I was changing Lachlan’s diaper when the call came. 3:44 in the morning and the house phone rang obnoxiously throughout the house. I knew the second the sound reached my ears that what awaited us on the other line was far from pleasant. There were only three reasons the house phone rang, telemarketers, misdirected business calls, and family. Scooping Lachlan up I hustled to make it to the nearest landline before the sound woke up the rest of the house, but it was too late and heard my mother answer from the kitchen. There was an anxious, dark feeling in the pit of my stomach and I dreaded the moment she hung up and relayed whatever news she had to us. I took my time securing the snaps of his soft white and blue striped pyjamas, waiting to hear my mother hang up the phone before emerging from the safety of the nursery. When I came into the kitchen, Lachlan cradled against my chest and drifting back to sleep, I immediately noticed my mother slumped over in a chair at the counter. Her head was in her hands and Big Bea stood beside her talking softly.

“I hope we didn’t wake you,” my grandmother spoke while my mother remained silent with her head facing the floor.

“No, we were up,” I hesitated to ask, was I really ready to hear the kind of news that had left my mother of all people speechless.

“Good, come sit down,” she motioned for the chair on the other side of her and I did as I was told, the anticipation building inside of me. My mind was hypothesizing what could be wrong. Was it my father? Had he been hurt? Were Lyla and Felix okay? Had the house caught fire?

“It’s Simon,” Big Bea spoke as if she’d heard my inner dialogue. “He was in an accident. His car hit a patch of ice on the highway and rolled…”

“Oh god,” I groaned, interrupting her. “What about Helen and Felix? Were they with him?”

“No, he was alone. Driving home from a friend’s in Cardigan. It happened along that stretch right before Cherry Valley, the one without the houses.” I knew exactly what she was talking about and remembered how many times I’d carelessly zipped down that very road. “He’s been flown into Halifax.”

It was that sentence that held the most significance. Any maritimer would tell you that Halifax meant business. With so much of Eastern Canada being made up of small towns and rural communities, Halifax was the hub. You went to Halifax to get an abortion, to catch an international flight, hell some of us went to Halifax to shop. But if you said someone was flown into Halifax everyone knew it meant something serious, it meant life threatening, that the problem was bigger than what could be fixed at home.

“Was that Daddy? Did he tell you what happened?” I spit questions at her trying to bypass the part where I realized my brother is in critical condition.

“It was,” she motioned for me to follow her to the other room, away from my mother who was in her own little world of despair. “He was unconscious when they found him. All your Dad said was that Simon’s got a punctured lung and they don’t know the extent of his internal injuries, but he’s meeting him in Halifax,” she told me when we were in the safety of the laundry room. I tried to process the information without letting the storm of emotions brewing inside of me cloud my vision. But there was only so much I could do and I quickly felt panicky tears pushing out of my eyes. I swallowed hard but my throat was tight and sore from trying to quell my emotions.

“Okay,” I took a staggered breath. “Oh god,” I wiped angrily at the tears with my free hand. Lachlan was awake and starting to fuss so I began rocking while my mind circled in a flurry of worst case scenarios and dread. The image of Simon, my usually goofy and vibrant brother strapped to a hospital bed attached to machines snuck into my mind and planted itself at the centre of my thoughts. I could see Helen distraught and I wanted to scream because the image alone was torturous. How was my grandmother so calm when the world was slowly starting to shatter around me.

“I’ll get you the soonest flight to Halifax,” I said without thinking. “If there isn’t one we’ll charter one. And tell Helen I’ll pay for her flight and hotel and anything you guys need.”

“Honey, you don’t need to…” she began but I shook my head.

“You need to be there more than you need to be here.” I was trying to choke back tears and handle the situation instead of breaking completely. “Mum,” I called as I left the laundry room, heading back to the kitchen. I found her in the same place we’d left her, slumped over and crying quietly to herself. I hadn’t seen her in many situations like this, our lives had been blessed with only a few major traumas and I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen my mother fall apart.

“Mum you need to go pack,” I stood behind her. “I’m going to get you flights to meet Daddy in Halifax.” I hoped the mention of my father would catch her attention but it was as if she hadn’t heard me at all. I couldn’t stand seeing her so heartbroken and left to call the airline while Big Bea tried to coax her up to their rooms. Sidney’s office felt cold and lonely without him. It wasn’t a room I frequented when he wasn’t in it. It was formal, generic, there were no mementos or photographs, just a bookshelf of leadership books and his big, heavy desk. There was a couch, Lachlan’s chair, and a computer. We kept the sports memorabilia and real bookshelves in the basement rec room, another place I rarely found myself. The only personal touch I found was the wallpaper on his computer, the picture Serena had taken of us just minutes after Lachlan was born. We both looked so tired, my face was swollen and the thin skin under my eyes was dark and bruised looking, but we were smiling, genuine happiness radiating from both of us. We were a family in that moment.

