Stay, Stay, Stay

“I got your gifts,” Sid said softly when I answered the phone. It was nearly nine in the morning my time and 4 in the afternoon Sochi time. I was dozing in and out of sleep on the couch with Lachlan feeding happily but woke up as soon as I heard the phone. I’d been dying to hear from him since he left a little over twenty-four hours before.

“I was hoping you'd find them,” I’d hidden a few tokens from home in his suitcase the day before, just silly things like a our framed family picture and Lachlan’s blanket. I’d also slipped in a letter I’d written the morning he left when I couldn’t sleep and a non-Valentine’s day gift with strict instructions not to open it until after his game that day and a clause stating I still didn’t believe in the day but I liked buying him things.

“Thank you,” his voice was still soft, almost a whisper. “I’m sorry I didn’t call right away. It was nearly four in the morning your time when we finally got settled in and I didn’t want to wake you up.”

“That’s okay,” I murmured. “What’s it like? Is it nice? Who are you rooming with? Have you skated yet?” I lazily threw questions at him.

“It’s alright,” he chuckled. “Not as bad as the internet was making it look, but we got here later than everyone else so it might have been. I’m with Shea Weber again.”

“That’s good,” I was clinging to his every word, trying to visualize it and pretend I was there. “and the ice?”

“Yeah, we skated this afternoon. It’s nice. I always forget how much bigger it is.”

“Does that make it harder?” I looked down at Lachlan who was still sucking eagerly.

“Not harder, we just play a bit differently. How’s Spud?”

“He’s good,” I smiled even though he couldn’t see me. “Eating right now.”

“Lucky guy,” Sid teased. “Turn on the video? I miss looking at you.”

We spent the next twenty minutes making faces at each other and discussing the upcoming games. They were set to take on Norway the next day and he was excited to get started. His parents were due to arrive that night and I had to hide the pang of jealousy that shot through me knowing that they would get to watch the games live. Lachlan finished eating just in time for Sid to witness him spit up all over me then begin screeching. As I was trying to calm him down, without having to say goodbye to my peripatetic husband, I felt his body tense, then relax and a warmth spread up his back. The smell quickly violated the room and I was left trying to balance a very messy child and the phone.

“See what you’re missing?” I groaned, getting to my feet and leaving the phone on the arm of the couch.

“I’ll make sure I bring home my 35 or so allotted condoms,” he laughed at my pain and I scowled, unsure if he could see me but hoping he could feel my death glare.

“Well smelling like this you’ll never have to question if he’s yours,” I grabbed the phone and stuffed it down my shirt while I carried Lachlan to the bathroom sink.

“Oooh, shots fired!” Sid called from inside my bra. “Y’know, this is the closest I’ve been to boobs in a month.” He continued as I filled the sink with warm water and stripped Lachlan of his now stained pyjamas and soiled diaper, gagging the entire time.

“Oh my god! It’s in his hair!!” I cried along with him, trying to clean up the mess and pacify him at the same time. I realized I should have disconnected the call with Sid, but it was too late now. Sid stayed on the line, making the occasional comment, until I was able to get Lachlan cleaned and wrapped in a fresh towel— fresh thanks to my mother who had been doing laundry almost daily.

“I’d still rather be home dealing with poop,” Sidney said once I’d pulled him out of my bra and was in Lachlan’s barely used room fastening his fresh diaper. Before he was born I planned on using cloth diapers and being as environmental as possible… but after two days I’d switched over to disposable and hadn’t looked back.

“You say that now,” I tried to shimmy Lachlan into a clean onesie but was met with more howling. “But just wait until you get that first full night’s sleep.”

“Good point,” he wrinkled his nose and smiled. “But I do miss you guys.”

“We miss you too,” I sighed. We’d made our way to the rocking chair and Lachlan was finally starting to settle down.

Before he could reply the door behind him opened and I heard voices, his attention shifted to them and I watched him talking to the headless figures behind him, knowing my time was up. “I gotta go, babe. The women’s team just questioned our ping pong skills and I’m being called to defend our honour.”

“Oh boy, that sound really important, honey. You better go show them how good you are on the table,” I replied sarcastically with a wink. I heard the guys in the background ‘ooh’ and my slightly suggestive comment.

“I love you,” he winked back. “I’ll call you tomorrow. Be good, Spud. Say hi to Big Bea and your mum.” And with that he was gone and the moments of normalcy faded back into the reality that I was here and he was there.

