Stay, Stay, Stay

That September I learned that four letters can change a life. Break a life even. C.O.P.D, that’s what took Big Bea away from me. It ripped her from our lives and left a gaping hole in my heart. September 9th. I was fast asleep that morning, until the clock struck four. 4:07am to be exact. I felt myself jolt into the waking world, disarmed and confused by my sudden wakefulness. Beside me Sidney was fast asleep and there were no little footsteps outside my door, therefore no reason to be awoken so suddenly. Glancing at the clock I noted the time, then rolled over, easily finding myself drifting back to sleep. The next time I woke up it was half past seven and my phone rang obnoxiously from the bedside table. I think I knew before I answered that this wasn’t the kind of call I wanted.



 “Dad?” I croaked, voice still horse from sleep, I sat up, waking Sidney as I did.



 “Beatrice,” he spoke softer than I was used to. “Has anyone called you yet?”



 That was all he had to say for me to know that she was gone and my life would never feel the same. We’d been anticipating this day for years, Beatrice Veronique Keller, Big Bea, was older than most lived to, so old in fact she’d received a letter from the Prime Minister on her last birthday… final birthday. 



My father continued as I tried to grasp what had happened. “I’m sorry honey, your grandmother died this morning.” He knew the importance of saying the words because otherwise I’d find a way to convince myself it was all a dream.



 Tears spilled down my face and I tried to struggle out a noise of understanding but instead it came out as heavy sobs. Sid didn’t need to ask, he knew why I was upset and gently took the phone from my shaking hands. I didn’t hear the rest of the conversation because all I could focus on was the fact that it had finally happened, after years of dreading this moment I was finally faced with having to deal with it. She was gone, I’d never see the face of the woman who had been my guiding light staring back at me again. I’d never hold her hands or feel her small frame around me. We’d never joke about the rest of our family, chuckling at how the world never understood us, and sharing stories about my father. Above that, what hit me was that I’d never again sink my teeth into her unbeatable baked goods. Pie crusts, biscuits, and cookies that I had grown up on. The things she didn’t have a recipe for and I’d never had a chance to learn how to make. All of that was gone with her. Her memories, her spirit, her warmth, it was all suddenly absent. I wanted to call her and tell her how upset I was, how hard the world felt and how I wasn’t sure how I’d live without her, but isn’t it cruel how that works out. 

 When I’d caught my breath and Sidney had hung up with my father, he told me she’d died around five that morning, four our time, and I was suddenly overcome with a feeling of familiarity, like somehow she’d been in the room that moment, making sure I knew she loved me just as much as I loved her. She’d done one final check in before saying goodbye.


 I spent the next two weeks in bed, once again relying on Serena and Sidney to fill in for me. I didn’t go to her funeral, not that she had one, it was a grave side service and the idea of packing up the kids to watch her body be lowered into the cold ground, far away from me, made me want to die right beside her. If it weren’t for the kids, I’m not sure I wouldn’t have given into that temptation. 


******


“Please don’t leave,” I murmured weakly when I felt the bed move underneath him. It was still dark outside and I could only make out his edges from the glow of the streetlights. I wasn’t sure I’d ever asked him so frankly, but this wasn’t the first time I felt my chest tightening as he packed the last bits and pieces in his suitcase. I’d come to resent that stupid black bag. Every part of it represented a different feeling of abandonment and heartache. I would have never imagined a suitcase would come to symbolize loneliness in my life. It didn’t get easier, the long trips and days without him. I’d hoped that by year seven it would have, but instead I found myself laying under the blanket swallowing back my emotions as he said nothing. “I need you here,” I croaked, looking up and him and pulling the quilt tighter around me, cocooning myself in the warmth. I was heavily pregnant, bigger than I ever thought possible and sore from head to toe. All I wanted to do was to lay in bed with my husband and hear that this discomfort wouldn’t last forever, but his job came first and for the next week I’d go back to being a single parent.



