Together is Where We are Meant to Be

Chapter 5

The game progressed quickly, for me at least. I was snapping priceless moments with my Olympus Camera from the press box on the far side of the ice compared to the benches of either team. I had no glass in my way, which was really helpful when considering the awful glare some photographers experience. I was just happy that the Slasher's allowed me to have a seat here.

At the end of the first period, the Slasher's had a stable lead of 2-0. Micah had one of the goals and assisted on the other. I did catch one of his breakaways on film and decided that I would store it away for personal use, which I sometimes did. The Slasher's never put anything in the contract that said that if I did not turn over every picture that I would be reprimanded, so the ones I did not turn over, I kept for myself, or rather, for Micah.

The second period started out much like the first in the fact that we controlled the puck an awful lot. It went from Micah to his line mates – Josh Tagger, Christian Riggs, Perry Lewis, and Michael Williams – for most of the period since they were the number one line. Other guys made a few attacks and drew some penalties out of the visiting Portland Panthers team members. Overall, the game was interesting and easy to watch for a hockey lover like myself. But all good things must come to an end.

The moment my camera's shutter clicked to a halt was the moment I stopped breathing. Micah had been elbowed into the Plexiglas divider between the benches by none other than Max Baxter, the one guy everyone was supposed to avoid tonight on the ice. He has injured more than 30 people in his career and I guess that number just increased by one more.

It was Micah's head that suffered the blow. He fell to the ice not moving. I heard gasps from the crowd before I could take my eyes off my best friend and boyfriend. They ended up ejecting Baxter for all of his penalties in combination with the elbow he threw at Micah who still lie on the ice, still not moving any extremity of his body. The trainers were surrounding him now, but I knew he was unconscious. It is just one of those things that a best friend knows about the other. We are connected in a weird way that told me that he was not okay.

"Sydney," I heard a voice in front of me and I snapped out of my stare to face Micah's line mate Tagger. "They are taking him off the ice and straight to a bus, you should go with. You are his family," I swallowed hard at his words and nodded, barely noticing the tears that seemed to be falling in streams down my cheeks. I smiled lightly and packed up my stuff before heading directly to my office to lock up my camera before racing back to the locker room to find them just bringing Micah in and to the ambulance bay.

"Has he regained consciousness?" I let out as I followed them.

"No, Ma'am. What is your relationship to Mr. Stevens?"

"He's my fiancé, please, let me ride with you. I won't make it there on my own," I half-truthfully replied. The man nodded and they loaded him in before offering me a hand up.

I held his hand for the entire ride. He awoke once and immediately groaned in pain when he tried to move. The EMT gave him medication that let him fall asleep with less pain. I just let some tears fall silently and held his hand tightly. When we arrived at the ambulance bay of the Pittsburgh Mercy General, I was instructed to get out and wait for them to unload Micah. A group of doctors were waiting right inside the doors.

"What's the update?" a male doctor in a white lab coat asked as he whipped a stethoscope from around his neck to his ears and Micah's chest. He was taller and dark skinned, but not completely African American. He reached under the padding and jersey to check his heart beat. I realized then that either the doctor watched the game on his break or the EMTs had called ahead with the condition Micah was in. I would never find the answer to which it was though.