Stay, Stay, Stay

“Son of a b-,” I hissed, feeling a burst of pain run through my already sore ribs. “You have to stop doing that! You cannot kick Mummy like that. Especially not when she’s holding scissors,” I scolded the 34 week old source of my pain. It had been going on for a week, little tiny baby feet and fists, kicking and pressing against my ribs at full tiny baby force. “I’m serious!” I tried to sound authoritative after another boot to my left side. 



“Who are you talking to?” Sidney called from the next room where I had put him and Beau to work painting the nursery the warm greyish “misted green” we’d finally settled on. 



“Your kid is kicking me in the ribs, again,” I called back to him, pressing against the sore spot on my side and leaning back against the wall. In front of me was a pile of Christmas presents that filled half of the yellow room. I’d gotten a little excited this year, shopping for my family and Sid’s, even picking up things for Beau and James. But those could all be wrapped later, I had a wrapping priority list to work with. As an official Pens WAG, especially one who didn’t work anymore, I was part of the community foundation which meant shopping for less fortunate families for the holiday season. The shopping itself was heavenly, I’d been given an opportunity to shop without feeling any buyers remorse or guilt— something that regularly plagued me after the swipe of a credit card— but the wrapping was another story. In an hour I’d only wrapped five things, and with about 30 more to go I was looking at another six hours of elf simulation.

“Is it listening?” Beau appeared in the doorway, greenish paint splattered on his worn out t-shirt and shorts and a smudge on the tip of his nose.

I pushed on my side again and shook my head. “Are you done?” I looked up at him hopefully, anything to distract me from wrapping was welcome at this point.

“Just finished the second coat, come see,” he grinned and maneuvered his way around the pile-o-gifts and towards me. Without another word he held out his hands and helped me pull myself to my feet, winking when I smiled in thanks.

I stood in the middle of the room with them, taking in the warm colour that now covered the walls. With a few coats of paint and some forced manual labour it had transformed into a completely different room. The light filled the space differently, no longer reflecting off of the blindingly white walls, and I could almost begin to image it as a completed nursery. I tried to imagine having the baby here, using the room, but despite being only a month and a bit away from its arrival everything still felt surreal. It didn’t matter that I could feel him or her moving inside of me, jabbing me in my innards at the most inconvenient times, I still didn’t fully believe that I was going to have a kid. It felt like a strange joke, a late night comedy show set up, like who’d actually give these two unconventional, at times barely functional people a living, breathing human being to look after. Will they make it? Stay tuned to find out.

“So?” Beau looked at me expectantly, both of them waiting for my reaction.

“I like it!” I slapped him on the back and nodded enthusiastically.

“And does it somehow look better because we painted it?” Sidney laughed, wrapping his dried paint speckled arms around me. He’d been insistent on hiring someone to paint for us, but it seemed so wrong to me, having a stranger paint our first nursery. I was undoubtably over-sentimental, but painting the room ourselves seemed like a right of passage, an important labour of love.

“Yes,” I rolled my eyes dramatically and tried to hug him but failing to get my arms around him fully. The truth was, even though he’d gotten paint on the ceiling and the edges weren’t perfect, it did look better because they’d done it. I knew that on the nights he was away I could sit in the room and know he’d been involved.


Our second Christmas together came and went far more casually than the first. After a flurry of promotional holiday events, including hand delivering gifts to a family— something I was not prepared for emotionally— we spent what little time the guys had off at home together. Like the last year, Beau’s tree people came through and our giant fir tree was set up in the front room just in time for Christmas Eve. It hurt to know Sidney and I wouldn’t be going home, I longed to be a part of the chaos in my childhood home that my mother kept calling about. Felix was talking, Lyla had started ballet lessons, and Mum’s new book was just about to hit shelves. They were together, basking in the holiday spirit, while Sidney and I were in Pittsburgh… preparing for Sochi. I resented his father for ever making such a stupid comment, and I hated that Sidney had taken it to heart. But when it came down to it, three days wasn’t enough time to make it worth us crossing the border, and although I stubbornly refused to admit it out loud, it was better for everyone if we stayed put.

