Stay, Stay, Stay

It was a full moon that night. Hours after the last picture was taken and I’d answered the last question for the fourth time, I stood on the back deck staring up at the sky. My hands shoved into the pockets of the hoodie I’d taken from Sidney’s side of the closet and my head tiled back I tried to think of all the times I’d seen the moon so swollen and bright. The number was give or take 319. Three- hundred and nineteen times before, the moon had sat in the sky fully illuminated and glowing above me. But I couldn’t have noticed it more than a dozen times, I hadn’t spent hours of my life staring at the dark vast sky thinking about the world. I’d been more occupied with keeping my head above water and living. So much of my life had been spent just trying to survive. At least half of it had been dedicated to fighting the battles that raged inside my head, my own mental civil war dividing and conquering all other aspects of my life. The night air was crisp and heavy with the hopeful promise of autumn. I’d always favoured the dull smell of decaying leaves and the slowly declining temperatures to the obnoxious heat and sun that came with summer. Fall came so unpretentiously, so matter of factly, it was a gentle transition for most places into the frigid temperatures of winter. It was the warm cradle of darkness that came before rock bottom. It was home.
I stood with the night air filling my lungs and the silence of the neighbourhood taunting my ears, I knew at that very moment hundreds of journalists sat at their desks trying to craft the perfect article detailing my debut as Sidney’s wife. They poured over their keyboards, typing and deleting adjectives that might accurate describe me to those who weren’t in that room. To these people I was the newest development in the ongoing story of Sidney Crosby, lucky if I got a chapter in his biography. To them everything about me came secondary to being Sidney’s wife. My career was a fun fact, my preferences obsolete, I existed as a part of Sidney, the mother of his child and nothing more. It was nearly impossible for me to accept that notion without feeling the flames of anger growing inside of me, licking my stomach with their fiery tentacles. I wanted to be more, then again, I always wanted more.

After the camera crews had packed up and the journalists had wished us well, Sidney and I sat on an overstuffed, black couch in Mario’s office listening to the grains of wisdom he generously offered us.

“It wasn’t like this when I started out,” he told us. “We didn’t have the internet, I was a hockey player, not a celebrity.”

“It’s not that bad,” Sidney shook his head and casually rest his arm over the back of the couch.

“That’s because you don’t do anything,” I teased. “If you were at all engaged in social media you’d see how bad it is.”

“Or if he went out at all,” Mario added and I nodded in agreement, exchanging a smile with the man I’d previously gone out of my way to avoid, after the skating in my underwear incident.

“I guess,” he shrugged and wrapped one of my curls around his finger, fiddling with the end of it.

“Anyway, I don’t envy either of you.” Mario sat in in plush chair across from us, holding a bottle of water in his lap. “When you wake up tomorrow your lives are going to be splashed across newspapers, your names will be all over the internet and I have no doubt that the next few weeks will be a little crazy.”

I looked at both men, concerned and on the verge of being overwhelmed by the thoughts starting to race through my mind. I’d spent so long trying to prepare myself for the inevitable insanity, it wasn’t as if I’d just learned of Sidney’s status in the world of professional sports. I’d known from the moment I started kissing him on the kitchen counter that he came with his own baggage of sorts. Still, hearing it straight from Mario, who I’d come to know as quite a calm person, made me squirm with anxiety.

“It’ll be fine,” Sid spoke firmly. It didn’t matter how much or how little I tried to hide my emotions anymore, in the end Sidney was going to pick up it. “I think we need to give fans more credit, but just stay off the internet and it’ll be fine.”

I woke up the morning after the reveal to my phone vibrating angrily on the table beside me and a dozen unread text messages waiting. I’d gained over a thousand new twitter followers, and suddenly people I hadn’t heard from in years were incredibly eager to get a hold of me.

“Hello?” I groaned into the phone, rolling onto my back and wiping sleep out of my eyes.

“Trix!” Her voice rang out like a bell in the night. Her distinct, high pitched tone and the way she elongated the ends of words gave away her identity almost immediately.

“Camilla Morris,” I sat up slowly rubbed my face with my free palm. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”

“It is 8:49am in Philadelphia, so I guess it’s about 8:49am in Pittsburgh.”

“Smart ass,” I grumbled, now fully awake.

“So, you’re married?” I could almost see her tipping back in her chair, twirling one of her coppery curls around her fingers and smirking.

“I think that’s what the legal documents said.” Although Millie and I had reconciled after her interesting behaviour at our dinner party months earlier, I wasn’t exactly in the mood to talk to her, especially not first thing in the morning.

“Well, congratulations, I guess,” the enthusiasm has slipped from her voice and immediately felt bad for not being just a little nicer.

“Thank you,” I tried to brighten up. “We’re…”

“Why didn’t you tell me you went back to him?” she interrupted me before I could give her the standard ‘we’re so happy.’

