All of the Stars

Sleep crusted the corners of Veronica’s eyes as she blinked them open, fingers rubbing away the evidence of the night’s frightful dreams.

Rolling on her back, she felt the knots marking her night spent on the sofa. A knitted blanket fell off her shoulder; she managed to catch it, pulling it up to her chin against the chill morning air in the living room.

The ceiling above seemed to match Veronica’s thoughts - stark, blank, devoid of anything meaningful or memorable.

“You’re awake,” her mother’s voice cut through the silence and Veronica turned to see her padding across the cream carpet with two mugs in hand.

“What time is it?”

Her mother set the steaming mugs of liquid on the coffee table, turning to push open the blinds on the picture window with a flourish. Light poured over them; Veronica blinked against the harsh light, like she wasn’t ready to face the day.

Or any day.

“Why’d you sleep down here?” Sharon ignored the question, proceeding with her own as she settled into the armchair next to Veronica.

Watching the face that matched her own: the copper hair, the eyes that were but a matching set, save for the deeper lines rimming the creases, it wasn’t a surprise her mother didn’t understand. She was the one who left Veronica’s father after fifteen years of marriage - walked out the door without so much a notice, a warning of their unhappiness.

She wasn’t left like Veronica - her soul ripped out, a future uncertain, left to sleep in a huge bed that only reminded her of the mornings before. Like the ones when she’d wake, twisted in sheets, Jeremy’s face pressed between her shoulder blades, a hand snaked up to cup her breast beneath one of his borrowed T-shirts.

“Just…couldn’t sleep,” Veronica admitted, pushing the thoughts away as she avoided the gaze that seemed to bore into her. The ceiling was a much safer place to study.

Despite the interrogation she’d given Jamie - the one Veronica had been clearly able to hear upstairs, even despite her mother attempting to keep her voice low - and the constant looks, the ones that seemed to say you’re better than this...Veronica couldn’t judge her mother completely. She hadn’t been entirely cold and uninviting – in fact, there’d be no way Veronica would have survived the last several days without her. Sharon had orchestrated the entire funeral, made decisions her daughter wasn’t capable of, actually provided an opportunity for Jeremy’s friends and family to pay their last respects.

But now that it was behind them, the disappointment was all that remained. Nevermind the looks on her face; there was the constant prodding of everything that still needed doing in the wake of Veronica losing the love of her life. A woman of action, her mother wanted to see her child move forward, to take care of the things that needed to be taken care of – the house, their finances, Jeremy’s will. Forget the emotional onslaught that felt like it would take a lifetime to wade through.

“Your phone has been buzzing all morning,” Sharon said, blowing on her coffee.

Veronica shrugged, thinking about how much better the hot, steaming beverage before her would taste with a good dose of whisky in it. “Probably one of my girlfriends making sure I haven’t cleaned out the supply of razors at the drug store.”

Sharon clicked her tongue, an involuntary reaction that Veronica would forgive just once. Her mother wasn’t a fan of the suicide comments that’d become second nature in the last week.

“No – it’s that boy,” she said pointedly, eyes hard as they met her daughter’s. “The one that drove you home.”

Veronica twisted in the blanket, pulling herself up to sitting. If she hadn’t spent nearly twenty years under her mother’s roof she’d miss the clipped tone when the words fell from her lips.

“Jamie?” her brow furrowed and she was more than a little confused – was he okay? Was something going on?

Moving to stand, the coffee sloshed over the rim and onto the end table with the urgency of which she set the mug down, already striding into the adjoining kitchen. Veronica’s fingers were barely on the phone before realizing her mother had followed her, hot on her heels as she thumbed over the messages icon.

“Yes. He’s been texting you all morning,” she fussed with a dishcloth, wiping down the counters that were devoid of crumbs or mess or anything that would require cleaning.

It’d been a life-long habit of hers: some people yell when they’re angry, others throw things - Veronica’s mother cleaned counters. Her daughter ignored the telltale behaviour as gouges were nearly worn into the marble.

