
Seriously?
What were the chances that I’d walk straight into one of Georgia’s boutiques? I walked over and stared at the window for a while, looking at the displays, yet not really seeing them, before wandering inside.
“Is it okay if I bring my dogs in?”
The girl behind the counter smiled. “Only if I get to play with them.”
“Deal.”
She came out from behind the counter, and frick and frack practically attacked her. Four licked her face, and not to be outdone, Fred ran in rapid circles, chasing his own tail.
The clerk laughed. “Oh my gosh, they’re so cute.”
“Thank you.”
“Is there something I can help you with?”
I didn’t want to explain why I’d come in, so I figured maybe I’d send my mom some flowers for listening to my sorry ass the other day. “I’m just going to look around, if that’s okay. I’d like to send my mom some flowers, but I’m not sure what yet.”
“Sure. Take your time. I’ll happily occupy these guys while you browse.” She pointed to a wall with glass shelves and different arrangements on display. “Those are all stock pieces that can be made in any colors you want. But if you had something specific in mind, we can also make a custom arrangement. They just take two to three days more. Is this for a specific reason, like a birthday or get well?”
“More of a thanks-for-putting-up-with-me gift.”
She smiled. “Those are always fun. There’s also an iPad at the front counter that can give you some ideas of things people have custom ordered and a fun database of messages that has everything from poetry to sweet to funny.”
I remembered Georgia saying she used to enjoy writing those messages when she first started out, so after taking a quick look around, I was drawn to the iPad.
Scrolling down to the suggestions marked Just because, I double-clicked and started to read. Some were funny, some were dirty, and some were just corny. I chuckled when I got to one written by Maggie P.:
Best friends are like peeing in your pants.
Everyone sees it, but only you feel the warmth.
That had to be the Maggie I knew. After a while, I stopped reading the messages and just scrolled the names to see who had written them. I guess I was hoping to find one written by Georgia. I didn’t, but when I got to the very bottom of hundreds of messages and saw one by F. Scott Fitzgerald, I remembered Georgia had said she’d kept his books annotated near the register because his quotes simplified love for her.