“I’m…”

“Do you know how strange it is to wake up and see your ex-girlfriend has married a celebrity? Better yet to learn about it from the fucking newspaper?” her tone was just as angry as the words she spat at me. I sat in bed, stunned and speechless.

“No actually, I don’t know how strange it is because you haven’t married a celebrity as far as our newspapers have reported,” I tried to lighten the mood.

“I can’t believe you Beatrice!” she was steps away from screaming. “I spoke to you a month ago, for two hours! The only thing you told me was that you were home and that you were considering opening an amusement park for cats. And when I text you a few weeks before that you told me Serena was in Russia and your mother was writing another book. And before that we talked about how sad it was that Amanda Bynes was losing her marbles. Not once did you tell me you were back with Mr. Superstar, or that you were getting married, or they you were pregnant!”

Everything she said was true. We’d texted and Skyped throughout the summer. Our relationship was nothing more than platonic, nothing I wouldn’t show Sidney if he’d asked- but he hadn’t asked, and knowing his feelings about Millie I didn’t offer up the information. It wasn’t technically lying, and it definitely wasn’t cheating, but keeping my contact with her a secret wasn’t the best decision I’d ever made. My intentions were good, I wanted to keep our lives as drama free as possible, but my execution sucked. I realized then that I was stupid to think my relationship past or present with Millie could cause a rift between Sidney and I, he was above that.

“In my defence I didn’t know I was pregnant until June,” I tried pathetically to reason with her.

“You fucking dope we’ve spoken twice since then! And that’s not including the random text messages!”

“Look, it’s not the easiest thing to tell someone, okay?” I said.

“C’mon, it takes two seconds to text me saying ‘getting hitched, knocked up, lol.’ Or maybe even send an invitation to the wedding?” This was hardly the first time Mille had been angry with me, in fact her emotionally charged words brought back memories of our entire relationship, but this was the first time I felt like I was completely in the wrong.

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” I finally admitted.

“So instead you let me think that maybe if I gave you enough space we could be together again? That you had some interest in me. Because why else, after everything we’ve been through, would you text me?” she was crying and if she didn’t stop I would be too.

“I didn’t…” I stammered.

“Let me guess, you didn’t think?” she sniffled. “Honey that’s not new at all, you never think.”

“I’m sorry,” my voice shook. “I’m so sorry.”

“How can I be so in love with someone I hate so much?” she sobbed through the phone. “Do you get some kind of sick pleasure out of hurting me? Because if you do just tell me. Because then it’ll be okay because you’ll be happy. But other than that I don’t understand why you keep doing this?”

“Doing what?” I cried, kicking off the covers and sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Making me feel like I matter, then reminding me I’m scum.” She took a jagged breath and I clung to the sheets beneath me, gripping them so tightly my knuckles throbbed. “I knew I loved you within days of meeting you, but still you made it seem like I had to jump through hoops to be with you, and when I finally got you, you decided to move. No one asked me if I wanted to move, you just decided it. I had to choose between my life and you. I fucking chose you Beatrice! I quit my job, left my home, and followed you to a strange town in a shitty apartment. But I loved you, so I tried to make it work. I tried to emulate the perfect partner, but that’s hard to do when your girlfriend is never home. Still, I tried because I loved you. I left when you told me to because I loved you and I came back when you begged because it hurt to exist without you. And years later it still hurts to exist without you even though you do nothing but hurt me. When I ended it once and for all I did it because I was so scared you would that I couldn’t think straight. I didn’t want to lose you so I pushed you away.

But you know what makes this all worse? I was doing so well until you called me this spring crying about your boyfriend,I had a met someone new, but the second I heard you broke up with him all I could think about was how much I missed you. I told you everything you needed to hear that day, but when I got home it hurt to exist again and within a week I was single and waiting for you, again.”

“Millie,” my voice was tight and my mind scrambled trying to process everything she’d just told me. I’d never heard her side of our relationship, I’d never bothered to consider things from her perspective. In my eyes she was the bitch who pushed me away and acted like everything I did was wrong. I’d always seen myself as the victim in our wayward love story.

“No, don’t say anything. Don’t apologize. Just tell me you don’t still think of me when you’re alone. When he’s left you for the game and there’s no one to press your feet against. Tell me you’ve never once missed me.”

I couldn’t reply, because she was right. In fits of anger when Sidney was too busy to see me, or when his job had to come first, I missed her. I missed her gentleness, the grace in her movements, and I missed the effortless communication that came with being of the same gender identity. The unsaid words that filled our conversations and the comfort that comes with being with someone for as long as I was with her. But I loved Sidney. I loved him with a kind of fury and thundering passion that radiated my nerves and turned me into the person I’d only dreamed of being. I loved him for who he was, the kindhearted man who gave 110% with everything he did, the goofy boy who took care of me when I needed him and was slowly learning to let me do the same. I loved Sidney the person, I loved Millie the idea, I missed the idea of her and the good memories I’d saved. And although I felt a pang of nostalgia for her when I woke up in the middle of the night to an empty house, or when things didn’t feel like they were going right, I didn’t miss her. Not who she actually was.