It was the days without him that I realize how much my life had changed in the last year. Never mind the giant house and the very Crosby looking infant in my arms, the differences that I noticed were more subtle. This time two years ago I would have never really been lonely, because not only did I live with my best friend, but I had and entire team of derby friends. Two years ago I was Beatrix Plotter, not “Mrs.Crosby” as I was still often called. But I hadn’t talked to the girls on the team since before NHL playoffs last season. I was that person I hated, the one who got a boyfriend and ditched her friends. I wanted to call a few of them, but it felt wrong, like they’d think I was only reaching out because I had no one else, and maybe that wasn’t so far from the truth. I wished I’d taken the time to meet the other wives and girlfriends, to join their close knit community, but I’d always been so anxious around them, like they were so much prettier and cooler, and I was just the dorky girl who got lucky. Of course it hadn’t helped that Sidney had insisted on keeping us a secret for so long, but I could have tried harder.

We settled in the living room, four generations of Kellers and barely taking up half of the room. The house always felt empty without Beau and Sidney but I was surprised by just how empty it could seem with two other people here. Mum and Big Bea were so quiet compared to the boys who usually filled the space of our home. I had never imagined there would come a day when I would miss Beau and James bickering in the background or roughhousing without any regard for social expectations. Lachlan sat with my mum in his tiny team Canada jersey that still seemed to hang off of him. On the back of it were itty bitty letters spelling out Crosby, with an equally petite 87. It was a gift from Uncle Geno and Auntie Serena, and came with a Lachlan sized replica of the #11 jersey Geno was wearing for Russia— both in separate boxes of course. No one spoke as we watched the commercials, waiting eagerly for the puck drop of Canada’s first hockey game of the Sochi olympics. Despite having talked to him that morning, I couldn’t wait for his face to appear on our oversized television.

The opening credits rolled and the announcers welcomed viewers at home, and there he was. Hair pushed back, face flushed and wet with sweat, but grinning, because he was doing exactly what he’d always been meant to do.

“Look Lachy, it’s your daddy!” I beamed and his mouth twitched into what could have been a smile or could have been a poop face.

“First of all Sid,” the reporter began, “Congratulations on your new position as Dad! How has that been?”

Sid grinned, the same big smile he gave me every morning where his cheeks almost covered his eyes and the wrinkles around them became prominent. “Thank you,” he chuckled. “It’s been great, he’s definitely changed our lives. Fortunately everything went wonderfully, baby and mum are both healthy and strong.”

“That’s great, and did baby Crosby make it over here for the games?”

“No, little too young for international travel just yet. He’s home with my wife, hopefully watching this,” Sid winked and I imagined I was the only one in the world who’d seen it.

“How hard is it to focus being so far away from your family, especially a new baby?” It was a question I never thought they’d ask, something so personal compared to the usual shop talk Sid requested, but he didn’t hesitate to answer.

“It’s hard to be apart, it’s never easy to be away from your family and a lot of players are experiencing that right now. But I’m here to play and hopefully go home successful. He definitely gives me a bit of an extra boost of inspiration though.”

“Gotta make him proud. Thanks a lot, Sid. Have a great game.”

“Thanks, Elliott,” Sid smiled at the reporter, then turned to the camera, waiting for the coverage to switch from his face to the ice. It was something I’d noticed he did that very few other players did. He always knew the name of the reporter, and was never in a hurry to leave. He appeared calm and collected, not unlike the Sidney I fell in love with.

“So we’re just going to film a bit of you guys watching the game and we’ll go over the pre-screened questions. If at any point you feel uncomfortable or need us to stop filming just say so,” the shaggy haired director/producer/whatever of NHL revealed stood in front of me repeating the same thing he’d said twice already. It turned out Sidney wasn’t the only one who felt the need to say everything over and over.

“Okay, Shane,” I nodded. I was humouring him, just as I had the first four times. “I’m just going to feed him before the game starts.” Puck drop was at noon, but they’d been in the house since 7am; Shane, two camera people, and three other people whose jobs were unclear to me. Canada was set to take on Austria and Sidney and I were spending our second Valentine’s day apart. I tried to push the memory of where i’d been on this day just a year before out of my mind and began undoing the snaps of my new grey nursing sweater. Cradling Lachlan in one arm I tried to cover myself with a blanket as I pulled out my breast but it slipped down and i was left holding a baby and exposing myself to 6 strangers. Quickly, I moved Lachlan to my breast, covering what society considered an immodest female body part with his head. My nipples felt raw and sore, not unlike my sad, abused uterus. Only I couldn’t slather my uterus with nipple butter.

“Would you like some privacy?” Shane asked, avoiding eye contact and looking at the wall behind me.