With the help of Serena, I managed to make Christmas dinner for ten with only minimal burns to my hands and no serious cooking catastrophes. It was our first Christmas as a married couple and we shared it with any of the Penguins who didn’t have a place to go. It was lively, as vibrant and active as any event involving a handful of young hockey players would be. Being surrounded by people eased my longing for the Island, but I was relieved when we fell into bed and were able to knock another holiday season off of our list. I loved it in theory, but in reality, the excitement, expectations, and noise of it all was exhausting. It was exhausting in a way not related to being heavily pregnant, a way I’d always felt. Sometimes I wondered if I was missing out on something, if everyone else had been given the secret to holiday joy, but I’d simply been absent that day.


With just three days left in 2013, I boarded what I knew would be my last flight before giving birth and joined the team on their one night road trip to Philadelphia. How I convinced anyone to let me travel is beyond me, but my seat beside Sid’s was still there as if no time had passed. Despite being only a little over an hour, it was by far the worst flying experience of my life. From the minute I shoved my swollen body into the seat I was uncomfortable. My legs cramped, my back ached, the baby had hiccups, and the altitude made my already puffy hands and feet even puffier. In the end, between a few laps up and down the aisle, I spent the ride with my feet draped across Sidney’s lap and two pillows between me and the wall of the plane. I expected us to be chirped horribly for my awkward positioning and his willingness to rub my legs, but instead I only got sympathetic smiles from the players and staff around us.

“I’m dying,” I whined, flopping onto the large bed in our hotel suit. With our feet firmly planted in Philadelphia, I was still feeling the pain of our short trip.

“No you’re not,” Sid called from the bathroom where he was about to get into the shower.

“How do you know? I’m the one with a medical background and I say I’m dying,” I grumbled back at him.

“Do you want me to amputate something?” he appeared from the other side of the wall wearing just his jeans slung low on his hips.

“Maybe,” I whimpered and tried awkwardly to rub out the knot in my lower back without sitting up, too uncomfortable to pay any attention to how good he looked standing there half undressed.

“I’ll call the front desk and see if they have an axe,” he teased and grabbed my right leg, taking it firmly in his hands then bending my knee and pushing it gently towards my stomach.

“That’s not even sanitary,” I huffed as he picked up the other leg and pushed them both towards me, sending almost instant relief through my body as he stretch my aching hips.

“Oh so now you’re being realistic.” He pushed a little harder. “I’m sure I can get them to throw in some bleach.”

I let out a groan as the stretch ran deeper and rolled my eyes.

“Is it helping?” he kept pushing, just enough that I felt my muscles stretching without it hurting.

“This might be better than sex,” I moaned.

“I can’t tell if I should be offended or take that as a suggestions,” he cocked his eyebrow and smirked at me. 

Before I could come up with a witty retort he’d let go of my legs and was hovering above me, his lips meeting mine. Being so close to him was sublime, finally after months of missing him while he was on the road, I was right there beside him. Sidney’s hand pushed under my shirt while the other supported his weight. Things were starting to heat up, my excessive blood volume coursing though my veins and my skin sensitive, his hand creeping higher and higher when we were startled out of our little world by the sound of banging on the door.

“Oh for fuck sakes,” Sidney hissed and pushed himself off of me. He grabbed my hoodie off of the chair and pulled it over his head before opening the door. James stood on the other side, a towel pressed against his face and a pleading look in his eyes.

“What in the hell happened to you?” I asked, noticing blood seeping through the towel. Sid invited him in and I struggled to sit up.



“My nose is bleeding, and I can’t find Haley. Do you have any gauze?” James replied, sitting beside me on the edge of the bed. His voice was muffled under the towel but I could tell he was in pain.

“I can see that,” I moved his hand out of the way and tipped his head back to take a closer look. Sure enough his nose had begun to swell and little drops of crimson blood trickled down to his top lip. “Baby, can go get me some ice? But first, grab my purse and a roll of toilet paper,” I held my hand out for Sidney who did not look impressed.

I rummaged through my bag looking for a long forgotten item, pulling out tubes of lipstick and old receipts. “So really, what happened?”

“Beau punched me in the face,” he sighed, still clutching the blood soaked towel to his face. 



“Sunshine punched you in the face? What did you do, steal his comic books?” I looked at him in horror.

“It was an accident,” he shook his head. “At least I think it was. We were goofing around and I guess I was standing closer than he anticipated.” James shrugged nonchalantly as if it was just another day another smack to the nose.

“You two really need to stop wrestling in hotel rooms,” I rolled my eyes recalling the incident with Beau’s good suit. “Do you want to tell everyone I did it? To save you the shame of having to admit that Beau Bennett broke your nose?”

