Chapter 16

Disclaimer: Inspired by real life events but taking a lot of liberties with it.

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Lukasz POV

The hotel bed is cold when I flop on it. I am nowhere near tired enough for sleep, but with the day I am sure to have tomorrow, I should try my best to get some rest. If I am to convince both Dr. Braun and the specialist that I can delay this surgery three more weeks, I need to be at the top of my game tomorrow. I can’t lie about the X-rays or the MRIs, but I can play down every diagnostic test they might do, show them I can do it...

That was the plan anyway... I would not let anything keep me from that game, but I needed her... And she offered it to me, her support. She said she’d back me up on this... that was, of course, before I ruined everything.

I can’t believe I was so careless. I’ve always been able to keep my composure around her, but tonight... it all felt so intimate, so... right, just perfect. It was exactly what I needed in so many ways, and I ruined it — I moved in too soon. She was evidently not ready, and frankly I don’t know if she ever will be.

There’s too much history between them, and it would obviously hurt too much. I should have given her more time to get over Mats.

How could I be so selfish?!

She kissed me back though... she did.

My hands cover my face as I reminisce our moment.

I’ve thought about kissing her, probably more than I’d ever be comfortable admitting, but never in my wildest dreams did I imagine her taking the initiative that way. I was working so hard, trying so hard, to be gentle, to reign myself in, but when she pulled me to her, she tore me in two.

I can’t say I didn’t expect her to stop me. I knew it was coming; it still didn’t make it any easier to bear.

I turn in my bed with a groan, pulling my phone from my pocket and staring at the black screen.

I don’t know how I will be able to act around her anymore — to pretend that she doesn’t completely own me, that I won’t hurt from not having her.

The hours pass and the phone becomes heavier in my hand, dense with the possibility of talking to her — of clearing things up — or maybe just forgetting the whole thing happened.

I will never forget that kiss, though. I couldn’t even if I wanted to.

So I wait — even when I know it's completely unreasonable that she'd be up this late, or that if she was, she'd text me — It doesn't matter, I still wait.

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My room’s been bright with the sunshine coming through the window for a couple of hours now, when my phone vibrates with a text from Dr. Braun asking me to be ready in an hour. I’m flat on my bed, phone in hand, still in last night’s clothes.

Cecilia never called.

I shower and get ready monotonously, my brain swimming, dreading to have to do this today of all days.

How much difference does one night make...

Yesterday I was feeling so strong, ready for today to come so I could finally get cleared to play for the final. Today I feel spent, physically and mentally. I can only hope for the feeling of failure to fade away before I make it to the surgeon’s office. Otherwise, I’m doomed.

How can I not feel like a failure though? I’ve ruined every possibility of having Cecilia in my life — as a friend, as something more — it’s all gone. I needed her for this. I do need her. Not just anyone, her. It has to be her. I feel strong when I’m with her, invincible, like I could play three finals in a row with one leg... with her, for her.

Fuck, I’m just so tired...

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The facilities at the OCM Clinic in Munich are quite impressive. A complete hospital dedicated to orthopedic surgery with a rehab center up to par with the top 10 in the world. I wish this made me feel a little better.

Most of the talk during my appointment goes on between Dr. Braun and the surgeon, Dr. Albach. They look at my scans and x-rays from the past few months, and Braun recounts the evolution of my injury.

I sit quietly on the examining table, mentally preparing myself for what is sure to come — the physical tests. I’ve done them all before, I know when it’s supposed to hurt, and it helps me to prepare.

However, when I’m lying on that table and he’s twisting my leg up and down while pressing here and there, it fucking hurts. I hold it in as much as I can, trying to breathe through it, but I am still quite disappointed at myself when he’s done.

I wish Cecilia would have been here.

“Lukasz,” Albach starts as I sit up. “I’ll admit, your range of motion is impressive for the amount of damage the scan shows... Still, I am very sorry to tell you, you shouldn’t be playing like this.”

