Therapy
Watching
“So,” Dr. Bailey began, smiling at me, “tell me about your week.”
It was the same way she began every session, but I found myself pondering it more than I usually would. “It was, interesting,” I replied.
She raised one eyebrow at me in curiosity. “And why is that?”
Now that I knew Dr. Bailey was familiar with Kris, and had clearly pieced together that he and I already knew one another, it made me hesitant to want to share the full details of what was happening. I had to take a moment to choose my answer carefully, licking my lips as I did so. “One of my friends had a gathering at his house that I went to, and it was kind of odd for me. He and Evan were team mates for a brief time, as were all the other people there. I had kind of fallen out of contact with just about everyone at his house, and being forced to re-introduce myself to them all at once was intimidating.”
“Were they welcoming to you, or did they make it obvious that there was a resentment there?” She asked, tilting her head to the side a bit.
“The boys were fine. They wee more worried about saying something that may hurt my feelings then letting me know that I had hurt theirs. The girls were a little odder.”
Dr. Bailey nodded, a small smile appearing. “I’m sure you’re aware of this already, but females are far more emotional then males, and the ability to let go of past hurts is a greater challenge. Girls have more of a sponge-like mind then males, which is why studies point to them maturing faster and having a high IQ. But they also absorb the emotions felt at a specific time, and it’s easier for them to revert back to that moment then it is to let it go and move on. Males have a more ‘come and go’ approach to things. They hang on to the information they deem exciting, hence most husbands forgetting their wives birthdays and anniversaries.”
I made a bit of a face. “Now you’re going to fill my head with those stats, great.”
She only smiled again, adjusting herself in her chair. “Are you glad that you were re-introduced to those friends?”
“For sure,” I answered without a thought. “I used to be afraid of brining back pieces of my past, you know? All of those things that reminded me of Evan were things that I immediately pushed away. I didn’t even watch hockey for the first five months, it was just too much for me to handle, but I know that I can’t keep walls around me. I have to start letting those people back in.”
“No one ever healed by themselves, Katy,” Dr. Bailey said softly. “I say this to you often, I know, but you are truly handling this devastating loss with such strength and grace that I find myself amazed at times. To be capable of reaching back out to those close to Evan, accepting your own faults in that sense of aloneness and struggling to fix relationships just after the first year, it’s really an amazing trait. Please be aware of how strong you are.”
I smiled, suddenly feeling as if I might cry. “That means a lot to me, Dr. Bailey. Thank you.”
------------------------
Kris was playing a game that night, and despite how tired I felt from three piano lessons that day, as well as my car deciding to break down on the journey home, I plopped myself in front of the TV with a microwave dinner and watched.
When Evan wasn’t playing and was in town, which was more often then not with both of us working in Pittsburgh, we would watch Kris play together. Evan had this old white t-shirt that he used to wear in gym, and he had taken it and written “I WANNA BANG KRIS LETANG” across it with a black sharpie. He wore it to the first NHL game Kris was called up to play in, the tickets he was given being three rows behind the penalty box. I had gone with him, choosing to wear just a plain Penguins hoodie that Kris’ dad had given me, and we had stood up and clapped every time the puck touched Kris’ hockey stick. During intermissions, Kris would skate past the glass and look to us for our opinions on his last shift, always earning a thumbs up from both of us, even if he had been the cause of a turn-over. Evan and I were still in the process of figuring out where our relationship was going, the As Tall As Lions concert having been just two weeks earlier, and Kris was completely unaware of any change in the dynamics of the friendship. It was before Kris had grown resentful towards me, before Evan and I struggled with his busy schedule in the AHL, and before that fateful night when I received the phone call no girlfriend ever wanted to hear.
I wore the same sweatshirt as I sat on the couch, my legs crossed beneath me with the dish of warmed up fettuccini alfredo resting on top of them. They were playing the Rangers, a team that the Penguins always seemed to struggle against. I watched intently as they played, yelling my protests at the screen when Brandon Prust threw a high hit on Chris Kunitz, and shaking my head in disapproval as Marc Staal snuck in a shot to the back of James Neal’s head.
By mid-way through the second period, the Rangers were up 2-0, with Marc kneeling in the net shaking his head. The second goal had been a bad one, hitting the tip of his glove and dropping into the net behind him, giving one of the Pens least liked rivals, Ryan Callahan, his tenth goal of the young season. “Come on, Marc. That’s just one bad goal, you can keep the rest out,” I muttered, hoping that the words somehow found their way to him.
The camera panned out as one of the commentators spewed praises about Henrik Lundqvist over the air. My eyes scanned the players on the ice, seeking out 58 and staying there once he was found. Kris was off to the left near the centre ice line, his chin resting on the butt-end of his stick as he seemed to survey the ice. Sidney was talking things over with Pascal Dupuis and Chris Kunitz, the three of them desperate to get something going. The entire arena was silent, save for the sound of skates on the ice. The team had been fairly inconsistent so far, winning four straight and then losing two. It made it hard for the fans to gage their feelings towards the season, and the team was aware of that.