I made the arrangements and got them first class seats on a flight leaving at eight that morning. They’d have a brief stop in Newark, but would be home by dinner time. I found Sidney’s emergency Gold Card hidden away in the safe and thanked whatever deity watched over the world that I was able to so easily spend so much money. Lachlan whimpered from his chair on the desk beside me, obviously not impressed that I’d put him down in favour of the computer.

“Hold on, Little Bear,” I tried to soothe him. Returning the card to the safe, I grabbed one of the small piles of Canadian bills we had locked away for emergencies and made a note to replace them when I got to a bank. The safe had both American and Canadian currency and I’m sure it was just a matter of time until the Euro was thrown into the mix. I had to hand it to Sidney, he was always prepared. In fact, it wouldn’t surprise me if he had some kind of hidden bomb shelter complete with apocalypse survival kits. He didn’t take his wealth for granted and I admired his sensibility and logic among other things. Lachlan’s cries grew louder as I printed off the itinerary and in turn I felt my frustration growing. I knew it was unreasonable to expect him not to cry, especially when I was projecting such an unpleasant energy, but the last thing I needed was him having a meltdown while I tried to hold together the pieces of myself and my mother.

We left shortly after I’d booked the tickets. The drive to the airport was tense and silent with the exception of Lachlan’s occasional cries. He could feel the tension and I felt guilty surrounding him with such negativity for so long but as I’d learned time and time again, I couldn’t control the world or what happened to us. We said a tearful goodbye, and I handed my grandmother the envelop of colourful bills despite her protests. I never thought there would come a day when I would be handling two thousand dollars with such ease, but it didn’t even phase me, all I could think about was making their lives as easy as possible. I left the airport with the intention of going home and back to bed, but as I drove through the city with the bleakness of the cloudy sky above me the wheels in my mind began racing, producing the disturbing images all over again. It was torture having to stay in Pittsburgh while my family was united by tragedy. For the first time in Lachlan’s life I was completely alone and there was no way I could go home to the full realization of the emptiness of my house. We drove in circles for over an hour before his screaming became unbearable and I finally found a safe place to hideaway from the world.

It took twenty minutes to climb the stairs to the purple door that had once signified home. I was out of breath by the time I finally knocked, hoping Serena was home, and Lachlan was still snivelling from his place wrapped safely against my chest.

“Bea?” she looked at me confused after opening the door, still in her pyjamas and hair piled in a mess on the top of her head.

“I…” I opened my mouth to speak, trying to find some kind of explanation for showing up so early but instead of words the tears came back with a vengeance and I felt myself crumble against her, Lachlan pressed between us matching me sob for sob. Serena led us into the living room and carefully undid the knot in the green fabric that was holding Lachlan against me and took him into her arms. His face was red and frustrated, his grey knit cap coming down to his eyebrows and his body layered in a long sleeve onesie and thick knitted winter layette. Serena pulled off his hat and once I knew he was being taken care of I let myself fall apart completely, dropping the diaper bag from my shoulder and retreating to my old bedroom. I needed a few minutes alone, to try to process everything that had happened that morning.

Pushing off my jacket and kicking out of my pants, I crawled under the covers of my still made bed. I hadn’t been to the apartment in months, but somehow my room remained untouched. I knew there would come a day when I would move the rest of my stuff into the house permanently, and Serena and I would move on from our little home that we once shared, but neither of us were in a rush. There was something comforting about having this little piece of our shared history preserved. I let the tidal wave wash over me and let go of that piece of composure I’d been clinging to, falling into the abyss of anguish while my best friend took care of my son. The thought of Lachlan reminded me of Simon, at one point in time he’d been my mother’s Lachlan. It was a whole new kind of pain thinking of the world from that perspective. I tried to push the thought of my mother’s reaction to the call out of my mind but like the images it stuck and held my thought patterns hostage. Everything inside me ached as I heard the shaky, muffled cries of sorrow leave my mouth and enter the world only to be trapped by the pillow I’d purposely positioned to silence my screams.

