big deal. A couple of snips here, a few stitches there, and her knee would be good as new. She didn’t even have to go to an actual hospital for it, just a fancy outpatient surgery center where they mostly performed plastic surgery. Phoebe kept joking about a potential paperwork mix-up where she’d wake up with a brand-new set of double Ds.
Though Mel never let on, she knew Phoebe was full of it. Mel had googled the real story of what the surgery would entail. First off, your ACL doesn’t “tear” so much as “explode.” It can never be sewn back together because the ligament completely liquefies. The operation is actually a very involved procedure that lasts nearly three hours. Phoebe’s surgeon would construct an entirely new ACL by cutting away a strip of the tendon that currently connected her kneecap to her shin. He would then thread that piece into place via holes he would drill into her bones, and later, those holes would be plugged up with screws. Mel found a video of an ACL surgery online. She closed her laptop as soon as the scalpel pressed into flesh for the first incision.
Not only was Mel alarmed by what Phoebe was about to endure, but also she was dumbfounded that Coach had undergone ACL repairs four times for each of his knees, a grand total of eight operations, before being forced to retire. She’d asked about each one, but the details were vague and hazy. A torn meniscus his sophomore year; a cadaver ACL after getting flown home from England during an international showcase. It expanded Mel’s notion of his loss, rendered his emotional pain into something physical, and carved out an even deeper place for him inside her heart.
And knowing that, how could Mel not forgive him for shutting her out? For suddenly regarding her as a thing that took up space on his field, like a plastic cone? Coach never wanted to coach high school girls field hockey. And he certainly never wanted to teach high school. He took this job only because there was nothing else out there at the time. He never wanted to care about any of this. The championship loss had wounded him. And all his scar tissue made it hard to heal.
Anyway.
Gruesome as it was, Phoebe was raring to go. Though she was diagnosed with a torn ACL the day after the championship game, she’d been forced to wait an entire agonizing four weeks to have the operation. Her surgeon felt this time was critical to allow the swelling to go down. Unfortunately, the delay only increased the time before Phoebe could play again. And patience was never her virtue.
Once the operation date was set for January 22, Phoebe bought a wall calendar and began plotting her comeback. Certain events she marked with a Sharpie … every spring club game, plus the weekend tournaments, summer leagues, the week at Kissawa. With those set, Phoebe plotted out her physical therapy goals in pencil, erasing and moving imagined milestones.
“If there are no complications, I should be cleared to start running in four months. That puts me out of spring club for sure. But fingers crossed I’m good to go for summer leagues. And there’s no way I’m missing Kissawa.”
The whole thing seemed to Mel a cruel exercise. From what she had read, Phoebe was going to be completely out of commission for at least six months, minimum. And it could be a whole year until she had fully regained her strength and range of motion. But of course, Mel said nothing. Just like she said nothing when Phoebe had decided to play in the championship game, when her ACL was only a sprain. Her job as Phoebe’s best friend and teammate was to support her. She wasn’t a doctor. And she’d always been impressed by how hard Phoebe worked at everything she did. If there were an exception to the rule, Phoebe would be it.
It was just before study hall that Mel got the text from Mrs. Holt saying Phoebe was out of surgery and the procedure had been a success. Mel sent a text to all her teammates and then decided to stop by Coach’s classroom. He’d want to know, of course. And, also, Mel was looking for any excuse to talk to him.
Mel felt Coach’s absence like a breakup. She often got the urge to text him. Just something funny she heard. Sometimes she would write these texts in the Notes