Sidney skated over to Kris, saying something to him quietly before Kris nodded, repeating the play back to him. A scuff in the ice to the side of Marc’s net had allowed a couple of minutes for Sidney to set-up an idea for the Pens on the ice, and I could see the fire in his eyes as he took to the face-off circle.
As soon as he had won control of the puck, Sidney faked a pass to Pascal Dupuis, bating Marian Gaborik enough that he could easily skate past him, carrying the puck. The mic’s on the ice picked up his scream to Kris, who was skating as hard and fast as he could, making sure that Brad Richards and Brandon Prust were still left behind. Brooks Orpik had made sure to Daniel Girardi was tied up, leaving the ice almost completely empty for Kris and Sidney.
Marc Staal was the lone defenceman, having picked up on Sidney’s pay idea and staying with him nearly the whole way. He was skating backwards, trying to follow all of his moves. Lundqvist was near the top of his crease, both of them seeming to pay more attention to Sidney then Kris.
With no warning to Staal, Sidney dropped the puck behind him, making it easy for Kris to pick back up. Marc Staal skidded, trying to throw himself in the shooting lane of Kris as soon as he saw the pass. Girardi had sprung loose from Orpik and was nearly caught up as well, trying to catch Sidney. Kris faked a shot, twice, the slapped the puck across to Sidney, who shot it in behind Lundqvist without hesitation.
The entire arena erupted into cheers, jumping to their feet. The team was still a goal behind, but you wouldn’t have picked that up from the crowd. It looked like it was a playoff atmosphere in there, and by the way Kris and Sidney tacked one another to the ice in celebration, you’d believe it, too.
Generally, watching the Penguins play made me glance beside me at the vacant spot on the couch, the pang of loneliness echoing through my chest as I longed for Evan.
But in that moment, as I stood up and cheered as loudly as the fans who were actually there, all I wished was that I was a part of it. That I was a part ofsomething.
------------------
The game was won 4-3 in overtime by the Rangers, the disappointment I felt baring no compare to the way it was slapped across each of the Penguins players faces, Marc’s especially. It had been a hard play that lost them the game. Craig Adams bobbled the puck while carrying it through centre, allowing Derek Stepan the chance to steal the puck and pass it across the ice to a speeding Brian Boyle, a sight not often seen. Boyle lost control of the puck just before he could actually shoot it, but Marc reached out to try and poke check, accidentally knocking the puck back on track. Deryk Engelland had skated back to try and break up the play, but as he slid to a stop, the puck hit his skate, bouncing off of Marc’s leg and into the goal, causing the arena to let out a collective gasp.
The look of despair on Marc’s face when he lifted his mask up to stare in disbelief at the puck was heart wrenching. It may have not have been an “important” game, but the loss seemed to hit the team harder then any previous ones had.
A good two hours after the game, I heard my cell phone going off. I was in the midst of crawling into my bed, my hair still wet from the shower I had freshly emerged from. I groaned, leaning away from the bed so I could grab my phone off of the charger and answer. “Hello?”
“Kaitlin,” Kris breathed, sounding as if he was still recovering from the intensity of the game. “How are you?”
I sat down on the edge of my bed, letting my feet lift up off of the floor from the height of the bed. “I’m fine. How are you?”
There was a pause, the only sound being his breathing. “Tired,” he finally said. “Did you see the game?”
“I did. I’m sorry it didn’t turn out the way you would have liked it to. You guys played so well, though. That first goal, the one Sid set you up for, that was amazing.”
“I’m glad you think so. Hopefully coach does, too,” he said, and by the tone of his voice, I could imagine a small smile there. “What are you doing tomorrow?” He asked.
I thought about it for a second, trying to remember the date. “Actually, I don’t believe that I’m doing anything. Why?”
Again, there was a pause. “I was planning on meeting Travis for lunch, we usually meet up on Thursdays,” he began, “but, Travis’ shifts have been switched, so he is no longer available. I know it’s silly, but I don’t like changing my routine, so I’ll be at the diner anyways, and I was thinking that maybe you would go too?”
I sucked my bottom lip into my mouth, biting down on it a bit. “Well…sure. Yeah, that’s fine. What time should I be there?”
“I can pick you up. Is one o’clock okay?” He asked.
“That’s fine. I guess I’ll see you then?” I asked.
“Yes. And Katy?” He asked, causing me to hum in response. “Thank you for watching the game. I know hockey was hard for you to pay attention to for awhile. I appreciate you paying attention to the team once more.”
“Well, those guys meant a lot to Evan, and to me. It would be heartless of me to ignore the team,” I reasoned. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Kris.”