How are you? The first message read.

We’re all thinking about you, the second one, sent an hour later.

We’re playing for him tonight, the final one, ten minutes earlier. It felt like a punch to the gut and Veronica grabbed the solid stone of the island, steadying herself.

She glanced at the clock – the team would have been wrapping up practice. Jeremy had been so excited about playoffs, the thrill of the postseason like a drug - Veronica had managed to memorize the entire schedule, even despite the gaping hole in her chest. She knew the team was to hold their final morning skate that day, before heading to California in a first-round fight that would test everything they’ve got.

By now Jeremy would have been making sure the team was well prepared for their departure the next day, rounding up team rookies like small children. Then he’d try to get some work done in his office at the rink before the team lunch and meetings. He’d follow it up by sitting in on a conference call with their opposing team’s hockey operations group, ensuring everything would be ready for their arrival in Anaheim.

The thought made her draw in a shaky breath, knowing what it would have meant to Jeremy to have been there. Gone two games, back for two - even with the uncertainty of the playoffs they’d drawn up plans for the regularity of their life.

She’d never experienced playoffs, but Jeremy had brought Veronica along on some of the regular season trips - an overnighter to play the Red Wings earlier in the season, a road trip to Florida during her spring break. There’d been few times the two had been able to get away when the team was playing.

Their next trip was to have been a honeymoon in Italy after the wedding - the first time they would have traveled overseas together.

“I don’t like it,” her mother’s voice interrupted Veronica’s thoughts of dining al fresco, of lazy afternoons spent strolling the streets of Florence – memories they would never make together.

“What?” she asked, setting down the phone without writing back a response. Her arms were folded when Veronica glanced up, lips set in a thin line. It was the same look she used to give when her daughter needed scolding as a child.

“He’s in love with you,” her jaw squared harshly as she said the words Veronica couldn’t believe, words strung together in a sentence. It was like some random binary code that left her confused, unable to make sense of the combination.

“What are you talking about?” Veronica coughed – the closest she’d come to a laughing in over a week. “You think Jamie is in love with me?”

“I saw the way he looked at you,” her mother muttered, returning to scrubbing the counter, having found a spot she was determined to get rid of.

“Mother, you’re ridiculous,” Veronica moved to set a hand over hers, before she completely rubbed the polish off the marble. “Seriously, Mom, it’s not like that – we’re friends. Trust me, I would know.”

Sharon stopped, taking a deep breath before meeting her daughter’s gaze. Her eyes were sad as she slowly shook her head, a look of pity crossing her face.

“Baby,” she cupped Veronica’s cheek in her hand. “You thought you had everything figured out with Jeremy – and look what happened.”

If Jamie’s laughter at the funeral felt like a slap, this was worse. Her own mother, her flesh and blood. The words sliced across her like daggers; she figured razors wouldn’t be needed to finish the job.

Only when Veronica’s feet hit the carpeted stairs was it apparent that they carried her out of the kitchen, away from her.
__

“How is she?” Seguin dropped into the stall next to Jamie, where he was busy stripping tape from his shin pads.

He blinked at his teammate, confused for a moment before understanding immediately who he was referring to – not some puck bunny, not his mother.

Veronica.

“Dunno,” Jamie mumbled, unlacing his skates. She hadn’t replied to his texts and a part of him wondered if that curse of a woman called her mother might have dumped Veronica’s phone in the river running through Dallas.

“Look, what happened at the funeral,” Tyler started, lowering his voice as he glanced at the other players around them. Jamie threw his hands up in exasperation.

“Look – I didn’t do anything to make her cry,” Jamie hissed, looking around the dressing room to make sure they weren’t drawing any unnecessary attention. After what the team had been through together, there’s wasn’t any need for a temper tantrum. “I couldn’t help it if she bolted to the bathroom.”

“Shh, Benny – that’s not what I meant,” he said softly, a hand on his captain’s shoulder. “I meant after – when you took her home.”