“Oh shit, is it really broken?” he moved the towel from his face and tried to get a look in the mirror that hung on the wall across from us.

“I think so. Just a little,” I took the towel from him and replaced it with a wad of toilet paper, something disposable that we wouldn’t have to explain to housekeeping. “But we’ll have a doctor look at it to be sure. I think you’ll be fine though, it doesn’t look anymore deformed than usual.” He let out a frustrated groan and I nudged his shoulder with mine playfully.

Sidney returned with the ice bucket filled and a sour look still plastered to his face. He was usually so good at hiding his emotions and I shot him a scowl, warning him to be nicer, then dumped my purse out on the bed. I immediately found what I’d been looking for. James and Sid both looked at me in horror as I unwrapped the tampon that had been hiding at the bottom of my purse and took it out of the plastic applicator. Using a pair of cuticle scissors I carefully cut it in half, taking it from super absorbent to small enough to fit in a nostril. James winced when I gently pushed the cotton into his tender nose, blood already having stained the skin around it. With the bleeding somewhat under control, I grabbed the airline ziplock bag from the top of the pile and added the contents of it to the junk on the bed then filled it halfway with ice.

“I’m sorry I punched you, Buddy, but you just can’t go dissing One Direction around the pregnant chick,” I handed him the ice bag and winked. “We’ll get someone to look at it when we get to the rink.”

He mumbled a thanks and left us with a wave and a sigh. I felt bad for the guy, there was nothing comfortable about a broken nose, and one a few hours before they were expected at the rink seemed particularly unfortunate.

“I guess we should get used to that, eh? Being interrupted I mean,” Sid picked up my purse and with one swipe of his hand returned the mess of stuff I’d dumped on the bed back to its rightful hiding place.

“Probably,” I smirked and grabbed his arm, pulling him down to the bed with me. “But we’ve got six weeks, so let’s just enjoy the freedom while it lasts.”


To say I got lost in the Wells Fargo Centre is an overestimation. It wasn’t so much that I got lost, as I wandered a bit too far into the home side of the rink and couldn’t remember exactly how to get back to the visitors locker rooms.

I’d taken James to see the Flyers doctor and by the time we got back to the room Sidney was already into is pregame routine. I could tell I was getting in the way, although I wasn’t doing anything specifically and no one had said anything, I knew the routine well enough to see that I was cramping their style. My old role as trainer was no longer applicable and I was just another wife, and wives didn’t hang out in the locker room. It made me nostalgic for the months gone when I knew exactly where I fit in amongst the cogs and gears of the well oiled Penguins team machine. It felt as if I was drifting between two worlds; my life as the professional- a member of the team, and my life as Mrs. Keller-Crosby. They were two very different spheres and until that day I hadn’t realized how difficult it was to make them fit together. I left the room as they were doing their stretches, still over an hour left until I was to meet Andy in the club box. I regretted not taking him up on his offer to ditch work for me. Hell, I even wished I’d called Millie to see if she wanted to grab coffee before the game. I had been under the impression that I’d be able to lend a hand in the trainers room, that somehow despite my maternity leave I’d be of some assistance, but that was wishful thinking and now I just needed to get out of the way.

I set off in search of a place to sit— away from everyone— and ended up pacing mindlessly with no real destination. It was awkward to wander the halls alone, but my year with the team had made me familiar with the Flyers staff, and between that and having my face splashed beside Sid’s on every media outlet for weeks no one questioned the pregnant woman in the Crosby jersey waddling around. I knew I had the option of going up to the box to wait for Andy, but there was something safe about being in the basement of the arena, almost hidden away from the world. It also helped that I’d discovered as the last trimester progressed that aimless pacing and hip rocking helped to ease the tension in my tired body and deterred the baby from smacking me internally, and what better place to move in weird ways than around a bunch of hockey players who were doing their own weird movements. The population might judge me, but I knew the players couldn’t.



“Are you doing alright there?” someone asked as I stood reading a text message from Serena and swaying back and forth.

“Yeah, I’m….” I locked my phone without replying and looked up to find number 28 on the Flyers roster smiling at me, his coppery hair curled around the edges of his backwards ball cap. I’d never really been starstruck, I had no reason to be, I was a married woman, I spent most of my time around hockey players, yet I still found myself tongue tied, tripping over myself much like the first time I met Max.
“I’m just walking,” I croaked, pointing to my stomach for no real reason,

“Ah,” he flashed me a gap toothed grin. “You’re Crosby’s wife, yeah?”