 “You’ll be okay,” he assured me, kneeling on the bed and kissing my cheek tenderly. “You always are.” But that’s where he was wrong, We had very different definitions of ‘okay.’ To him it meant surviving no matter the pain, but for me, making it through the time apart didn’t mean I was okay, it meant I did what I had to do, being okay meant finding some joy in life, and every so often, no matter how hard I tried, I struggled to find any sort of happiness when he was gone. I knew I had nothing to be unhappy about, I had two healthy kids and another on the way, I had a beautiful house, we were safe and taken care of, but the emptiness lingered and without Sidney to keep my mind on track I found myself fuelling the fire of darkness that constantly burned inside of me.

“How do you know?” I said softly. “You’re not here when you’re gone.” It was such an obvious statement but there was far more to it than the meaning the words held. He wasn’t here when things got hard, and they were hard because he was gone. I’d never wanted to become this person, the one so incredibly attached to another that they lay in bed begging them to say. But i was beyond pretending now. 
 


“It’s only a few days,” Sidney brushed my hair back and tried to comfort me, but nothing could comfort me then, not with his impending departure. What I wouldn’t have given to be a normal family where both parents spent their nights together no matter what. I loved his job, and so did he. But the money and the adventure was no substitute for stability. I sometimes found myself envying the kids who were so adaptable and hadn’t known anything different. Their stability was in me and I never let them see me beaten down and lonely. In some ways I guess they were also my little rocks, but not in the way they ought to be. They were the consistent pieces in my puzzle in a bigger way
than most children, and I so desperately feared becoming too dependent.

Sidney kissed me goodbye and without a word he was gone, leaving me swaddled in blankets with tears in my eyes. I lay like that for another hour before pulling myself into the real world, noting the sense of emptiness that had already drifted into our home. It was all to familiar at this time and I briefly considered laying in bed a little longer, maybe even all day. 

*******


 “I can’t believe we’re having this conversation again,” he chuckled, tossing the notebook onto the dining room table, it was open to a page filled with his chicken scratch, with my neat block letters in contrast on the other side. It was the notebook. The one that held all of our big decisions in the form of pros and cons lists. Baby names, career plans, whether or not we should get a dog, information about cars from the months we spent trying to decide if we wanted to replace mine. It was like a little book of milestones and once again we were pouring over it.



 Lachlan sat beside me at the end of the table, eating his bedtime snack, while Piper was snuggled in Sidney’s arms. Her thumb was in her mouth and her free hand grasped his earlobe, a tired habit she’d had for years that we had yet to worry about breaking. She wasn’t yet three and it kept her quiet, making it the lesser of many evils. When daddy was away, I became her substitute earlobe, but it was evident by the way she stayed awake on the nights he had home games, that I was the second choice. She’d perch herself on the stairs, struggling to stay awake and watching the front door. For most almost three year olds, being awake past eleven at night would be the perfect breeding ground for a total meltdown, but Piper was persistent. Silently, she’d sit, determined to be awake when that front door opened and her dad came home to her.



The anticipation began when the T.V was turned off. Most nights Lachlan was already fast asleep- having long since resigned himself to the fact that his little sister got to stay up hours later than he did. We knew when the post game show was over that he’d be home in an hour or so. Already pyjama clad, we’d spend the first forty minutes reading together on the couch, then, like clockwork, she’d struggle out of my arms and situate herself on the stairs. When the doorknob started to turn she’d be gyrating with excitement, then finally fling herself at him as he crossed the threshold, staying snuggled in his arms until she fell asleep. Sidney didn’t protest, not once did he tell her to wait while he changed out of his suit, instead he began taking his tie off in the car on the way home. He’d retrieve it, along with his coat and bag from the car after he’d tucked her in and we were sure he was asleep. There were days when I envied their relationship, wishing she’d react to me the way she did to him. But seeing them together made me love him more than I could express, and seeing her happy was all I needed. 

 “You’re telling me,” I reached for the notebook, my swollen abdomen forcing me to lift up from my chair to reach it. Sid perched himself on one of the counter stools, still supporting Piper’s little body with only his right arm. I scanned the list, a list we’d started making when we were trying to find a name for Lachlan, hoping to find the perfect name for Baby K.C the third— and by perfect, I meant something we could both learn to love. 



