Zenon's Game Chapter 192

"I've been a patient here for a couple years," he told me, "I was injured sophomore year and it took about nine months before I was properly playing again."

I didn't know what to say. He waited for me to say something and then looked at me, like he was expecting me to say something. So I said the first thing that came to mind.

Which is never wise...

I pointed at the picture. "So that's you?"

"Yes, Candace. That's me."

I brought my fingers to my mouth and tugged at my lower lip. The truth is, I was scared.

Zenon is everything I wanted to be: strong and talented and powerful and confident and... here he was on the wall of a hospital. How do I stand strong if my rock is breaking?

"Zenon, are you OK?" I asked him again, trying to keep everything together, "Please tell me we're not here because you're still a patient."

"I'm still a patient," he answered.

Come on, Zenon. Say something to calm me down.

I tried really hard to think about something else, anything else so I don't fall apart right now.

"Don't look so worried," he told me, "I had jumper's knee and that led to surgery for micro-tears. I had to stop playing for a while, but I'm not going anywhere."

"Jumper's knee?" I repeated, running through a list of life-threatening illnesses in my mind.

Nope, jumper's knee was not one I've heard before.

I was so lost inside my thoughts that I didn't notice a doctor stop behind Zenon until he said, "Patellar tendonitis is what you can call that, Mr Albert."

I read the name on his silver name tag: Dr Banerjee.

"I haven't got you penciled in for a check-up today," the Dr. said, "Which is funny, because when I do, you don't show up."

"I haven't been a perfect patient," Zenon told me, "But I still made the wall."

"That was undeserved, Mr Albert. But Nurse Zhang liked you," the Dr. informed us, "Now who might you be? Always a pleasure to meet a new face."

"I'm Candace," I said, "It's nice to meet you too."

"Candace's my girlfriend. We're here on a date," Zenon said.

I tried not to laugh at Dr Banerjee's expression. Zenon didn't bother explaining.

He really doesn't care what people think.

Then the Doctor said, "I hope you don't have any plans to disrupt the ordinary business-"

"No, no," Zenon answered, "Nothing like that. We're innocent here."

"I'll never believe that," Dr Banerjee said and checked his beeper, before turning to me, "It's a nice surprise to meet you, Candace. I never thought I'd see Zenon Albert's girlfriend. You're a strong girl to be able to keep him in line."

I looked from the Doctor to Zenon. OK.

The Dr added one more thing before he left. "You know what I've always said about you, Zenon? Too young, too fast. I hope you prove me wrong."

Zenon and I sat on a bench in the clinic's patio. There were so many plants surrounding us and the quiet murmur of patients passing by. It was a chilly day and I zipped my black coat up to my throat.

"Why did you bring me here Zenon?" I asked him.

"Because I found it difficult to tell you," he said, "So I thought I'd show you."

I twisted round on the cold bench and stared back at the clinic. The busy comings and goings of patients and medical professionals – of lives I knew nothing about. I never expected he was hiding this.

"I chose the Kentucky Wildcats," Zenon said.

Or that.

My fingers curled around the top of the wooden bench. "But that's not your dream school."

"When you don't know what your dream is, you go down the route that keeps your options open."

"What are you saying?" I asked him.

This didn't sound like him.

"I'm saying that I grew up with basketball," he answered, "Even if I don't go pro, athletic scholarships can take me to schools and give me opportunities I wouldn't have otherwise."

"Is that what everyone told you?" I asked him, feeling the hard wood under my fingernails as I held tightly onto the bench.

Layton, his father, his coach... everyone else. But what about you? I wanted to ask him.

"Why didn't you ask me?" I asked instead.

"You want me to follow my dreams," he answered, "But that was your advice when I hadn't told you everything yet."

I didn't realize how hard it had been for him to open up.

"Whenever I doubt it, I come here to a remind myself of how badly I wanted this," he said, leaning forwards and pressing his elbows against his knees. "It was almost taken away from me."

He was talking about his injury.

I tried to comfort him, "You say it like it's a bad thing, but you got what you wanted. This is your dream then."

"Maybe," he said, "But maybe it's a dream that isn't meant for me."

"I don't understand Zenon," I really wanted him to explain to me, to open up.

This vague notion of a dream he was talking about - do we know what we dream? Can reality ever be the dream?

"I thought I was invincible until this happened," he said, speaking slowly as if he wished he could unsay everything, "To fully recover, I need to avoid playing. I need to show up to these PT sessions and avoid putting pressure on my knees."

"But you're still playing," I said, "A lot."

"And I'm not fully recovered."

I think I finally understood. Zenon loves basketball and he's incredible to watch on court. He thrives on the action, on the game and on pushing himself to the limit. He has a limit.

For a boy who never thought his body would be a limitation, that must have crushed him.