Dr. Nugent was encouraging after he examined the new set of X rays. “This is about as good as we could have hoped for.” “Great. When can I pitch?” The doctor smiled. “Not so fast. Let’s talk about some rehabilitation first.” “Okay, I’m listening.” As eager as Coley was, Dr. Nugent was all the way down the line by the book. Having removed the cast, he used his fingertips to probe the damaged ankle, which was white and stubbled like an old man who needed a shave. “Is there a whirlpool in the locker room at your high school?” Coley grunted: “Yeah.” Occasionally there were twinges of pain when the doctor pressed hard, but nothing acute. On the front of the ankle was a small greenish bruise about the size of a quarter. Bree was holding his arm when she wasn’t gripping his hand. Coley wondered if Dr. Nugent thought it was weird, her being with him. We must look like some lame and out-of-luck couple sucking up to a doctor for fertility drugs. Dr. Nugent gave him a plastic walking cast that was held in place by Velcro strips.