“Look,” I began, but stopped when I heard the bedroom door open and saw Sidney walking in, still dressed in his gym shorts and damp t-shirt. “I have to go.”

“Don’t you dare hang up on me,” I heard her cry as I pulled the phone from my ear and pressed the end button.

Hanging up wasn’t the nicest or most mature thing I could have done, but I didn’t want to finish our conversation with Sidney in the room. It seemed wrong to start our morning on such a negative note. So I avoided it. I tossed my phone on the bed and when he asked who I was talking to I smiled and told him no one. I followed him into the shower and did everything I could to push Millie’s words out of my mind. I hid my guilt behind frantic kisses, and masked my shame with eager touching. It was so easy to avoid my emotions this way. Because I wasn’t ashamed of hiding my conversations from Sidney, or guilty that I’d had them. Of course I regretted not being honest with him, but my intense emotions came from knowing just how much I had hurt Millie. I wave of nostalgia washed over me again as he kissed his way down my neck, only it wasn’t for Millie, I was nostalgic for my life just moments ago, when I had no idea what I had done to her.

I should have known that waking up that way was an omen of the day to come. After our longer than expected shower, we had less than a half an hour to get ready and get to the rink for practice. I hurriedly pulled on a pair of too big maternity pants and a sweater, and tossed a dress in my bag for the dinner plans we had with the team and their wives that evening. I barely had time to brush my hair and tripped over my own feet while running down the stairs to meet Sidney.
“For the love of god, Beatrice, be careful,” he lunged to catch me as I grabbed the railing.

“I’m okay,” I brushed him off and ran out the door with his shoes-that I’d claimed as my own- in my hand. “We’re late!” I called to him as I climbed into his truck.

“You say this like it’s my fault,” he got into his seat and leisurely started the engine. “Besides, aren’t you used to it by now? You’re late for everything.”

“Shut up,” I smacked him lightly. “I’m only late when you distract me.”

“Okaayyy,” he chuckled. “I just hope our daughter inherits my sense of time and direction.”

“We’re not having a daughter,” I rolled my eyes. I’d told him several times that I knew in my gut it was a boy, but he didn’t believe me. “At least not this time, this baby, the one in here has a penis, I can feel it, inside of me.”

“Sweetie,” he gave me a shocked look. “Think about what you just said!”

“You know what I mean,” I scowled.

“Yes, but in the future you might want to think about your words a little more. And besides that, unless you’ve had a secret scan behind my back we both know that your guess is as good as mine.”

“HE is inside ME! I win this debate and I always will, so go away.” I nudged him again then reached to turn on the radio.

“Again, word choice,” he smirked and pulled my hand into his lap.

We caught the tail end of a commercial for a car dealership and I waited for the music to start, hoping something irritatingly poppy would play just to annoying Sidney. Instead a man’s voice came on welcoming us back to 1250 sports radio. I instinctively turned it up and settled in to hear the latest trade rumours and hypothesis.

“So you think the Paajarvi-Perron trade was a good move for the Blues?” one of the men spoke.

“I think it was a better move for the Oilers, but Paajarvi has a lot of potential, fast skater, hard worker. I think it will benefit everyone in the end,” the other man stated. I had to agree with him, Paajarvi was an undervalued player who could do a lot for any team if given the opportunity.

“Fair enough,” the first one replied. “So let’s talk about this Crosby thing. If you ask me it’s all really weird. I mean one day he’s Pittsburgh’s most eligible bachelor and the next he’s saying he’s married with a kid on the way? Something about that is fishy. And no one knows anything about this chick. Sounds like a gold…” Sid smacked his hand against the volume before I could here what more this stranger on the radio had to say about me.

“Good thing no one asked his opinion,” Sidney grumbled and picked my hand up again, squeezing it.

“I’m fine,” I assured him. I wasn’t lying really, on a fundamental level I didn’t care what two middle aged men on the radio had to say about me, but on a surface level it bothered me just as much as it would bother anyone to hear that kind of thing being said about them in a public space.

“Do me a favour, please leave your phone in your office today,” he looked at me seriously after we’d parked outside the players’ entrance to the rink. “I know you think you can handle the criticism that might come, but you shouldn’t have to try. It’s not worth it. Just leave your phone in your office, or in my locker and don’t tempt yourself.” He was almost pleading with me, his eyes wide and brow wrinkled.

“Take it,” I said quietly and pulled my phone out of my purse. Sidney took it from me, pink sparkly case and all and kissed me lightly.

“Thank you,” he squeezed my hand again. “I’ll put it with mine in my bag.”

