Therapy
Slow Motion
Marc-Andre Fleury could only be ignored for so long before he showed up at my apartment door, his trademark grin on his face. “Hi.”
I sighed, leaning against the doorway tiredly. “What are you doing here?”
He gave a small shrug, peering past me to see into the apartment. “I called you last night, but you didn’t answer, and you also did not answer my calls last week.” His eyes moved back to my face and he leaned in a bit, trying to seem intimidating. “I will not be ignored, Katy.”
I shook my head at him, allowing him to step into the apartment finally and shutting the door behind him. “So, what would you like to talk about?” I asked, taking a seat on the couch.
Marc sat across from me, running his hands along the couch cushion. “This is a nice couch,” he said aloud, grinning at me. “I just want to make sure that you are okay. You know, we used to be friends, a little. It’s not fair that you just have no one now.”
“I have Sara,” I reminded him, smiling slightly as he rolled his eyes. “Its just hard to see the people he played hockey with. I don’t know why, it just is. I guess because, when he wasn’t here with me, he was on the ice with you, and there’s a part of me that’s still jealous about it.”
“See, you’re opening up to me!” Marc exclaimed, raising his hands up. “This is wonderful!”
I had to let out a small laugh, watching him as he fist pumped a few times before stretching himself over to me so we could high-five.
Marc stretched himself out on the couch a little more, lifting up his legs to fill up the empty space and then turning on his side so he could still face me. “Kristopher talked to you, right?”
I raised an eyebrow up at him. “Wow, full name?”
Marc smirked at me. “Come on, Kaitlin. Did it go well?”
“Not really,” I admitted, my eyes investing themselves in the coffee stain on my leg. “He told me that he had pissed Evan off right before he got in his car, told me that a part of him has hated me for the last couple of years, and then apologized.”
“And you replied by…?”
I lifted my eyes up to look at him. “I left.”
Marc covered his face with his hands dramatically, letting out a loud groan. “Katy! How do you fix something when you leave?”
“There’s nothing to fix,” I replied. “Kris and I haven’t been friends for a long time now, and he’s hardly around anyways. Once the season is over, he’ll be back in Sainte-Julie and I’ll be here.” I sighed, leaning back a bit in the couch and looking over at Marc’s nervous face.
“Katy, there’s something you should know-”
“I already know thathe’s in love with me,” I interrupted. “And I don’t know what has made him believe that, but he doesn’t actually love me, so it doesn’t matter.”
Marc was silent for a moment before he twisted himself so that he was sitting on the couch once more, studying my face for a moment before he yelled, “He’s in love with you?!”
I let out a groan. “You didn’t know?”
“Oh my goodness, this explains so much!” He continued, still yelling.
“Flower, can you take it down a notch? I don’t want to get a noise complaint against me,” I said, covering my ears.
Marc grinned sheepishly. “Sorry, I was just excited to be in on a secret.” He took a few seconds to think before gasping, standing up and pointing at me. “You should come to our game tonight.”
“What?” I asked, almost laughing. “No way. Marc, I haven’t even able to watch a full game of hockey since Evan died, and after learning about Kris, I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“It’s a great idea, and it‘s only a preseason game, so most of the familiar faces won‘t be there,” he insisted, already heading out towards the door. “I’ll have your tickets waiting at the box office. Bring Sara! Bring a sign that says something nice about me,” He pulled the door open, turning to grin at me again. “See you then.”
I stood up from the couch. "Hey, what were you going to tell me?"
He paused, turning to look at me. "Hmmm?"
"You said, 'Katy, there's something you should know'," I repeated, lowering my voice to imitate his, "and never said what it was. What was it?"
He grinned. "Oh, that's not important right now." He walked out the door, peaking his head back in to yell, "See you at the game!"
---------------------
“This is a bad idea.” I said to Sara, shivering in my seat.
“I told you to bring a heavier sweater,” she replied, taking a bite out of a mini-donut.
“I’m not talking about how cold I am, I mean being here. I can’t handle this,” I told her.
Sara sighed. “Katy, you can’t just ignore everything that reminds you of Evan. You’ll be living in an empty world then.”
I felt my eyebrows lift up in surprise. “That was a very meaningful point, Sara. Have you started reading?”
She laughed. “No, I’m just naturally intuitive.” She glanced back out the ice, where the players were lining up for the first face-off. “Shouldn’t you want to be around the things that remind you of Evan? I mean, not to sound morbid, but isn’t that all you have of him now?”