“Leeroy?” I read the name out loud and eyed Sidney with one eyebrow cocked. This had obviously been his contribution because I was naming an infant and not a member of a Tennessee trio who may or may not play the banjo. 



“What’s wrong with Leeroy?” he squawked.



“Nothing,” I shrugged, “If you’re a cowboy.” 

 “Leeroy Keller-Crosby. It’s cool, suave even,” he was trying too hard to convince me.


 “Your daddy is losing it,” I told Lachlan very seriously and he shrugged his little shoulders like I’d done only seconds ago. 



“I know,” he replied matter of factly and took a bite of his apple slice. He pondered for a second as he chewed, then lay his hands flat on the table, dramatically. “I think,” he began, pausing for effect. “We should name the baby Rex.” 
 


“Rex,” I repeated, smirking. I really couldn’t expect more from a six year old. 

 “Or Claude,” he added, without changing his expression. 



 “How about no,” Sidney glanced at him, obviously concerned by his son’s taste. 



“Oh, I like Claude,” I teased. “It’s a great name honey.” 



“Yeah!” Lachlan chimed in. “Lots of great guys are called Claude. Like Uncle Roux!”



 “Someday you’ll understand,” Sid told Lachlan gently, shaking his head in amusement. Sidney and Claude were on great terms personally, but the media didn’t need to know that. The drama of their rivalry was too good to let the world know that our children called Giroux their uncle and we’d had Claude and his wife over to stay in Canada on more than one occasion.



 “Just kidding,” Lachlan rolled his eyes and shook his head as if parents were so dumb, then pushed his chair from the table and ran towards the basement where his beloved shooter tutor was located. 



Sidney sighed and shook his head, amused. “Ten minutes ya goof ball!” he called after him then turned to Piper. “How about you Pippy? What do you want to call the baby?” He tickled her under her chin and she giggled, her smile taking up most of her face just like her dad’s. She spent a few seconds giggling then took her thumb out of her mouth— a habit I’d been trying to break for months.



“Buzz,” she declared thoughtfully, having watched Toy Story that afternoon. 



“And if it’s a baby girl?” I asked.



 “PIPER!” she squealed, grinning again and clapping her damp hands together.



 I nodded and pretended to write them on the list seriously. “Interesting choices, Pipes.” 



With the Sidney reached for the book. “Do you have anything better to add Mummy?” he asked. We’d never meant to refer to each other by our parental titles, but with two kids under seven it was impossible to avoid. 



“Well, Daddy,” I began, cringing at the term that had seen some kind of sexual revival in recent years. “I really like Owen for a girl, or Cordelia, maybe Lydia.”



 “Interesting…” he looked at me with his brows knitted together. “Owen for a girl.” he repeated. “And a boy child?” he asked. 



 “John,” I told him as if it weren’t up for debate. “Absolutely John.”

*****

 I thought by my third pregnancy I’d have everything down pat, but just like the shock of learning we were becoming a family of five, I was constantly surprised by the things my body did. My pregnancy with Piper felt like a cake walk compared to the chaos that was this one. Heartburn had taken over my digestive system and I worried this baby would be born made of Tums, morning sickness didn't ease up until well into the regular season, or in my case the second trimester. I hadn’t met our third child yet, but I had a feeling whoever he or she was we were in for a challenge. 



“How many more babies are you gonna have?” Lachlan asked me one afternoon as we lay on the couch. Piper was on the floor playing and had no interest in the new sibling I was growing for her, but Lachlan was fascinated, He’d lay on his stomach resting his hands against the round bump that held his brother or sister, watching for any sign of activity. The first few times he’d get bored after a few minutes, but as I got further into the pregnancy and we could feel the movement, he was content to stay there for at least half an hour, trying to feel a kick the way you try to catch a shooting star in a meteor shower.