“No,” I replied instantly. I hated the way breastfeeding made people uncomfortable. The way they’d steal side glances but ultimately look at me with judgement and disgust. I looked down at Lachlan, who was drinking contently, his tiny fist grasping the fabric of my sweater and his eyes closed peacefully. These moments of stillness with him were the highlight of my day. The minute he fell into the slow rhythmic sucking patter it didn’t seem to matter who was around or what they thought. Somedays it hurt, like shards of glass were floating in my mammaries and moving through my milk ducts, but it was okay. In fact, that pain was a relief, because unlike the pain I felt being away from Sidney, I could do something to ease this.

“So this is your first interview, right?” Shane asked when my breast had returned to the safety of my shirt and Lachlan had been passed to Big Bea.

“I appeared on my best friend’s radio show a few years ago, but other than that, yup. This is my big brush with stardom,” I replied dryly. I’d already mentioned this would be my first appearance alone… twice. This Shane fellow, although charming in his own shaggy haired way, was definitely not on his way to becoming my favourite person. I pulled my Canada jersey over my head while Big Bea wrestled Lachlan into his.

“Right, cool… cool,” he nodded. “So I guess we’ll get started… just look act natural, like we’re having a conversation.” Because that would ever happen. “Tell us the time and where we are,” he said quietly as the camera clicked on.

“It’s nearly noon in Pittsburgh and we’re getting ready for puck drop in Sochi.” I smiled like this was my second job, imaging I was talking to someone who didn’t make me want to roll my eyes so far back I’d end up seeing my own frontal lobe.

“How does it feel to see your husband as the captain of the Canadian team?”

“It’s great, I’m proud of everything he does and I know he is very honoured to wear the C internationally. I’d rather be seeing it live, but I’m just happy to see him doing what he loves.” I wasn’t about to tell him how I’d cried for hours after he left and considered hopping a plane to join him despite his requests.

“Why didn’t you go?”

“We just had a baby a few days ago and unfortunately the Olympics really aren’t the place for a newborn ,” I chuckled, not mentioning that the olympics probably weren't the best place for postpartum healing, and glancing at Lachlan who was looking around the room from his place in his great-grandmother’s arms. I hadn’t decided if he’d be making his first appearance just yet but I hope he’d stay that peaceful either way.

Someone asked me the next question but I was too busy watching Lachlan to hear anything they’d said. I was trying to be a good host and interviewee, but after five hours of strangers in my home I was sick of them. The mousy looking assistant who barely spoke when I greeted him was irritating to look at, the main camera guy who hadn’t bothered to take off his shoes kept sniffling, and of course there was Shane whose demanding presence was exhausting and on the verge of being unwelcome.

"Mrs. Crosby?" Shane said a little louder, pulling me back into the moment.

"Keller-Crosby," I corrected him. It wasn't like he hadn't been told about our hyphenated last names, it was pretty common knowledge. "It's Mrs. Keller-Crosby."

"Oh, right. Yeah sorry," he threw a rush apology my way and moved on. "Have you had a chance to talk to your husband since he landed in Sochi?"

"Nearly everyday," I smiled politely. "They have internet in Russia." When I'd reviewed the questions I hadn't realized how mundane and shallow they seemed. Not that I wanted to expose the nitty gritty, messy parts of our life, but I wouldn't mind answering something with some substance. I was realizing I had too many opinions for someone who was viewed by the public as just a wife.

"Well the games about to start, how about we finish this part after?" Shane suggested. It might have been the smartest thing he'd said all day. When I agreed to do the interview I really hadn't given enough thought to just how tired I would be. I wanted to give them every shot they needed but I was struggling to keep my eyes open and my mood cheery.

Having a camera on me while I watched my husband was awkward to say the least. I was trying to keep my reactions polite and composed, I didn't want to say anything that could be edited the wrong way or misrepresent us. But by the second period my composure was slipping and I'd already started to mumble to myself about the game. By the third I'd forgot the cameras were there, Lachlan was definitely going to be on T.V and I had no idea what I'd actually said. Canada won 6-0 and the room erupted in excited cheers. I watched intently as Sidney appeared on the screen, celebrating with his teammates and before I could remember that I had my own set of cameras watching me, nonchalantly looked at Lachlan and said the one thing I'd live to regret.

"Well buddy, you better get used to seeing your daddy on this screen."

By dinner time the cameras has been packed away and I’d given Shane what he wanted to hear. After what felt like an eternity, the day was finally coming to a close and the sun had set leaving the house dark. I fed Lachlan for what felt like the millionth time that day then handed him off to my mother in the hopes of getting a few minutes of sleep before dinner. I don’t know how I would have survived without my mum and Big Bea helping, the idea of them leaving was something I couldn’t bring myself to think about because I wasn’t entirely sure I could do it myself. I trudged up the stairs, dragging my tired body towards the bedroom and hoping sleep would meet me once my head hit the pillow. The street lamps cast a shadowy light through the open window and outside I could see that it was snowing again. The snow had never bothered me, I was too used to it to mind, and in fact it was a nice way to end the day. I like knowing that when I woke up the next morning the city would be under a fresh blanket of crisp whiteness, as cliche as it seemed, it was a fresh start. I kicked off my pants and pulled off my sweater, and was two seconds away from face planting onto the bed when I saw my usual collection of pillows had been replaced with something else. Too curious to be annoyed by the interruption I flicked on the bedside lamp and in the warm glow of the tungsten lightbulb I saw the gifts from my wayward valentine.