It’s amazing how quickly the feelings of sorrow can shift to anger. Violent, bubbling furious rage stormed through me and left me with fists clenched and legs thrashing against the bed under me. I wanted to smash things, destroy whatever had done this to him. My life felt like a series of extreme highs and lows that I couldn’t control and left me so powerless that I wondered how much of my life was even my doing. I couldn’t contain the power of my wrath any longer, and I swept through the room like a hurricane throwing anything in my path while the tears poured from me as if my body was an endless well and the emotions were pumping them out furiously. I was bleary-eyed and by the time I’d run out of things to throw I collapsed back onto the bed to survey the wreckage. There were clothes, C.Ds, books, and pillows strewn around the nearly empty room. Nothing was broken, but it was a disaster zone. For the countless time since he left I longed for my husband. Not because he’d know how to handle the situation and offer me calming words, but I needed his arms to stabilize my trembling body and keep me grounded when I so desperately wanted to fall back into the darkness. I wanted the feeling of home that I could only find in his rough hands and wide almond eyes.

I slowly pulled myself back to reality willing the tears to stop and my breathing to return to normal. When I opened my eyes again the room was still and so was I. After all the force of emotion I was perfectly still. It was a strange peacefulness that only lasted a minute before I heard Lachlan’s loud wails coming from the other side of the door and Serena’s frantic pleas for him to stop. I’d had my time for the selfish, childish tantrum, but I knew I needed to go back to my life and take care of my responsibilities.

“C’mere big guy,” I reached out for him after having composed myself in the other room. “What’s wrong? Today just not your day?” I asked him rhetorically. “Today is not a lot of people’s day,” I sighed and switched from pacing to sitting on the couch to feed him.

“So…” Serena looked at me hesitantly after he’d latched on and stopped screaming.

“Sorry,” I shook my head embarrassed. “I’m just overwhelmed.”

“It’s fine,” she said beside us. “I’m glad you came. I think I’d be pretty overwhelmed too. Where’s your mum?”

“I just dropped them off at the airport,” I croaked, feeling my throat tighten again. “Simon got into a car accident last night and was flown to Halifax.” I tried to fight the tears again and cleared my throat forcefully.

“Shit,” she hissed. “Is he….”

“Punctured lung and head trauma. He hit ice and rolled the car on the stretch before Cherry Valley,” I recited the facts as if they were just another medical file I was reading at work.

“Fuck,” she murmured under her breath, shaking her head and rubbing her brow. “Are you okay?”

I took a deep breath and tried to come up with an answer for her. Of course I wasn’t okay, but at the same time I wasn’t the one in the hospital. “I kind of have to be,” I shrugged. And it was the truth. What else could I be if not okay. I didn’t really have any other options, I was basically alone, and even if I wasn’t I still couldn’t let myself fall apart completely, I had Lachlan to worry about now.

“I guess you’re right,” she dropped her hand and gave me a sad, reluctant smile. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Can we just sit for a while?” I spoke so quietly I was surprised when she responded with a nod and leaned back on the couch, curling her legs under her body.

And so we sat. We turned on Netflix and sat side by side on the couch like we had so many heartbreaks before. Although unlike the days before, we had Lachlan with us so the sitting was regularly interrupted by his demanding cries and need to be constantly moving. We traded off, pacing around the small apartment every few minutes in the hopes that he would fall back into a silent slumber. It was what I imagined having a partner around constantly would feel like, a kind of back and forth sharing of tasks.

Sidney called at a few minutes past noon, seven at night Sochi time and I struggled to find the words to explain what had happened. Not because I worried about upsetting him, but because I wanted desperately to forget it had ever happened. So instead of relaying what my grandmother had told me, I avoided the subject all together. I told him how proud we were of him and how I couldn’t wait to watch the semis. We talked about Lachlan and how much he’d already grown, but not once did I even hint that things had gone awry. He’d find out soon enough, and until then I was on my own anyway. It had become abundantly clear that there was nothing he could do to “fix” things for me, not from Russia, not even from Pittsburgh.

I knew the second it typed his name into the search bar that I was playing with fire. I was breaking one of the first promises I made when we started dating: Do not emotionally google Sidney. As the captain of the defending gold medal team all eyes were on him, my superstar husband. I went on hoping to find interviews and footage more out of curiosity than anything, but there was a hint of longing. He’d been away for nearly two weeks and I was lonely, selfishly desperate to see his face, but he was busy and I couldn’t bother him. It was the third result on the first page, between game highlights from CBC and SportsNet. The words shot out at me and smacked me in the face: “Crosby’s Side Girl?”