Jamie stared blankly at his teammate, awaiting yet another interrogation - if he’d be grilled yet again for the nothing that happened. If he’d be questioned about his feelings for Veronica for what felt like the millionth time, since meeting her nearly three years ago.

Jeremy had stopped him in the hall after a game – a win over Phoenix. The team had been pretty jacked, everyone piling out the door to a bar to celebrate. Jamie had even planned on having a few drinks – big for him back then.

“Jamie,” Jeremy’s voice bounced off the cinder block walls. The Stars player had turned, seeing Jeremy jog down the hall, followed closely by someone hidden in the shadows of the American Airlines Center.

“Hey man – what’s up?” the forward’s eyes had met his co-workers, before they both turned to the redhead walking towards them, the click of her boots reverberating along the concrete.

“I want you to meet my girlfriend, Veronica,” his hand slid around her back, their eyes meeting before her gaze turned to meet mine. “Vee, this is Jamie Benn.”

Jamie hadn’t heard the words - missed the introduction completely. It was like all the air had been sucked out of the room – an earthquake could have collapsed the ceiling, a tidal wave could have crashed the shores of Texas. He wouldn’t have noticed.

Ginger hair locks curled into waves, sparkling eyes warming with recognition - the dimple in her chin evident as the girl on Jeremy’s arm smiled. She wore a simple off-white sweater with jeans and knee-high boots; the color highlighting the creaminess of her skin, the contrast of her hair.

Luckily Jamie managed to close his hanging jaw before anyone took notice.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Veronica’s voice was warm, like melted butter on toast. Full of confidence like Jeremy was the lucky one to have her; he looked at her like he’d won the jackpot.

Jamie barely managed to slide his eyes away from the magnetic pull of her gaze as he glanced down at the hand she’d extended. His fingers slid against hers in a chaste handshake – the spark skittering across the length of his skin like an electric shock; the surprise almost buckling his knees.

His hand itched at the memory; Jamie flexed his fingers before turning back to Tyler.

“What about it?” Jamie couldn’t help that the tone in his voice – a combination of frustration from the insinuation of her mother when he brought Veronica home and the apathetic attitude he hoped his teammate wouldn’t see through.

“It was really nice, Jamie,” Tyler said softly, slapping his linemate on the back. “It’s good that you’re there for her - she needs a good friend right now.”

Friend. The word sounded like acid, like profanity or as if had someone’s spat in Jamie’s face.

Obviously, his subconscious berated him. As if he’d be anything but a friend to her – she’d just lost her fiancé, her partner, what he presumed to be the love of her life.

Her mother said it herself – she’s not moving on and definitely not with me, Jamie chastised himself.

Still, there was a part of him that hoped – for something, anything. A sliver that remembered the look in her eyes when he offered a key to his place, wondering if Veronica would use it, if she’d come to him when she needed to. Or needs someone.

Jamie pondered the possibility for a moment before standing to head into the showers.

Get over it, he told myself. Friends – that’s it. That’s all.
__

“Today’s the day,” her mother announced, walking into the den where Veronica’s stared blankly out the window at the creeping vines of ivy up the side of the house.

An open newspaper sat in front of her, any attempts to keep up with the city’s activities abandoned in favour of imagining a time when the world didn’t feel like it was folding in, like a collapsing structure.

Veronica turned, not registering the weight of the words – today would be the day when offing herself to end this pain wasn’t the first thought in her mind? Or the one when she’d wake from the nightmare of an entire week, only to find Jeremy hollering hello as he streamed through the front door?

“The wedding, Veronica,” she repeated herself when green eyes blinked back, shaking her head in confusion. “You need to cancel the bookings for July.”

July. It seemed so silly now – all of Veronica’s fussing over which color scheme would be best for the wedding at Jeremy’s family home in Wisconsin. All her stress over which shade of pink was best for the invitations – blush, rose, lavender.

What a waste.

She silently nodded, fingers thumbing over the newspaper from four days ago, open to the obituaries section – the one featuring Jeremy’s. It occurred to Veronica for some reason that she should clip the three hundred and fifty words attempting to sum up what kind of a person he was to her, his family, the team – his friends.