“See you then, Kaitlin.”
It was the same way she began every session, but I found myself pondering it more than I usually would. “It was, interesting,” I replied.
She raised one eyebrow at me in curiosity. “And why is that?”
Now that I knew Dr. Bailey was familiar with Kris, and had clearly pieced together that he and I already knew one another, it made me hesitant to want to share the full details of what was happening. I had to take a moment to choose my answer carefully, licking my lips as I did so. “One of my friends had a gathering at his house that I went to, and it was kind of odd for me. He and Evan were team mates for a brief time, as were all the other people there. I had kind of fallen out of contact with just about everyone at his house, and being forced to re-introduce myself to them all at once was intimidating.”
“Were they welcoming to you, or did they make it obvious that there was a resentment there?” She asked, tilting her head to the side a bit.
“The boys were fine. They wee more worried about saying something that may hurt my feelings then letting me know that I had hurt theirs. The girls were a little odder.”
Dr. Bailey nodded, a small smile appearing. “I’m sure you’re aware of this already, but females are far more emotional then males, and the ability to let go of past hurts is a greater challenge. Girls have more of a sponge-like mind then males, which is why studies point to them maturing faster and having a high IQ. But they also absorb the emotions felt at a specific time, and it’s easier for them to revert back to that moment then it is to let it go and move on. Males have a more ‘come and go’ approach to things. They hang on to the information they deem exciting, hence most husbands forgetting their wives birthdays and anniversaries.”
I made a bit of a face. “Now you’re going to fill my head with those stats, great.”
She only smiled again, adjusting herself in her chair. “Are you glad that you were re-introduced to those friends?”
“For sure,” I answered without a thought. “I used to be afraid of brining back pieces of my past, you know? All of those things that reminded me of Evan were things that I immediately pushed away. I didn’t even watch hockey for the first five months, it was just too much for me to handle, but I know that I can’t keep walls around me. I have to start letting those people back in.”
“No one ever healed by themselves, Katy,” Dr. Bailey said softly. “I say this to you often, I know, but you are truly handling this devastating loss with such strength and grace that I find myself amazed at times. To be capable of reaching back out to those close to Evan, accepting your own faults in that sense of aloneness and struggling to fix relationships just after the first year, it’s really an amazing trait. Please be aware of how strong you are.”
I smiled, suddenly feeling as if I might cry. “That means a lot to me, Dr. Bailey. Thank you.”
------------------------
Kris was playing a game that night, and despite how tired I felt from three piano lessons that day, as well as my car deciding to break down on the journey home, I plopped myself in front of the TV with a microwave dinner and watched.
When Evan wasn’t playing and was in town, which was more often then not with both of us working in Pittsburgh, we would watch Kris play together. Evan had this old white t-shirt that he used to wear in gym, and he had taken it and written “I WANNA BANG KRIS LETANG” across it with a black sharpie. He wore it to the first NHL game Kris was called up to play in, the tickets he was given being three rows behind the penalty box. I had gone with him, choosing to wear just a plain Penguins hoodie that Kris’ dad had given me, and we had stood up and clapped every time the puck touched Kris’ hockey stick. During intermissions, Kris would skate past the glass and look to us for our opinions on his last shift, always earning a thumbs up from both of us, even if he had been the cause of a turn-over. Evan and I were still in the process of figuring out where our relationship was going, the As Tall As Lions concert having been just two weeks earlier, and Kris was completely unaware of any change in the dynamics of the friendship. It was before Kris had grown resentful towards me, before Evan and I struggled with his busy schedule in the AHL, and before that fateful night when I received the phone call no girlfriend ever wanted to hear.
I wore the same sweatshirt as I sat on the couch, my legs crossed beneath me with the dish of warmed up fettuccini alfredo resting on top of them. They were playing the Rangers, a team that the Penguins always seemed to struggle against. I watched intently as they played, yelling my protests at the screen when Brandon Prust threw a high hit on Chris Kunitz, and shaking my head in disapproval as Marc Staal snuck in a shot to the back of James Neal’s head.
By mid-way through the second period, the Rangers were up 2-0, with Marc kneeling in the net shaking his head. The second goal had been a bad one, hitting the tip of his glove and dropping into the net behind him, giving one of the Pens least liked rivals, Ryan Callahan, his tenth goal of the young season. “Come on, Marc. That’s just one bad goal, you can keep the rest out,” I muttered, hoping that the words somehow found their way to him.
The camera panned out as one of the commentators spewed praises about Henrik Lundqvist over the air. My eyes scanned the players on the ice, seeking out 58 and staying there once he was found. Kris was off to the left near the centre ice line, his chin resting on the butt-end of his stick as he seemed to survey the ice. Sidney was talking things over with Pascal Dupuis and Chris Kunitz, the three of them desperate to get something going. The entire arena was silent, save for the sound of skates on the ice. The team had been fairly inconsistent so far, winning four straight and then losing two. It made it hard for the fans to gage their feelings towards the season, and the team was aware of that.