A few lonely reporters and fans were waiting for us outside the doors and Sid of course stopped to take pictures with anyone who asked. I tried to stay out of the way, acutely aware of the lenses focusing on me. I left before he was finished, rushing to the safety of the trainers room, away from prying eyes and curious cameras. After tossing my bag in my office I set to work organizing the stock in the bandage cupboards. It wasn’t the most important thing I could be doing, but the simple, solitary activity of placing the neatly packaged products in their designated spot was calming. Cathartic compared to the energy I’d just encountered outside.

I wasn’t alone for long, before I’d emptied the first box the room was bustling with players looking for heat, ice, and various other remedies. The preseason had only just begun but already we were getting into a nice routine. I was getting to know the new team members and already the replacement covering my maternity leave had been hired- a woman just a few years older than me named Haley. It was nice to have another female in the locker room and her experience in the AHL made her easy to train and comfortable around the guys. I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy though as I watched her effortlessly fit into the job; It had taken me so long to find my footing around everyone and in just a few months I’d be leaving. The thought of leaving the excitement of the team made my chest tighten and my emotions heat up. No matter how excited I was for the baby and our future, I wasn’t ready to give up my career. I hadn’t told Sidney yet, but I planned on finding a way to continue working by the next season.

“So what’s it like?” Haley asked as we sat alone in the trainers’ room after the players had left to start practice.

“What’s what like?” I looked up from the paperwork I was trying to fill out. I’d had to redo it once already and was reasonably agitated.

“Y’know… like being a celebrity and everything,”

“I’m not a celebrity,” I scoffed.

“Ohmygod you so are,” she cried over-enthusiastically. I wasn’t even close to being in the mood for her eager questions and excited tone. “Your face is on the front page of the paper!”

“Well that’s cool I suppose,” I replied drearily. I didn’t like the idea of being in the paper at all, but I wasn’t about to explain to her why.

“I didn't even know you two were together until I woke up and saw that. How did you keep it a secret for so long? What’s it like being married to someone so big?”

I had to chuckle at her last question, the double entendre could lead us into a very intimate conversation very quickly.

“We just did,” I tried to brush her off without being rude. “It’s what was best at the time.”

“And now you’re having a baby and married and the whole country knows about it, god you’re not going to be able to do anything without being on the news,” she beamed as if her reminder that I was suddenly in a semi-spotlight was some kind of compliment. The more I heard about it from different people, the more uncomfortable I became, my flight instincts kicked in and I wanted to be home again. close to the ocean and away from the attention. The notion that I might already be regretting my decision to go public with Sidney broke my heart. There wasn’t a fibre of my being that questioned my affection for him, every part of me was constantly abuzz with admiration and tenderness towards him. Yet I couldn’t help wishing he was wasn't his name. As selfish as it seemed I didn’t want to share him with anyone. I wanted him to be my Sidney and not number 87. But that wasn’t a new feeling, nothing about my irritation towards his status was new, it was just exaggerated by the free flowing emotions I was experiencing and the hormones that came with pregnancy.

“I’m going to go check the locker room stock,” I told Haley, ignoring her last comment completely and grabbing a notepad. It didn’t matter that I’d check the first aid cabinet a few days prior, I needed an excuse to get away from her questions and nattering.

I took my time in the locker room, carefully checking every shelf and box, ensuring everything they might need was neatly displayed and accessible. Without my phone I had no concept of how much time had passed and I was tempted to look for it in the perfect organization of Sidney’s stall. Reminding myself of his worried eyes and pleading earlier that day I pushed the idea from my mind and closed the cabinet. I needed to trust that he knew way he was talking about. In the interest of avoiding Haley, I went into the bathroom in the locker room, just as I had my first day. The differences between that moment and the year before were so abundant I could hardly believe I was the same person.

I sat with my maternity pants around my ankles, thinking of all of the things I’d endured in just 12 months, all of the happiness I’d experienced, all of the sadness I’d battled. When I sat in that same stall with my high waisted jeans and bright red lipstick, I’d simply hoped that I would be good at my job. I’d wanted my life to improve, my spirits to lift, I wanted to feel like I belonged somewhere. It was impossible not to believe in something as I evaluated everything I had been given. I’d found that improvement, that sense of belonging. I’d found someone to help me lift my spirits or at least survive when they were down. And as I smiled to myself, allowing the anxiety and frustration from the morning to drift away, I found one more thing; blood. I found blood. I found where there shouldn’t be blood at this point in the pregnancy. In less than a millisecond that anxiety and emotion I'd released into the world came slamming back to me, pummelling me in the chest and ripping the air from my lungs. Blood, fresh, red, and the last thing I wanted to see.

Notes

I'm such a jerk, I know! Feel free to tell me in the comments ;)

I promise you will NOT hate me at the end of this, trust me okay?

xx-T