“Want me to help you?” her mother’s voice was softer. A part of Veronica cringed at how visible her weakness must be.

Is that what it looked like to Jamie when he caught me drinking at eleven in the morning? she wondered.

“No,” Veronica whispered, her voice quiet. “I – I need to do this.”

Sharon’s hand, so much like her daughter’, stroked the hair Veronica hadn’t bothered to brush upon rising morning. She tried to put on a strong face – your game face, Vee, Jeremy used to say – and looked her mother in the eye, determined that she could, she would do this on her own.

Only after Sharon had left to run errands did Veronica finally open the wedding notebook previously carried like her most prized possession. The book filled with sketches and jot notes, phone numbers and confirmation details.

Her fingers trembled as she dialed the first of what felt like a million numbers, each seeming to remind Veronica that this was real, that her life with Jeremy was over, that she was alone. Each ring increased the sense of panic coursing through her veins, making her dizzy.

“Men’s Wearhouse and Tux,” the young man’s voice came over the line. “Can you hold?”

“Yes,” Veronica’s voice croaked, taking a second too long to respond. The music on the other end of the line allowed a second to catch her breath, to prepare for the eventuality of offering Jeremy’s details - particulars he’d never need, a tux he’d never don.

Pick up the phone and talk like I'm crazy
Oh, there's something inside that stirs when I see you
I'll watch as every thread undoes itself
And when you come around
I'll nurse you back to pieces

The lyrics suddenly grabbed Veronica’s attention, drawing her into the moment. There was something about it that seemed to encapture her every emotion, the way her life seemed to be coming apart at the seams, the nightmares that’d been plaguing her fitful sleeps, even--

When you're on the down
I'll nurse you back to pieces

--Even her mother, out at the grocery store. Veronica hadn’t been the one to notice they were out of dish soap, running perilously low on toilet paper. Of all people, Sharon was the one who seemed to be nursing her back, or doing her best in the hour of need.

A tear slipped down Veronica’s cheek, at the loss of control, over everything - she brushed it away with the back of her hand.

“Hello?” a voice asked on the end of the line.

She sniffled. “Yeah.”

“Sorry about that,” a bright voice rambled on, apologizing for the wait, asking how he could help Veronica. A long pause stretched before her, the inevitability of the moment having arrived.

Deep breaths. “I, um – well my fiancé has a – or had a reservation….”

“What’s the name it’s under?” he could seem to sense her brain was incapable of forming functional sentences.

“Cameron – Jeremy Cameron,” the words were a whisper as they fell from her lips, like saying it any louder would make his absence even more legitimate.

She could hear him typing - for a second Veronica briefly wondered if he wouldn’t be able to find it, if she’d be spared of the impending pain.

Maybe they’ve lost it, maybe he never made this reservation, maybe all of this isn’t actually happening.

“Aha! Found it – July 12 in Green Bay, right?”

The words caught in her throat in a strangled cry, the tears immediately springing to Veronica’s eyes. She slammed the phone down in its receiver, the sound reverberating through the empty den. The overwhelming stillness made to feel as though she was suffocating.

The next moments happened on autopilot: swiping the keys from the dish at the front door, pulling the door shut behind her without bothering to lock it. It's a safe neighborhood – perfect for a family, Jeremy had convinced her when trying to sell Veronica on the idea of moving in.

Ten minutes away from the house, going ten miles over the speed limit, it was only then apparent where she was headed. The one place that didn’t make Veronica feel like the hole in her chest would swallow her whole.
__

One more day, Jamie repeated to himself, hours of set plays and video sessions making his head spin. One more day until the team headed to California, until they got the show on the road, what they’d been working towards all season.

Everything was as Jamie had left his darkened apartment: a closet with the rest of his jackets; a few dishes jumbled in the sink from the morning’s breakfast, television and entertainment set remotes piled up on the coffee table. He pulled off a backwards cap, raking fingers through freshly-washed hair - when he noticed it.