Sidney skated over to Kris, saying something to him quietly before Kris nodded, repeating the play back to him. A scuff in the ice to the side of Marc’s net had allowed a couple of minutes for Sidney to set-up an idea for the Pens on the ice, and I could see the fire in his eyes as he took to the face-off circle.
As soon as he had won control of the puck, Sidney faked a pass to Pascal Dupuis, bating Marian Gaborik enough that he could easily skate past him, carrying the puck. The mic’s on the ice picked up his scream to Kris, who was skating as hard and fast as he could, making sure that Brad Richards and Brandon Prust were still left behind. Brooks Orpik had made sure to Daniel Girardi was tied up, leaving the ice almost completely empty for Kris and Sidney.
Marc Staal was the lone defenceman, having picked up on Sidney’s pay idea and staying with him nearly the whole way. He was skating backwards, trying to follow all of his moves. Lundqvist was near the top of his crease, both of them seeming to pay more attention to Sidney then Kris.
With no warning to Staal, Sidney dropped the puck behind him, making it easy for Kris to pick back up. Marc Staal skidded, trying to throw himself in the shooting lane of Kris as soon as he saw the pass. Girardi had sprung loose from Orpik and was nearly caught up as well, trying to catch Sidney. Kris faked a shot, twice, the slapped the puck across to Sidney, who shot it in behind Lundqvist without hesitation.
The entire arena erupted into cheers, jumping to their feet. The team was still a goal behind, but you wouldn’t have picked that up from the crowd. It looked like it was a playoff atmosphere in there, and by the way Kris and Sidney tacked one another to the ice in celebration, you’d believe it, too.
Generally, watching the Penguins play made me glance beside me at the vacant spot on the couch, the pang of loneliness echoing through my chest as I longed for Evan.
But in that moment, as I stood up and cheered as loudly as the fans who were actually there, all I wished was that I was a part of it. That I was a part ofsomething.
------------------
The game was won 4-3 in overtime by the Rangers, the disappointment I felt baring no compare to the way it was slapped across each of the Penguins players faces, Marc’s especially. It had been a hard play that lost them the game. Craig Adams bobbled the puck while carrying it through centre, allowing Derek Stepan the chance to steal the puck and pass it across the ice to a speeding Brian Boyle, a sight not often seen. Boyle lost control of the puck just before he could actually shoot it, but Marc reached out to try and poke check, accidentally knocking the puck back on track. Deryk Engelland had skated back to try and break up the play, but as he slid to a stop, the puck hit his skate, bouncing off of Marc’s leg and into the goal, causing the arena to let out a collective gasp.
The look of despair on Marc’s face when he lifted his mask up to stare in disbelief at the puck was heart wrenching. It may have not have been an “important” game, but the loss seemed to hit the team harder then any previous ones had.
A good two hours after the game, I heard my cell phone going off. I was in the midst of crawling into my bed, my hair still wet from the shower I had freshly emerged from. I groaned, leaning away from the bed so I could grab my phone off of the charger and answer. “Hello?”
“Kaitlin,” Kris breathed, sounding as if he was still recovering from the intensity of the game. “How are you?”
I sat down on the edge of my bed, letting my feet lift up off of the floor from the height of the bed. “I’m fine. How are you?”
There was a pause, the only sound being his breathing. “Tired,” he finally said. “Did you see the game?”
“I did. I’m sorry it didn’t turn out the way you would have liked it to. You guys played so well, though. That first goal, the one Sid set you up for, that was amazing.”
“I’m glad you think so. Hopefully coach does, too,” he said, and by the tone of his voice, I could imagine a small smile there. “What are you doing tomorrow?” He asked.
I thought about it for a second, trying to remember the date. “Actually, I don’t believe that I’m doing anything. Why?”
Again, there was a pause. “I was planning on meeting Travis for lunch, we usually meet up on Thursdays,” he began, “but, Travis’ shifts have been switched, so he is no longer available. I know it’s silly, but I don’t like changing my routine, so I’ll be at the diner anyways, and I was thinking that maybe you would go too?”
I sucked my bottom lip into my mouth, biting down on it a bit. “Well…sure. Yeah, that’s fine. What time should I be there?”
“I can pick you up. Is one o’clock okay?” He asked.
“That’s fine. I guess I’ll see you then?” I asked.
“Yes. And Katy?” He asked, causing me to hum in response. “Thank you for watching the game. I know hockey was hard for you to pay attention to for awhile. I appreciate you paying attention to the team once more.”
“Well, those guys meant a lot to Evan, and to me. It would be heartless of me to ignore the team,” I reasoned. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Kris.”
“See you then, Kaitlin.”
I Love this story!
4/7/14