I nodded, shifting my weight from one foot to the other and smiled back at him. 



“Claude,” he held out his hand.



“I know who you are,” I giggled. I was two steps away from full on fangirling as I shook his offered hand. “Beatrice,” I bit my lip. “I mean my name is Beatrice… Bea…” 



“It’s nice to meet you,” he laughed, probably used to fans making idiots out of themselves as a result of his presence. “So are you a spy or a secret fan, Mrs. Crosby?” he leaned casually against the wall beside me.

“Well I’m not a spy. I mean I’m on the enemy pay roll but I can keep your secrets… not that you have any. I haven’t seen anything, I’ve just been walking…” I babbled. “We’re all huge Flyers fans actually. My family I mean. But I don’t think you should mention that to anyone. I have a feeling Sid likes to keep that a secret. I don’t blame him, the press would eat it up. ‘Crosby’s wife: life long Flyers fan and sleeping with then enemy.” I drew my hands across the space in front of me as if to make a headline.

“That wouldn’t be good,” he wrinkled his nose, still smiling and I realized how stupid my words had sounded, sleeping with the enemy. 



“I meant like he’s the enemy, my husband, Sidney, because I’ve been a fan longer than I’ve been his wife. We only got married this summer, I’ve been a fan since like birth.” I clarified. “My niece has your jersey, she wears it with her tutu on special occasions.”

“That’s awesome,” he laughed again, taking this all very well. “How old is she?”

“She’s four,” I pulled out my phone and scrolled up to a picture J.J had recently sent me of her hugging her Giroux plush doll wearing her jersey, tutu, and rubber boots.

“So she hasn’t quite figured out the rivalry?” he looked at the picture and chuckled.

“She has no idea,” I shook my head and locked the phone. “I don’t think she really knows who Sid is yet to be honest. Other than the guy I married who willingly has tea parties with her.”

“That’ll be a shock for her.” Claude smiled wider, which I didn’t think was possible, and let out a low chuckle.

“No kidding,” I agreed and fiddled nervously with the edge of my jersey. The sweater used to fit loosely over me, hanging to my mid thighs, but now with my spherical abdomen and swelling everything it was snug and almost uncomfortable. 
“Hey, this might sound really weird, but can I get a picture. To show Lyla I mean.”

“Mrs. Crosby is asking me for a picture?” he looked at me amused.

“I know,” I blushed. I realize how ridiculous it must have seemed. I was married to one of, if not the biggest player in the league but there I was, tripping over my words and asking for pictures with a guy who didn’t have documentaries and biographies covering his life. “You can take the the girl away from the Flyers but you can’t take the Flyers away from the girl?” I shrugged.


Andy and I spent most of the game hidden away in the VIP box with the other Pens guests. We were the only Flyers fans in the luxurious little room, but unlike my brother I kept my dedication to the orange and black hidden under my Crosby jersey. There was something about being in Philadelphia that made Sidney nervous. I couldn’t blame him really, there was a history there that I would never be able to really understand, but his anxiety had gone into overdrive the minute I put on his jersey. I had offered to take it off in exchange for my Giroux Winter Classic sweater but that was met with disgust. The notion that anyone would see his wife wearing such traitorous colours made him roll his eyes dramatically and shake his head in my direction. It was a lose-lose situation for him, either way I was out in enemy territory with his name linked to mine and he couldn’t protect me. It seemed that despite our year together he didn’t quite believe that I could take care of myself. The only thing that made me anxious about my mingling with the Philadelphian crowd was the sheer volume of people. The idea that any angry, rabid Flyers fan would do anything to hurt me was preposterous and actually quite insulting. But I felt for him, I sympathized with his worries even though I thought he was over exaggerating. It was hardly a chore to stay in the suit though, in fact it was really just an added bonus that I was able to keep my promise to stay out of the crowds. We had a great view of the ice, at least four TVs, comfy chairs, and all you can eat and drink catering.

“Are you training for a competitive eating competition or something?” Andy teased, nudging me with his hip. I was working on my second hot dog of the period and had already polished off and order of onion rings, half of a large caesar salad, and some nachos.

“Sidney doesn’t feed me at home,” I replied, straight faced and taking another bite. “We can’t afford food.”