“We already knew that, Doc.” My tone comes out rough in annoyance. I’m usually never this rude, and I am very sorry, but I am exhausted. The tests he performed have left me in pain, pain I can’t show… pain I refuse to show — The worst kind of pain. Well, second worst, actually. “I know I shouldn’t play. The question is can I, and you both know I can.”

“You need to fully grasp the risks of the choice you’re making,” Braun starts.

Here we go...

“I can have you ready for that surgery tomorrow,” Albach chips in.

“No-” I try, but he keeps going.

“Best case scenario, everything goes well, and you are out for about three months. That puts you back in training beginning of the next season.”

I shake my head, and Braun speaks up. “The longer you continue to play like this, the more damage will be done, and the longer rehab will take.”

“We’re talking you possibly missing the whole first half of next season,” Albach adds.

At this my eyes peek up and shift from Braun to Albach and back.

When I think about being out that long...

I can’t...

Shit, I need to get out of here before they talk me out of the final.

I shake my head in denial and start buttoning my shirt.

Braun leaves the room, and Dr. Albach comes closer to me, puts a hand on my shoulder. “You’ve done everything you could, Lukasz, but delaying this surgery further is very risky. You’ve proven to us that you can do it, but it won’t come without severe consequences.”

I block his words out.

No, no, no, no.

Braun comes back in, cell phone in hand. “Klopp,” he announces, handing me the phone.

Shit... I can’t have Klopp trying to convince me too! If he asks me not to play, how do I reason with him? He wouldn’t ask me though, would he?

“Coach-” I begin, but he cuts me off.

“Piszczu, I can’t ask you to do this,” is what he says.

I can sense it in his tone, he’s worried about me. But he knows... he knows what this means to me.

Klopp and I have a very special relationship. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for him. I trust his judgment 100%. I value him as a person, a coach, a mentor. I wouldn’t be where I am professionally without him. He’s given his life to this club. In the five years I’ve known him, he’s never even taken a vacation.

The effort he’s put into this...

Everyone, really... the whole team... we’ve all worked so hard.

I am nowhere near the “star” of the team, nor do I want to be, but my job on the right flank is important, and we have no one that can cover that position on the bench, not against Franck Ribéry.

How can I leave them now when we are so close?

“Coach, you don’t have to.”

If I have this surgery now, miss the final, and they don’t make it. How can I live with that?

I can’t, I’m taking the risk. I have to.

I’ll deal with the consequences the best I can afterward.

“Are you sure?” Klopp asks.

“Positive,” I say at once.

“Okay, put Braun back on.”

I hand the phone back to Braun with a smug, I-told-you-so nod. Not much is said after that.

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There is at least an hour before I have to leave for my flight when I make it back to my hotel room. I flop on the bed, completely spent, as my body begs me for at least a few minutes of rest. As soon as I close my eyes, though, my phone rings.

The screen reveals Cecilia’s number.

Shit...

No...

I can’t do this right now. I’m not strong enough to face her, to tell her I’m fine, to say goodbye to her. I’ve already had to pretend for the doctors today. There’s no way I have anything left in me to pretend for her too.

I can’t...

I groan, burying the phone under one of the pillows and covering my face with the other one.

Please, please, please...

When the ringing stops, I exhale in relief, only to groan again as the ringing recommences.

“Hello?”

“I need to talk to you before you leave,” she says, straight to the point.

“Cecilia, it’s fine. Please, forget it happened.”

“I’m coming over,” she states decidedly. It doesn’t sound like she’ll take no for an answer.

“I’m leaving soon.” I still try.

“I don’t care. I’m almost there, okay?” She sounds a bit out of breath, is she running all the way over here?

“Cecilia-”

“I’m almost there, Lukasz, please?” her tone is desperate and it undoes me completely.

I sigh in defeat, I’m being an asshole to her when this mess is nothing but my fault.

“Just wait for me, okay? Five minutes,” she pleads.

“Okay,” I say and she hangs up after a quick thank you.

I sit up on the edge of the bed, my hands on my face. I have no idea what Cecilia is on her way over here to say or do, all I know is I need to get myself together to say goodbye to her for good.

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