I was almost dumbfounded by the question, realizing that Sara had a point. Evan’s life had been dedicated to hockey, and even though he had never been able to set foot on the hockey world’s biggest stage, he lived and breathed for the game. On his free nights, he was at a game, whether it be a Penguins or just a local kids team, he wanted to watch. He would tell me about the standings in the NHL, giving me detailed explanations on how every goal that had been scored the night before happened, and had embedded the names of the greats in my head. I wanted to believe that Evan was most alive when he was with me, but I knew that that was not true; Evan was most alive when he was on the ice, or around the game.
By the time I had shaken myself from the reminders, the game had begun. The Penguins were taking on the Ottawa Senators, a team that I didn’t know an awful lot about, and there was already a stop in play. Guillaume Latendresse and Brooks Orpik were tangled behind the net, both of them shoving at one another, but neither one willing to drop the gloves.
Both linesmen were trying to pry the two of them apart, only managing to do so when the threat of a penalty was uttered. Orpik swatted at the back of Latendresse's helmet as he was being pulled away, a move that seemed to infuriate the rest of the Senators and send a spark of energy throughout the rest of the building.
“What started this?” I asked Sara, having to raise my voice to be heard over the yells of the crowd, almost everyone standing as a mob of shoving ensued, everyone determined to knock their opposition over.
“One of the Sens bumped Fleury. I’m not sure which one,” She yelled back.
I nodded, watching as Sidney Crosby grabbed the back of Chris Kunitz’s jersey and pulled him away from Daniel Alfredsson, seeming incredibly unimpressed with the way the team was behaving. Marc was standing in the crease, his mask up and resting on his face as he watched the whole ordeal with a bemused smirk on his face, seeming more entertained by the events than worried.
Kris was away from all of the commotion, watching it at the blue line, just a few feet from the rest of the team on the bench, all of them hanging over the edge and screaming at the ref for not giving an interference call. He seemed stoic, watching the whole thing unfold without seeming to move a muscle in his body. I was beginning to worry that he wasn’t even breathing, when he suddenly snapped.
In a blur of black and white, Kris was in the middle of the pile, grabbing whichever one of the Senators he could and dragging him away from the pile.
I stood up, trying to see if I could catch a glimpse of which player it was. I managed to see 25 on the sleeve of his jersey, my mind racing back to the roster of the Sens, trying to remember what Evan had said about 25 on the Senators. It was so long ago, I could hardly even remember the conversation.
”He’s a dick.”
I glanced up at the TV, frowning. “Which one?”
Evan laughed, “Really? There’s two people in the shot right now. One is bleeding and one is laughing.”
I almost blushed, only then realizing that it was true. “So, the red guy is a dick?”
“He’s a decent player, I’ll give him that, but he plays the agitator role more then the scoring role.” He sighed, scratching the top of his head. “He’s a damn good fighter though, I’ll give him that.”
I leaned in closer to the TV, squinting a bit. “Who is he? I can only see the number.”
“25,” Evan muttered, lifting up his cup of coffee to take a sip before muttering, “Chris fucking Neil.”
“Oh dear God, tell me he’s not trying to fight Chris Neil,” I yelled, standing up on my tip-toes so I could see over the head of the guy in front of me.
Sara looked as worried as I did. By this time, the rest of the players on the ice had grown tired, and the whole fight was almost over when Kris lunged at all of them and snagged Neil, grabbing him by the front of the jersey and shoving him at the net, causing Marc to move off to the side.
There was a blur of motions. First, Kris’ gloves went flying, followed by Neil’s. Then, both of their helmets were ripped off, and then, the fists started flying. Both were faking left and then throwing rights. Neil grabbed a hold of Kris’ jersey and landed a punch on the side of his face, knocking Kris off of his balance for a moment. He gained it back and threw an upper left cut at Neil, catching him by surprise, and managed to land another punch with his right hand. Neil’s head flew to the side, and he collapsed against the net, his arms managing to stop him from falling over completely.
I assumed the fight was over, as did the rest of the crowd. Neil looked dazed, his body seeming lifeless for a few seconds. Kris seemed to take in a deep breath of air, the rage still evident in his face as he lifted a hand to push his hair out of his face.
Chris Neil wasn’t out of the fight, though. He was surprised by the second hit from Kris, but he was in no way beaten. He had pushed himself off of the net, regained his balance, and in slow-motion I watched as he brought his fist back, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth as did so, and brought it back as fast as he could.
Kris seemed to realize that Neil was back up too late, even though I could see Marc screaming at him. He tried to get his hand up to block the hit in time, but the sudden motion somehow propelled him forward, causing him to meet Neil’s fist sooner than he would have.
The entire crowd was silenced as Kris was knocked backwards, leaving even more room for the sound of his head smashing into the ice to carry through the arena.
