Sin-bin

Chapter 6 - Marcial

My appointments with Shelia on Mondays come after my meeting with my 'sober coach' from the player's assistance program. He's less of a sober coach and more of a 'get you back into hockey' coach. Our meetings usually gauge how close I am to being able to play again. This Monday, he thinks that I could be ready to go in a couple of weeks. But we both know that Sehlia and my sponsor, David, have to write off that I'm good to be back on the road and shit before I can actually play. I don't know how either of those two feels about it, which makes this a bit more nerve-wracking. 

I hide myself again in a ball cap and a mask. The receptionist does her job of pretending like I don't look like a fucking idiot trying to hide. The waiting room is cold today, but it snowed last night, so that makes sense. 

Shortly after, Shelia came out and gave me that welcoming smile, saying, "Come on in! Let's talk about your hot mess of a life again!"

She sits in her comfy chair because I sit on the couch, rearranging the throw pillows like usual. Shelia gets situated in her chair with the clipboard and my page of notes resting in her lap before she smiles lightly at me. 

"So, what have you been up to since we last met?"

I sigh and cross my ankles, "Well, we had practice a couple of times and I went the gym. The PT there is pretty good and gave me a killer massage on my shoulders the other day. Went to AA every day, sometimes at night and sometimes in the afternoon. I got a haircut. Um, I had my first session with the person who's going to teach me art and painting."

Shelia visibly perks in her seat and nods enthusiastically, "That's great to hear! I'm glad the turnaround was fast. How was it?"

"Well, I don't know if you know, but I'm being taught by a college kid."

I blink in disbelief when Shelia nods, indicating that she knows, "Yes, my friend is a professor in painting and screen printing at DU. I assumed he would have someone who was a good fit. I also hoped it would be a student so that you can be around people closer to your age who aren't in hockey."

"He's like 20 at best!" I cry, "He looks like a high schooler. I mean, he was nice and all, but I don't think I should make new friends with college kids. Isn't it like the number one rule of college to drink your weight as much as humanly possible?"

"But you're not doing any activities in which a college kid would be drinking, are you?" I hate it when she tilts her head to the side and undermines my words with more factually correct words: "So there should be no risk of that. You are just learning how to paint."

"I guess," I grumbled, crossing my arms over my chest and looking down at my feet. It's like I'm the only one who sees how weird this is. 

"You said you met up? How did that go? Were you nervous?"

I shrug and pretend like I hadn't paced my apartment right before Dallas showed up, "I mean, yeah, I guess. Meeting new people is... scary." I frown at how I sound like a little kid. 

Shelia nods nonetheless, "Yeah, it is very scary, especially when you have nobody around to buffer for you. How do you deal with your nerves?"

"I don't know; I put on hockey and watched that for a little bit beforehand. I just kind of sat there and waited because it was too late to cancel on him, you know? I had to do this, and I couldn't make excuses to leave because it was my own apartment. So I...I don't know. I just forced myself to get through it."

She pauses to scribble something on my note sheet on the clipboard. Can't handle strangers. No coping mechanisms. Lying to me about drinking? 

"Do you think that was productive? I mean, do you think that did enough to calm your nerves and prepare you for what was ahead?"