“That’s not funny,” his face fell and he shook his head as if trying to erase a memory. I knew exactly what that memory was. It was the night he found out about my dysfunctional relationship with food.

We’d only been living together again for a few weeks, I’d uprooted the life I’d been trying to make with Mille at Penn in the hopes of a fresh start. I was young, overeducated, and horribly unhappy. Anxiety and darkness had plagued my mind for years and I spent so many nights paralyzed by fear and hoping I could drift off to sleep and not wake up. It seemed as if no amount of formal education could give me a sense of fulfillment and for someone who had spent her life thinking school was the escape rout, I was lost. The restricting had started in high school, but was never anything serious, just the occasional meal skipped for the satisfaction of hearing my stomach rumble. That on again off again dysfunction lasted through my first degree and into my second, but when I watched my world with Millie fall apart I didn’t know what else to cling to. After somehow making it through graduation, I had two degrees, no girlfriend, and no place to live. My lease was up, I was broke, and I couldn’t bear the idea of moving back to the Island. I don’t know if Andrew sensed my desperation or just noticed I didn’t have plans, but within days of tossing my cap in the air once again, I’d packed my bags and moved back into his guest room. I had a job I hated, an ex girlfriend who haunted my every thought, and soon a problem I couldn’t fix myself. I liked the way the emptiness in my stomach matched the emptiness I felt, as if it was some kind of disgusting poetic symmetry that made me fragile and in control at the same time. It was all so romanticized and tragic until my brother started to see. I think he could see how alone I was, because he began extending every invitation he could to me, pizza with his friends, dinner with clients, stay in and order Chinese, it seemed like every day he had a new offer. I managed to avoid making a commitment, making up other plans, spending my night walking around the block just so he’d think I had my own life. Until one day he caught me, standing in the kitchen staring off into space, willing myself to put something in my mouth. He was on his way out, and asked if I wanted to join them, it was wing night Wednesday, I remember his voice echoing through my mind for a few seconds before I could hear what he was saying, and when I finally made out the words all I could think to say was that I couldn’t afford food. To him that meant that finances were tight and I couldn’t justify spending money so freely, but the notion of affording food was something so completely different to me, I hadn’t earned it. I couldn’t afford to give myself the basic kindness of fulfilling that need, because I didn’t see myself as worthy, because I still hated the person I saw in the mirror, and I still didn’t feel like I had that control. Andy didn’t make it to the bar that night, because after he slammed the door and walked towards the car I collapsed. The world became too bright, the sound of traffic outside was too loud and then it was dark. He told me later that after getting to the car he realized he’d forgotten his wallet and that was the only reason he went back into the house, and that is the tiny glimpse of fate that led him finding me, led to my summer in the hospital, and I guess in a long drawn way, led to my life as what it had become. 



“I’m sorry,” I put the hotdog down and wrapped my arm around his waist, hugging him awkwardly. “I didn’t mean it like that. I was kidding.”

“Yeah, I know,” he slipped his arm over my shoulders. “I just worry about you.” 



“You don’t need to, I’m fine,” I smiled, trying to convince him then took another bite for good measure.

“I know you are,” he hugged me a little tighter. “You look really good. Healthy. It’s comforting.”

“I’m trying,” I admitted. “It’s easier now than it was at first, but I wake up every morning and force myself to try.” We let go of each other but still stood side by side.

“I’m proud of you,” he smiled. “And just so you know, I’ve been saving up my holidays so if you want help while Sidney’s away I have the time. I mean I don’t know what you have arranged with Mum and I don’t know anything about babies, but I figured you might want another set of hands at some point.”

“Thanks big brother,” I squeezed his forearm and finished my hot dog. We turned our attention back to the game, having had enough of the heartwarming sentimental stuff for one night, just in time to see Sid tie up the game at 2 a piece.


I spent the last minutes of 2013 and the first of 2014 in Sidney’s arms. A year since our first real fight, and Serena walking in on us. We made it to the party this time, but still spent the night snuggled together on the couch watching the party around us. I realized as we watched our friends talking and drinking, that it didn’t matter where we spent our holidays or big moments. In the end, I just wanted him beside me because nothing else really mattered.

Notes

I don't really have anything valuable to say here other than it took me way too long to write this chapter.

Someday I'm going to quit school and write forever.... hopefully.

xx-T