I sighed, leaning against the doorway tiredly. “What are you doing here?”
He gave a small shrug, peering past me to see into the apartment. “I called you last night, but you didn’t answer, and you also did not answer my calls last week.” His eyes moved back to my face and he leaned in a bit, trying to seem intimidating. “I will not be ignored, Katy.”
I shook my head at him, allowing him to step into the apartment finally and shutting the door behind him. “So, what would you like to talk about?” I asked, taking a seat on the couch.
Marc sat across from me, running his hands along the couch cushion. “This is a nice couch,” he said aloud, grinning at me. “I just want to make sure that you are okay. You know, we used to be friends, a little. It’s not fair that you just have no one now.”
“I have Sara,” I reminded him, smiling slightly as he rolled his eyes. “Its just hard to see the people he played hockey with. I don’t know why, it just is. I guess because, when he wasn’t here with me, he was on the ice with you, and there’s a part of me that’s still jealous about it.”
“See, you’re opening up to me!” Marc exclaimed, raising his hands up. “This is wonderful!”
I had to let out a small laugh, watching him as he fist pumped a few times before stretching himself over to me so we could high-five.
Marc stretched himself out on the couch a little more, lifting up his legs to fill up the empty space and then turning on his side so he could still face me. “Kristopher talked to you, right?”
I raised an eyebrow up at him. “Wow, full name?”
Marc smirked at me. “Come on, Kaitlin. Did it go well?”
“Not really,” I admitted, my eyes investing themselves in the coffee stain on my leg. “He told me that he had pissed Evan off right before he got in his car, told me that a part of him has hated me for the last couple of years, and then apologized.”
“And you replied by…?”
I lifted my eyes up to look at him. “I left.”
Marc covered his face with his hands dramatically, letting out a loud groan. “Katy! How do you fix something when you leave?”
“There’s nothing to fix,” I replied. “Kris and I haven’t been friends for a long time now, and he’s hardly around anyways. Once the season is over, he’ll be back in Sainte-Julie and I’ll be here.” I sighed, leaning back a bit in the couch and looking over at Marc’s nervous face.
“Katy, there’s something you should know-”
“I already know thathe’s in love with me,” I interrupted. “And I don’t know what has made him believe that, but he doesn’t actually love me, so it doesn’t matter.”
Marc was silent for a moment before he twisted himself so that he was sitting on the couch once more, studying my face for a moment before he yelled, “He’s in love with you?!”
I let out a groan. “You didn’t know?”
“Oh my goodness, this explains so much!” He continued, still yelling.
“Flower, can you take it down a notch? I don’t want to get a noise complaint against me,” I said, covering my ears.
Marc grinned sheepishly. “Sorry, I was just excited to be in on a secret.” He took a few seconds to think before gasping, standing up and pointing at me. “You should come to our game tonight.”
“What?” I asked, almost laughing. “No way. Marc, I haven’t even able to watch a full game of hockey since Evan died, and after learning about Kris, I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“It’s a great idea, and it‘s only a preseason game, so most of the familiar faces won‘t be there,” he insisted, already heading out towards the door. “I’ll have your tickets waiting at the box office. Bring Sara! Bring a sign that says something nice about me,” He pulled the door open, turning to grin at me again. “See you then.”
I stood up from the couch. "Hey, what were you going to tell me?"
He paused, turning to look at me. "Hmmm?"
"You said, 'Katy, there's something you should know'," I repeated, lowering my voice to imitate his, "and never said what it was. What was it?"
He grinned. "Oh, that's not important right now." He walked out the door, peaking his head back in to yell, "See you at the game!"
---------------------
“This is a bad idea.” I said to Sara, shivering in my seat.
“I told you to bring a heavier sweater,” she replied, taking a bite out of a mini-donut.
“I’m not talking about how cold I am, I mean being here. I can’t handle this,” I told her.
Sara sighed. “Katy, you can’t just ignore everything that reminds you of Evan. You’ll be living in an empty world then.”
I felt my eyebrows lift up in surprise. “That was a very meaningful point, Sara. Have you started reading?”
She laughed. “No, I’m just naturally intuitive.” She glanced back out the ice, where the players were lining up for the first face-off. “Shouldn’t you want to be around the things that remind you of Evan? I mean, not to sound morbid, but isn’t that all you have of him now?”