I knew I shouldn’t click it. Reading whatever was written on the next page was only going to cause trouble, no good could come of it. But of course, that didn’t stop me and within two seconds the page had loaded. There she was. The perfect stereotype of what a WAG should be. She was beautiful, blonde, slim, hair and makeup immaculate, drowning in what was obviously an XS jersey, and she was hugging Trina. I looked down at my spit up stained sweatshirt and ripped leggings. There were quarter sized wet patches at my chest were milk had leaked out and holes in the knees and crotch of my pants. My hair was pulled up into a greasy, tangled mess on my head and I knew there was nothing attractive about me or my lumpy, stretched out body. But her, I didn’t think it would be even possible for her to look half as disheveled as I did that moment. I scrolled down despite myself and was met with more pictures of this perfect stranger sitting with my in laws watching the game I had been forced to miss. Under each picture was more speculation. “Is Sid stepping out?” “Trouble in Paradise?” “Sid the Kid Has Finally Upgraded.” They questioned if Lachlan was really his, or if it was just a set up. Each word I read stung more and more but what hurt the most was the final picture, Sidney standing beside her with his parents, laughing and smiling. Her hand was on his arm and he didn’t look uncomfortable.

My hyper mind began to circle. Was this the reason he didn’t want me going to the games? Did his whole family know about this other relationship and I was just the fool? I tried to quiet my thoughts. My rational mind tried to remind me that Sidney loved me and we were a family, his parents would never do that to me. But my paranoia was louder. I wanted to cry, I wanted to call him and demand an answer. With everything that had happened over the past few days I felt like I was being pushed to my breaking point. Beside me Lachlan’s whimpers were turning into cries and my chest was leaking even more forcing me to put my emotions aside once again. I closed the laptop, blew my nose, and picked up the baby from his rarely used chair because no matter what I needed to keep going. I could never stop going.

I was able to push everything from my mind for a few hours. I shifted my focus from my own self-pitying and emotional spiral to Lachlan and the reruns of the original Degrassi playing on MTV. I was beginning to feel genuinely invested in Caitlin and Joey’s relationship when Sidney called and pulled me back to reality.

“Congratulations!” I answered, putting on a brave face. “Ready for the gold game?”

“Don’t jinx it!” he laughed. “Ready to get home too.”

“Not going to miss the freedom of being in Russia, away from diapers and crying?”

“There’s plenty of crying here,” he replied. “I'm looking forward to not sharing a building with hundreds of other athletes."

I considered bringing it up right there, in the middle of the conversation. Straight up ask him if there was someone else. But my nerves got the better of me and I ended up maintaining my facade as the happy wife at home. I felt sick when he hung up. The whole lying by omission business was not my forte and I had to resist the urge to call him back and spill everything I’d been keeping to myself. I was going to have to learn to separate home from his career eventually and there was no better time than when my life was starting to get rocky and he was across the world. Everything could wait until he was home, until he was settled, until the moment was right.

I kept my mouth shut about the girl in the pictures, not even telling Serena when she came over early on the morning the February 23rd to watch the Gold Medal Game. It was next to impossible. Every time I began to speak it threatened to push past the guard I’d built up in the hopes of keeping it pushed deep inside of me. There was a part of me, the tiny, under-utilized logical bit in my brain that tried to remind me I was likely overreacting. But it wasn’t really about the truth as I sat watching the game with Lachlan and Serena in the early hours of the day. It was about the feeling of insecurity I got when faced with the possibility that our relationship was worse off than I’d thought, because in the grand scheme of things I’d thought we were doing alright.

Despite my own inner turmoil it was incredible to see them win. His face lit up with such exuberance that for a moment it was easy to forget that our lives were so complicated and confusing. Everything felt simpler watching him on the ice. The objective was clear, the rules were in place, and everyone had their role. It was so unlike our little world at home with conflicting ideas and jam-packed schedules. But for a few minutes I didn’t need to worry about that, I just had to be proud of him and watch them place the gold medallion around his neck. It hung off him the same way I had the night Lachlan was born, relying on his body and being held up effortlessly. I choked back tears when they sang the national anthem as a team, not because I was overly sentimental or patriotic, but because it meant this was almost over, he was almost home and soon enough, if everything went well, we could try to be a family.

Notes

Today marks two years since I published the first chapter. I cannot believe I'm sitting here today with the end in sight and over 220,000 reads (between the 3 sites.) Thank you so much to all of you for your comments, reads, and overall support.

This chapter wasn't as cheery as the last one that's for sure. But I still want to know what you think.

xx-T