“Toy story or Roman Holiday?” I stood next to the DVD player holding up the cases for Sidney to see. Asking him what movie he wanted to watch was more of a courtesy than anything because I knew he wouldn’t stay awake long enough to watch either film.
He groaned and shook his head enough for me to see his protest. Only a day after the surgery he wasn’t quite healed enough to try talking and we had at least one more night in the 5 start hospital room.
“What about Jaws? Or maybe The Sheriff of Fractured Jaw? Costal mayhem or wild west?” I teased “I hear The Exorcist is on the list for most jaw dropping films.” I would never admit it to him, but I was bored out of my mind sitting in the room watching him sleep, or talking without a reply. I couldn’t concentrate enough to read or do anything but watch him. When I tried to distract myself I ended up anxiously watching his blood pressure monitor every few minutes instead.
“Mmmmggghhh..” he groaned and rolled his eyes, raising his arms slightly as if to ask the heavens what he’d done to deserve such torture, the torture being my banter rather than the fractured jaw.
“Okay, no movies. But we’re not putting TSN on,” we’d already had that debate twice. Both times I lectured while he tried to hide the remote from me. I knew they were showing his accident every five minutes and I didn’t want him thinking about anything other than resting for the time being. He might not have been willing to accept it, but I knew watching the replays would cause him to analyze every second of the event. He’d spend the next few weeks mulling it over in his head, slowly driving himself insane.
“Mmmmere,” he mumbled and patted the bed beside him, ushering me to his side. I set the DVDs down and walked towards the surprisingly plush hospital bed. I leaned over his blanket covered body and brushed my hand lightly over his damp forehead.
“How’s the pain?” I traced my finger lightly down his temple and under his eye, careful not to go near the swelling. He gave me a lazy thumbs up and patted the bed again, shifting to make room for me. Still dressed in my hospital pyjamas, I crawled onto the bed beside him, wary that any sudden movements might trigger a burst of pain in his exhausted and battered body. Discontent with the physical distance between us he wrapped his arm around me and pulled my body against his. My head found its spot on his chest and I lay my arm over his stomach, holding him tightly. He shifted so his hand rest against my side and slipped it under the cotton fabric of my shapeless shirt. His skin was warm against mine and he rubbed little circles onto my waist with his thumb. It was as if he was trying to soothe me. I’d been deliberate in my words and actions since his injury, careful to remain calm and supportive at all times, despite the fragility that ached inside me and the breakdown the threatened to erupt when he wasn’t near. A few minutes later I noticed his breathing level out and his thumb stop moving. I usually found myself frustrated when he fell asleep touching me but his quiet snores were a comforting sound. Between the antibiotics and IV painkillers it was amazing he was as coherent as he’d been.
He’d been in and out of slumber since waking up from surgery the night before. I spent most of the night watching him, worried that something might happen if I feel asleep, despite the constant string of nurses coming in and out of the room to check on him. I was sure they weren’t all assigned to his case, but I couldn’t blame them for wanting to catch a glimpse of Sidney. I was slowly getting accustom to the female attention surrounding him, and in many ways I couldn’t blame them. In fact I sympathized with them because they would never know him beyond the media image and fabricated exterior. An exterior that I was learning did not even begin to cover who he really was. Having all signed non-disclosure forms the staff were relatively harmless and always polite. A few had even stopped to keep me company and I’d nearly blown my cover more than once. The story was that I was here on behalf of the team, but the surgeon and most of the nurses on his case knew I was more than a Penguins’ representative. Considering I was listed as his emergency contact and hadn't left the hospital in two days they’d have to be naive to believe the story. Nevertheless it was easier to play along. I’d made it obvious to the team that we were back together, my reaction to his injuries not being the most platonic. Initially I’d chastised myself for breaking yet another one of my rules, but I’d quickly realized that was the least of my worries. There was no use caring what anyone thought about our occasionally rocky relationship. Because just like the first day I met him in the Penguin’s locker room, I still didn’t pay any mind to the inconsequential opinions of those around me.