There were two packages wrapped with brown paper and a vase carefully balanced behind them filled with the most vibrant sunflowers I’d ever seen away from a potato field. I didn’t make it to the bed before my overactive tear ducts kicked into high gear and I was a sniffling mess. I had no idea how they’d got there, but I knew before opening the card they were from him. I moved the heavy vase from the bed—where it had been placed on a tray, the kind of ingenuity that had Beatrice Keller the first written all over it— and marvelled at the sheer size of the bouquet. Each flower was almost the size of my face and there had to be at least 10 of them. I’d never seen such an extravagant bundle of sunflowers in my life— which had Sidney written all over it. Once the flowers were safe on the night stand I reached for an envelope with my name written in his loopy slanted handwriting.

Bea,
Before you do that thing where you roll your eyes and tell me you don’t believe in Hallmark created holidays and think consumerism is the worstest like ever, this is NOT a Valentine’s day gift! Not even close. This is me thanking you for giving me Lachlan and being my amazing wife. It just so happens that this was the day I chose to give it to you. Weird coincidence. Whatever day it may or may not be on the North American calendar I wish I was there with you guys.
I love you, I love you, I love you!
Sidney

I read the letter over and over. It was written inside a blank card with a drawing of a flower on the front of it. I imagined it was the most generic thing he could find to really drive home his point about it not being a valentine. I loved looking at his writing, knowing he’d stopped his day to fill the emptiness that had previously been between the pages of the card. When I’d finally memorized his words and the curls of the ink I unwrapped the smaller of the two packages. Under the soft brown paper was a jewelled C.D case with a shakily drawn bumble bee on the paper insert in the cover of it. On the other side he’d written a list of songs.

Must Have Done Something Right- Relient K
My Favourite Book- Stars
Something- The Beatles
I Will Follow You Into the Dark- Death Cab for Cutie
Baby I Love You- The Ramones
God Only Knows- The Beach Boys
Favourite Girl- The Icarus Account
Help Me - Joni Mitchell
Sweater Song- Hedley
Brand New Key- Melanie
I Choose You- Sara Bareilles
Tupelo Honey- Van Morrison

In my hands I held my very own mixtape, the first that had ever been given to me, and likely the first he’d ever made for someone. It was saccharine, corny, like nothing I’d ever received…it was perfect.

The other package contained a candle I’d been eyeing a few months ago but hadn’t been willing to spend the money on, with a note instructing me to put on the CD, light the candle, lay down and take it all in. And so I did. I lit the candle, put the CD into the small stereo in our room, and crawled under the covers. My mind immediately started racing, but unlike my usual racing thoughts this wasn't overwhelming or unnerving, it was refreshing. I thought about the early days with Sidney, the awkward encounters and our mutual hesitation. I tried to remember a specific moment when I knew it was right, that event that would be the climax if our life had been made into a movie, but there wasn't one. There was just a collection of images, my own mental montage of his smile, the looks he gave me when he thought I wasn't paying attention, the way his eyelids fluttered in his sleep while the incoherent words left his parted lips, there were memories of the faces we made at each other, the tear filled reunions after arguments or trips away; the quiet nights we lay there basking in the glow of our little world. Between my own mental film reel and my the songs coming through the speakers I felt my heart swell and ache and I knew I needed to hear his voice.

"Are you taking it all in?" he answered and I imaged he was off in a hidden corner of the athlete's village where no one would find him, maybe the light of the street lamps or in a quiet room while everyone else slept.

"I am," I managed to whisper as the tears flooded down my face cascading down the hills of my cheeks and onto the quilt.

"Do you like it?"

"Yes," I laughed, hiccuping in the middle of the word.

"It's a little dorky," he chuckled quietly. I wondered if he'd been nervous for me to open it, it was so unlike anything he'd ever given me.

Notes

For those of you who aren't familiar with the workings of potato fields, when they're rotating crops in PEI they often plant sunflowers in the potato fields to enrich the soil. It's beautiful.

Also,
I made a playlist of the mixtape if you're interested.
https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLHRMMCtyCZ-2P75fjZgdScbn9N9SDy-fG

xx-T