A sweater, pale blue, slung over a dining chair - definitely too small to fit his frame. Lifting it, Jamie immediately knew it belonged to Veronica - he recognized the perfume, the sweet mix of floral and something that reminded him of spring. Only then did he see the ballet flats errantly kicked off near the front door, her purse dumped haphazardly on the kitchen counter.

Light spilled over the bed as Jamie pushed open the door to the guest room, wanting to confirm that she was in fact in his home - that he wasn’t imagining things, not reading into it more than he should be.

But the room was empty. The comforter remained undisturbed; the pillows neatly arranged from her last stay. Perplexed, he checked the other bedroom – the one with a sofa bed his sister used when the whole family gathered for holidays. Everything was as it should be – leaving one last place she could have been.

She couldn’t….right?

Jamie was almost relieved to hear the low, even breaths as he padded softly across the carpet of his room, the twinkling lights of downtown creating shadows throughout the room. Nearing the bed, Veronica’s auburn hair fanned completely across the sheets, her face tucked into a pillow.

The sight made him a little dizzy – long, thick locks and her warm, soft skin spread out on the blankets like she was waiting for him. Jamie indulged in the moment, the sight of it, before he chastised himself - he shouldn’t stare.

But before he could make a move to leave, she stirred.

“Jamie?” Veronica’s voice cut through the silence, thick with sleep. Who knew how long he was watching her?

“Sorry,” he whispered, sitting down on the mattress – as far away possible from touching her. Bad enough she caught him. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

She moved to sit up, pushing a handful a handful of hair out of her face. Pulled tight around her chest from the twist of the sheets was one of the many Stars shirts kept stashed in his closet - it’s all Jamie could do to bite back a groan.

“No, I’m sorry,” she muttered, starting to pull back the covers. “Oh, my god - I thought you guys were flying out today, that you were already-”

“Veronica,” he interrupted, a hand on her shoulder.

She refused to meet his gaze, wrestling with the covers atop her small frame. “I shouldn’t be here,” she mumbled to herself.

Jamie realized - she was planning on leaving, on account of him, when it was the very thing he’d told her to do, to come when she needed to. He panicked.

“No, Vee – that’s why I gave you a key,” his hand on her shoulder stopped Veronica from moving any further. “I told you – come here whenever you want. Whenever you need, okay?”

It seemed to be the permission she needed - even in the dark of the bedroom Jamie could see her dark eyes glittering with tears. She bit her lower lip to keep back the tears - unsuccessfully, before a few fat ones track trailed down her cheeks.

Whether it was crossing the line or not, he didn’t care – Jamie couldn’t help his arms from sliding around Veronica, from pulling her towards him. For the second time in two days, Veronica had ended up in his arms, if only to provide her with a safe space to let go.

He wasn’t sure what it meant - if it meant anything at all - even as the sobs racked her small frame; as the tears soaked the material of his own shirt.

It could have been minutes – could have been hours; but Jamie held her as long as needed before Veronica’s tears subsided, before she pulled back to look at him with red-rimmed eyes. She nodded, pulling the covers over her legs.

She’s staying.

Jamie moved to stand – there was no need to uproot her from where she was hopefully sleeping peacefully. A night in the guestroom was a small price to pay for her peace, even at the expense of obsessing at the thought of Veronica in his bed, in one of his shirts, a few steps away.

Before he turned to head out of the room, fingers grabbed tight to Jamie’s, clutching his hand.

“Will you stay?” Veronica whispered, eyes blinking up at his, full of fear and uncertainty. His gaze fell on their joined hands, her fingers interlaced with his.

“I’m sorry, I just haven’t been able to sleep since…since…” she trailed off, lower lip trembling.

He squeezed Veronica’s hand, nodding his acceptance before dropping their grasp. Jamie drew in a long, unsteady breath before turning towards the closet, head dizzy at the thought of this girl, the one he’d longed for, for so long, next to him all night.

So close, yet so far, he couldn’t help but think.

Notes