I was almost dumbfounded by the question, realizing that Sara had a point. Evan’s life had been dedicated to hockey, and even though he had never been able to set foot on the hockey world’s biggest stage, he lived and breathed for the game. On his free nights, he was at a game, whether it be a Penguins or just a local kids team, he wanted to watch. He would tell me about the standings in the NHL, giving me detailed explanations on how every goal that had been scored the night before happened, and had embedded the names of the greats in my head. I wanted to believe that Evan was most alive when he was with me, but I knew that that was not true; Evan was most alive when he was on the ice, or around the game.
By the time I had shaken myself from the reminders, the game had begun. The Penguins were taking on the Ottawa Senators, a team that I didn’t know an awful lot about, and there was already a stop in play. Guillaume Latendresse and Brooks Orpik were tangled behind the net, both of them shoving at one another, but neither one willing to drop the gloves.
Both linesmen were trying to pry the two of them apart, only managing to do so when the threat of a penalty was uttered. Orpik swatted at the back of Latendresse's helmet as he was being pulled away, a move that seemed to infuriate the rest of the Senators and send a spark of energy throughout the rest of the building.
“What started this?” I asked Sara, having to raise my voice to be heard over the yells of the crowd, almost everyone standing as a mob of shoving ensued, everyone determined to knock their opposition over.
“One of the Sens bumped Fleury. I’m not sure which one,” She yelled back.
I nodded, watching as Sidney Crosby grabbed the back of Chris Kunitz’s jersey and pulled him away from Daniel Alfredsson, seeming incredibly unimpressed with the way the team was behaving. Marc was standing in the crease, his mask up and resting on his face as he watched the whole ordeal with a bemused smirk on his face, seeming more entertained by the events than worried.
Kris was away from all of the commotion, watching it at the blue line, just a few feet from the rest of the team on the bench, all of them hanging over the edge and screaming at the ref for not giving an interference call. He seemed stoic, watching the whole thing unfold without seeming to move a muscle in his body. I was beginning to worry that he wasn’t even breathing, when he suddenly snapped.
In a blur of black and white, Kris was in the middle of the pile, grabbing whichever one of the Senators he could and dragging him away from the pile.
I stood up, trying to see if I could catch a glimpse of which player it was. I managed to see 25 on the sleeve of his jersey, my mind racing back to the roster of the Sens, trying to remember what Evan had said about 25 on the Senators. It was so long ago, I could hardly even remember the conversation.
”He’s a dick.”
I glanced up at the TV, frowning. “Which one?”
Evan laughed, “Really? There’s two people in the shot right now. One is bleeding and one is laughing.”
I almost blushed, only then realizing that it was true. “So, the red guy is a dick?”
“He’s a decent player, I’ll give him that, but he plays the agitator role more then the scoring role.” He sighed, scratching the top of his head. “He’s a damn good fighter though, I’ll give him that.”
I leaned in closer to the TV, squinting a bit. “Who is he? I can only see the number.”
“25,” Evan muttered, lifting up his cup of coffee to take a sip before muttering, “Chris fucking Neil.”
“Oh dear God, tell me he’s not trying to fight Chris Neil,” I yelled, standing up on my tip-toes so I could see over the head of the guy in front of me.
Sara looked as worried as I did. By this time, the rest of the players on the ice had grown tired, and the whole fight was almost over when Kris lunged at all of them and snagged Neil, grabbing him by the front of the jersey and shoving him at the net, causing Marc to move off to the side.
There was a blur of motions. First, Kris’ gloves went flying, followed by Neil’s. Then, both of their helmets were ripped off, and then, the fists started flying. Both were faking left and then throwing rights. Neil grabbed a hold of Kris’ jersey and landed a punch on the side of his face, knocking Kris off of his balance for a moment. He gained it back and threw an upper left cut at Neil, catching him by surprise, and managed to land another punch with his right hand. Neil’s head flew to the side, and he collapsed against the net, his arms managing to stop him from falling over completely.
I assumed the fight was over, as did the rest of the crowd. Neil looked dazed, his body seeming lifeless for a few seconds. Kris seemed to take in a deep breath of air, the rage still evident in his face as he lifted a hand to push his hair out of his face.
Chris Neil wasn’t out of the fight, though. He was surprised by the second hit from Kris, but he was in no way beaten. He had pushed himself off of the net, regained his balance, and in slow-motion I watched as he brought his fist back, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth as did so, and brought it back as fast as he could.
Kris seemed to realize that Neil was back up too late, even though I could see Marc screaming at him. He tried to get his hand up to block the hit in time, but the sudden motion somehow propelled him forward, causing him to meet Neil’s fist sooner than he would have.
The entire crowd was silenced as Kris was knocked backwards, leaving even more room for the sound of his head smashing into the ice to carry through the arena.
I Love this story!
4/7/14