Armed with aftercare instructions, suitable antibiotics, narcotics, and another case of meal replacements, Sidney was finally released the next morning. Still in a drugged up stupor he pressed his body against mine as we made our way to the front door. I supported his weight the best I could shuffling our bodies together until the door opened and Geno came out to help, his large frame much better suited for the job.
“I didn’t expect anyone to be here,” I admitted and adjusted the heavy duffle bag that was slung over my shoulder.
“Sena want to make house ready for you,” Geno explained, using his nickname for her.
We walked inside to find the place significantly cleaner that I’d left it. The floors had been mopped, the piles of mail cleared, and an inciting aroma wafted from the kitchen. She’d even set up the living room to accommodate Sidney’s frequent napping, the couch made into a bed and a small fold out table beside it with a box of kleenex and all the remotes. There were candles burning and the shades drawn to cover the huge bay window, I swore I could hear calming music in the background if I listened closely.
“You didn’t have to do this,” I hugged her tightly. The kitchen counters were covered with muffins and cookies for the chewing-abled people in the house, and purred fruit and pudding for Sidney.
“I didn’t want you to have to worry,” she gave me a final squeeze then let go. “Although I have to admit it gave me a good excuse to learn how to use a food processor. I mean that isn’t far from baby food,” she giggled and motioned to the bowl of mushed apple guts.
“I knew you’d find a way to hone your maternal instincts,” I teased and grabbed a still warm muffin from the cooling tray.
“I do what I can,” Serna smiled and undid her apron. “Do you want us to leave?”
“No,” I replied all to quickly. “I mean, if you have things to do that’s fine, but I wouldn’t mind the company.”

