“So that I can tell you that I think I’m ready, I’m ready to freefall into, into the unknown if you wanna be with me…”


Time began to fly by and each week, Marie saw herself getting bigger and bigger. At this point she found it easy to throw around the pregnant card, and realized more times than not, people gave her the benefit of the doubt. Professors were progressively growing more and more lenient with her as her belly enlarged, and although she tried not to take advantage of their kindness, it was getting harder to do so as Marco and the team reached playoffs.

After a bumpy road to get there, they all knew hard work was in order to get to the Cup. Facing the Blues in the first round was no easy feat and Marie watched as Marco split his time between St. Paul and St. Louis, coming home more and more battered and bruised after each game. And after beating them in six, she watched the bruises get bigger as the team battled the Blackhawks.

Currently, the team was on the verge of being swept by Chicago and despite being pretty angry about it, Marco was able to stay in control of his emotions. He never brought that frustration home, and since Marie wasn’t attending the out of state games, she was happy to know that she didn’t have to see that side of him.

“She’s okay. No I meant she’s fine, she’s well, she’s good,” Marco came through the front door, dropping his belongings on the floor, and then moseyed into the kitchen and sat at the table just as Marie was placing a bowl of chicken fettuccine alfredo in front of him. “Yes I’m sure,” he reached up to peck Marie’s lips before she turned back to the sink. “Ninety-seven percent… No we haven’t gotten to that point… yes I’ll let her know. Mum I have to eat now, so let me call you back, okay?” He nodded a few times before actually pulling his phone away from his ear and let out a long sigh.

Marie turned back to the table with a bowl of her own and an ice pack in her hands. She handed the ice to Marco and sat down across from him. “How’s she?”

“She thinks we should start thinking of names. But traditional Italian names like Valentina and Francesca.” Marco pulled off his shirt, exposing the bruise on the side of his body, and wrapped the ice around it. He began picking at his food before shoveling a forkful into his mouth.

“My mom’s fond of Samantha and Katherine,”

“I don’t want to name our kid any of those names. They’re great names, I just want a name that’s going to speak to me and none of those do.”

Marie bit into a piece of chicken, “are we bound to Italian names?”

“It’d make my family happy,”

“Well don’t you worry,” she started and sat back in the chair, resting her bowl on her belly. “I’ll make a list and we can see what we like. In the meantime I need you to start clearing out the game room. We have to start making a nursery out of it,”

She watched as Marco moved the ice on his side, wincing as it passed over a sore spot. It was hard to look at him in such pain, and knowing she couldn’t do anything about it, Marie looked down at her food and shuffled it around with her fork. For the remainder of the day, Marco would rest up before throwing on a suit and heading back to the rink for the fourth game of the series. And Marie would figure out some Italian names she could live with calling her daughter before dressing up to attend the game.

With Marco letting out soft groans each time he moved the ice and shifted an uncomfortable way, Marie figured it was best to leave out some information about what had happened in the past few days while he had been in Chicago. It could wait until tonight… or a week. But she knew he was focused on the game, and she didn’t want to be the reason his focus was shifted. After all, the Stanley Cup was on the line.

---

Marie was on her feet with her hands resting over her stomach. On her left, Alisha stood with her arm linked around Marie’s. And on her right, Becky stood clutching onto her other arm. All three women stood stunned, hoping that what they’d just seen wasn’t true. Being swept was just a thought that wasn’t bound to be plausible, but here they were, watching the Wild crowd their bench as the Blackhawks celebrated in the corner of the rink.

When they settled down, the teams approached each other to shake hands, and by the looks of the faces on the jumbo screen, the loss was devastating. Everyone up in the family suite knew what this meant, and Marie worried about how she would handle this for the first time.

The women filed out with sullen faces, going to meet their men. But instead joining them, Marie stayed put. She sat back down in her seat, rubbing her stomach in a steady rhythm and stared out at the ice. The maintenance crews were beginning their night of work, and although Marie knew she should leave to find Marco, she couldn’t bring herself to get up.

“Ready to go?”

With hands squeezing her shoulders, Marie looked up and saw Marco grinning at her to the best of his ability. She knew that behind the shallow grin was a shit ton of disappointment and grief.

“Sorry…” she whispered, taking one of his hands in hers.

“For what?”

“The game,”

“It’s not yours to be sorry about,” he sat down beside her and tucked his hands into his lap. “I’m sorry I couldn’t bring the cup home to you this year,”

Marie flicked her eyes up to his quickly and then looked down at her own lap. She didn’t think telling him the cup didn’t matter as much to her as he did was the right thing to say. “Viola…” she cleared her throat and squinted her eyes. “Um… Isabelle… Mia… Violet… Sofia…”

Marco wrapped his arm around her shoulders and danced his fingers along her skin. “We don’t have to make a decision now. My mum’s just neurotic.” He paused and kissed the side of her head, “I’ll start clearing out the game room tomorrow.”

“I leased the shop.”

He shot his head down to hers like a cannon, but Marie couldn’t tell what he thought of the news. He looked pretty confused, like he didn’t really know if it was true.