 “I’m not sure, Bud,” I ran my hand though his straight blonde hair, smoothing it back from his forehead. We still didn’t quite know where Lachlan got his blonde hair from. Sidney of course had dark hair and dark eyes and while my ever-changing hair was natural a shade of auburn, neither of us were exactly aryan looking. Our son though, with his big blue eyes was the poster boy for recessive genes. “Why do you ask?”



 He shrugged his little shoulders and went back to trying to catch any kind of movement from the baby. “I just hope you have lots more. Y’know, in case something happens to Piper, I want to make sure I have lots of back ups.” Lachlan spoke so matter of factly, as if there was nothing at all disturbing about what he’d just said. Pulling a toy car out of the space between the couch cushions, he began driving it up my stomach, making car noises as he drove it along the curve of my belly. 

 “Back ups?” I questioned, not sure whether I should smile or be terrified by his innocently sinister statement. “Nothing’s going to happen to your sister,” I shook my head, refusing to let the thought go too far into my mind. 


“Never know,” he gave me a strange smile then hopped off the couch, deciding his car needed more action then just mount Beatrice. 


*****

“Lachlan Keller-Crosby you are going to be late,” I called up the stairs, having sent him upstairs to brush his teeth ten minutes earlier. The snow had come with a vengeance the night before, after giving us mild weather for months. My first thought when I’d seen it was that maybe Sidney’s flight that morning would be cancelled, but after a few minutes I realized my luck didn’t work that way and instead settled for hoping with every inch of me that he made it safely to his destination. Playoffs loomed near and with that so did my due date. I was starting to feel like a human incubator at this point, wondering if my body could every possibly resemble its former self after this baby came. Not that it mattered, I was slowly learning I had more important things to worry about than my waistline, which considering my history was quite the feat. 



“Lachlan Patrick! I said hurry up!” I repeated, undoing Piper’s kitchen booster seat and helping her down from the chair. She was already dressed, ready for the day and all that it had to bring her. 

 “Lachlan Patrick!” she mimicked me, calling for him impatiently. I glanced at her, all too aware that this little girl was turning into her mother, god help her. Now seven, Lachlan was starting to look more like Sidney than ever before, and was just as slow moving. On the ice they were both forces to be reckoned with, but when it came to doing anything else together they were as bad as I was, contrary to what they believed.



 Eventually he hopped down, his hair uncombed and his shirt on backwards but his teeth brushed. Had I not been ready to burst, I would have marched him back up the stairs and made him look presentable, but I could hardly take a deep breath, let alone put the effort into fighting with him over his appearance. Piper however wasn’t. “You look messy,” she told him, hands on her hips and lips pursed. “You wore that shirt yesterday and your hairs is sticky uppy.” Ever the critic, she walked to him and tried to flatten his hair with her hand but struggled to reach. Not even four yet and already she was proving to be the most responsible of our nearly three children. 


****


 That season it felt like the world was changing too quickly. From losing Big Bea in September to Lachlan turning seven in February it felt like things were happening faster than I could handle. Then, after 8 long years as a family, Beau told us he was moving out. Forever the bachelor, he’d become a part of our immediate crew and the idea of not setting a place for him at the dinner table broke my heart. It was March when he began packing boxes and picking out paint colours. Most wealthy athletes would have moved out of their captain’s house after the first few years, but I liked to think it was my hospitality that kept Beau around, that and the convince of having someone to do his laundry.



 “Do you want a slate grey or a warmer more dove grey?” I asked, holding up two paint samples as we stood in Benjamin Moore. 



“You pick,” Beau shrugged, leafing through different greens for his bedroom. 



“I’m not the one who has to live with it,” I reminded him, but picking the dove anyway. We were discussing olive vs. forrest greens when I felt the first flicker. A tightening that struck across my abdomen and made my bump go hard instantly. Forever I would be able to tell this baby I started labour standing between the paint and primer sections.

Notes

Finally!

This wasn't the easiest chapter to write. As many of you read in my last update, I lost my great-grandmother this past September, she inspired Big Bea and losing her threw a wrench in my entire life.

In happier news I graduated in May. I'm now have a degree, but no job. Hopefully that happens soon.

xx- T