“Do you want to go upstairs or stay down here?” I asked Sid, who was splayed out on the couch staring at the ceiling. He looked at me with vacant eyes and I pushed his hair back from his forehead. “Upstairs?” I asked again.
He nodded weakly and tried to smile. We stumbled up the stairs and into the bedroom, just as we had so many times before, but this time, as I helped him out of his clothes there was nothing sexual about my hands on his flushed skin. I knew it would be a while before we were physical again and I was strangely undisturbed by that. It seemed that for the first time in any of my relationships, sex wasn’t a necessary form of communication. More accurately I didn’t need it to remind myself why I was with him. The realization of my own contentment was both comforting and alarming. Could I get used to being happy? Or if not happy, something like it? I tucked him under the covers and by the time I kissed his forehead he was already asleep, muffled snores coming from his gauze filled mouth.
I returned to the living room to find Serena sitting on the couch without Geno snuggled beside her. It was surprisingly rare to see one without the other outside of the rink.
“I sent him home,” she answered the question before I could ask. “It’s easier to talk about him when he’s not around, his English is getting too good,” she grinned and chuckled to herself.
“I take it things are good?” I flopped down beside her and rest my feet on the coffee table. It was as if we were back in our apartment, except for the high end decor and the higher ceilings.
“It’s scary,” she admitted. “I had no intention of falling in love with anything more than his body, let alone having his baby and considering some kind of future with him.”
“Future?” I eyed her excitedly.
“Maybe,” she shrugged. “He’ll be in my life forever now and I wouldn’t mind if he was more than the father of my genius baby.” This was Serena’s way of admitting she was in love. I’d seen her this way with one other person, a boy she met in high school, but even that whirlwind teenage love didn’t compare to the look of bliss that had settled onto her face.
“Have you told him this?”
“Kind of,” she blushed. “Not outright but I think he knows.”
“Tell him,” I rest my heavy head on her shoulder, hardly able to keep my eyes open.
“I will, eventually.” I felt her brush my hair from my face and I felt more comfortable than I had in our penthouse hospital suite. “How are you doing?”
“I’m good,” I sighed. “Sidney’s going to be okay and so am I.” I didn’t bother to elaborate. Partially because I didn’t want to talk about it anymore, but mostly because Serena knew that within my simple words was the truth; I was terrified and exhausted but acting as such would help no one. “Have you picked out any names?” I changed the subject casually.
“A few. Geno has a list, which is adorable, but I keep having to remind him that I have to be able to pronounce our child’s name. I have no problem with it being Russian I just need to be able to say it,” she laughed and smoothed her hands over her stomach. “I was going to wait to ask you, but if it’s a girl can we use ‘Beatrice’ as her middle name?”
My eyes sprung open and looked at her curiously, wondering if she was joking. “Really?” I finally croaked, feeling more emotional than I’d ever expected to be.
Her eyes sparkled and lips spread in a grin, showing her straight white teeth. “Of course. Besides, if we pick something too complicated she’ll need a strong fall back name for when she hates us.”
“I can’t imagine she’ll ever hate you, but if she does I’ll be there to remind her to use her head.” I let my eyes close again, still smiling and fighting back tears. “Tell me some of the names?”
“I have them all here,” she pulled out her phone and laughed. “Do you know how many apps they have for naming babies? It’s an entire subcategory of applications.”
“That doesn’t surprise me, pregnancy is an industry.”
“Is it ever, speaking of which we need to go clothes shopping, my pants are not going to last much longer.”
“I was waiting for that,” I laughed. “Tell me the names.”
“Okay, keep in mind we’re using a hyphenated last name, probably Malkin-Eriksson. Anyway, under the female parts we have: Briony, Vera, Anya, Theodosia, Katya, and Petra. I really like Briony but he says it sounds like a cut of meat.” she laughed and I tried to imagine them sitting together compiling this list, saying each name out loud and analyzing the other’s pronunciation. “He really likes Katya. I think I’d be okay with that.”
“I like those, I can imagine you calling all of them in your impatient voice,” I nudged her affectionately and told her to carry on.
“Boys names are giving me a run for my money. The middle name will probably be a patronymic, so Evegenevich. He was talking about Vladimir but was your friend that immediately makes me think of Lolita and I refuse to name my child after the author of literary kiddy porn, not to mention the president of that country. I like Alden, but we also have Dominic, Magnus, Nikolai, and Mischa. I keep having to remind him that this child is going to grow up in North America.”
“If all else fails just name it Hans or Lars,” I snorted.
“That’s not a horrible idea,” she replied and I could feel her shake her head.

After choking down an Ensure shake and some apple sauce, Sidney was lucid and awake for about two hours before I saw his eye get distant and tired. He’d tried talking but it would be a few days before he begin to form words properly. It surprised me how much I already missed his silly comments and comforting words. Even more, I missed kissing him, and the freedom to do so as I pleased.
“Serena and I were talking about baby names,” I told him. His head was resting on my chest and I spoke softly, careful to take shallow breaths. It was only eight o’clock but we were already in bed, it wasn’t likely that I’d get much sleep but after two night away it felt good to be back in our bed. “I still can’t believe she’s procreating before I am. Not that I’m in a hurry, I just didn’t expect it.” I babbled on, filling the silence in the air with my vacant thoughts. “If it’s a girl she wants to name her after me, I think Beatice is a solid middle name. Apparently if it’s a boy his middle name will be a variation of Evgeni. I hope you know if we ever have kids I’m not naming any of them Sidneyvovich.” I chuckled at my own joke sleepily and twirled the ends of his hair with my fingers.

He let out a muffled laugh that turned into a groan, as if he’d forgotten that he’d just had jaw surgery. I felt his hand fumble at my hip and finally find its way under my shirt, resting comfortably against my stomach. His need for skin on skin contact was nothing new, my hips and back were his go-to resting place when he was overtired, overwhelmed, or just down right grumpy. The feeling of his callused hands against my bare skin still sent tingles through my body, little pangs of excitement from his touch. A warmth of affection spread through me each time, the knowledge that the simplest of gestures could help him in anyway reminded me how blended our lives were. And for the first time, nothing about that scared me.

Notes