“There’s no time like the present, right? I figured I’m almost done with my degree, and by the time the baby’s here, I might not be motivated to do it at all. This way it can start undergoing renovation now, and I can have it up and running… What do you think?”

“I think we should head home,” he looked down at her again. If it hadn’t been for the smile on his face, she would’ve assumed he was angry.

He took her hand and whisked her out of the suite. She glanced up at him and squeezed his hand, “what do you think?”

“I’m happy for you, you know that. I think you should be moving towards having your own place. I’ll support you with whatever decision you make,”

Marie leaned her head down against his arm, “you don’t think it’s stupid? You think I can do it?”

“Of course you can do it. Did someone tell you it was a stupid decision?”

She shook her head, when in actuality, she should’ve been nodding it. Marco would assume her dad had been the one to shoot her down, but it had really been Jess. With news to spread, Marie called her up hoping for some form of validation. But all she got was a big lecture how she was going to basically be a single parent trying to start up a business in a competitive, niche market. It took everything in her to not hang up on Jess, and once the rant finished, Marie felt like taking back the first and last months’ rent.

Marco helped her into his car and then sat down beside her, putting it in gear before flying out of the parking structure. He kept glancing at her, hoping she’d open up a little bit more. But each time he looked at her, Marie was staring out the window.

“Did your dad say something to you?” He finally asked, breaking the silence.

Marie looked back at him and shook her head, “I just want to know I didn’t make the wrong decision.”

He returned his focus to the road, taking a deep breath in. “I like the name Sofia,”

She looked at him again and took his hand as he placed it in her lap, “I’m nervous… About everything. What if we’re not good parents? And then this baby just has shit parents with a dad who’s never home and a mom who wastes her time making Italian wedding cookies that never sell. And let’s not forget she’s going to have a grandfather that spends his time cutting into people. This kid has no chance,”

“I wouldn’t say that. I might be a shit parent but you’re going to be the best mom ever. I see the way you’re taking care of yourself during the pregnancy… you’re eating right and exercising, you don’t miss an appointment, you’re basically the poster girl for what to do while pregnant. Our daughter does have a chance, and I’d say she’s got a pretty good one.”

Marie curled a hand over her stomach and looked down as if she was actually looking at her child. “I hope she’s a fighter. And I hope she doesn’t take shit from anybody. I want her to kick ass and take names,”

“I’m sure she’ll get that from her mother.” Marco pulled up into his parking spot and slipped out of his car, walking arm and arm with Marie to his front door. “What are you gonna call the place?”

She shrugged and let out a nervous chuckle. The renting decision had been made rather brashly; she didn’t even know if she’d need permits or contracts to get renovations started.

“Could call it Marie’s,” he mentioned, tossing his car keys into the ceramic bowl by the front door. From there he began peeling off his suit, getting into a more relaxed state in his boxer briefs.

After another chuckle, Marie disappeared into the bedroom, coming out a few seconds later in an oversized t-shirt. “That’s a little conceited, don’t you think? What if I called it Marco’s?”

He turned his head towards her as she plopped down on the couch next to him. Slowly he placed his hand on top of her stomach, “doesn’t have the same ring to it.”

She set her head down on his shoulder and closed her eyes. Carrying around a human was more physically taxing than Marie could’ve ever imagined, and most of time all she wanted to do was curl up beside Marco. Just like this. She wanted to lie like that forever. And when their daughter arrived, she wanted to add her to the mix; sleeping alongside her parents as they fended off sleepiness with good dreams.

“Next year,”

He tilted his head down, resting his cheek on top of her head, waiting for her to continue. They were both pretty spent from the day, and didn’t have any extra energy to exert.

“Next year you’ll bring home the cup, and we’ll put our little girl in it and it’ll be the right time for you to win it. At least you lost to the team that’ll probably win it this year…”

“That doesn’t help,” he grinned and let out a soft chuckle.

She looked up at him and leaned up to peck his lips, while simultaneously resting her hands over his. Together, they felt the baby kick, and Marie curled over to lie in Marco’s lap. He watched her and brushed her hair away from her face, getting into a soothing rhythm of running his fingertips along her hip and round belly.

“Let’s elope,”

His voice came out as a whisper and Marie cocked her head to the side to shoot him a quick glance. She was debating whether or not she wanted him to clarify, but figured it was probably better for him to not repeat it.

“Why…? No. If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it right,”

“You think having a kid before marriage is doing it right?” He tapped her hip gently, “let’s just do it.”

“Marriage isn’t something you just do on a whim. Besides we live together… are having a kid… we’re basically married without the title,”

“Then let’s just get the title and use it as a tax write off.”

“You’re not gonna use me to get a tax break,” Marie smiled and pushed up from the couch. “You’re such a prick sometimes, you know that?” She leaned in and pecked his lips quickly. It was getting harder and harder to stay balanced, and Marie propped her hands on her lower back to support herself as the weight of their child began to bear down on her. “Make sure you lock up before coming to bed, doll-face.”

Notes

"Let Go" by Dave Lichens.

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