Your Hand In Mine

"It was the funniest thing I've ever seen- Oh! Looks like we have a high sticking call. Was that- Yes, Hartnell's the man going to the box for high sticking Matt Cooke in the face at seveteen forty-eight."

"Did you see that, Steiggy?! He purposely whacked Cooke in the face! That is not a good penalty by Hartnell, especially at the end of a period. This could really help the Pens out if they got a late goal. They'd be up three to nothing going into the second if they can cash in."

"You're right, Bobby. It could benefit us. The Penguins are one for two tonight on the Supercuts Power Play. Maybe they can make that two for three," Paul paused. "Sidney Crosby to take the face off to the left of Boucher, Malkin to his right, Bill Guerin on his left, and Sergei Gonchar and Kris Letang at the points. Boy, I'll tell ya, Kris Letang has really been working hard these past few weeks. It'd be nice to see him get a power play goal to show for it."

"He has been. He's one of the first guys on the ice at practice, and he'll usually stay after and work on his shot. He's really trying to elevate his game and bring it to another level. He brings a good physical aspect, too, Steiggy." As soon as Bob Errey had shut his face, I muted the TV. It was like 'Praise Kris Letang Night' on FSN, and I couldn't handle it.

I thought about not watching hockey all together--even games that didn't involve the Penguins, just because I didn't want to hear something being mentioned about him, or the boys. I knew that even if they said something about how well the Pens were doing or how much of a beast Sid was, it would result in me thinking of Kris. I just couldn't think about the boys and not think about Kris, it was inevitable. What makes him even harder to avoid was that I lived in the same city that they played in. Everywhere you went you were guaranteed to hear about their last game or who they were play next. And no, I was not about to move away because of Kris.

But then I realized that I shouldn't have to stop watching something that I love because of one person who just happened to take part in the very thing I loved. I wasn't going to forget about hockey. It was a part of me before Kris ever came along, and it would be a part of me long after Kris. He wasn't going to stand in my way and ruin it for me.

That was what I had originally thought, before I put on the game.

I turned to channel twenty-nine at exactly seven o'clock, which was around forty-five minutes ago, and didn't like what had appeared on my screen. Of all the people to interview before the game.. they picked him. They never pick him, so why now? It was like they knew I was heart broken and just wanted to make it worse. Fuck you, Dan Potash.

I couldn't really tell you what he asked Kris other than the basic hockey questions; I was too busy looking at his face, trying to sit there and act like just seeing him on TV wouldn't effect me at all. Too bad it did.

As much as I tried to stop it from happening, a tear still slid down my cheek. I wiped it away with my palm and tried to be strong.. I couldn't even look at him without crying.

Acting strong worked for the majority of the first period, until Steiggy and Bobby kept going on and on about Kris. As soon as the whistle blew, I jolted up and walked away from the couch and into my bathroom. I turned on the scorching water and shed my clothes then stepped in, letting the heat rush over me. This was pretty much routine for me for the past few days or so. This, and all the sad songs I had listened to over and over again. I called off work the last two days, I didn't show up for class, and I was lucky if I left my bed at all. It was pathetic, really. But I couldn't help it, it was my way of getting over things, as sad as that sounds.

I reluctantly got out of the shower and dried myself off, sparing two minutes before the game resumed. Other than Jeff Carter thinking it was okay to score on Flower, nothing else really happened. I didn't watch with the same intensity that I usually did. I just sort of sat their, my face blank and eyes only following the puck, not the players. It wasn't very enjoyable.

I was doing pretty good for the most part, even to the halfway point of the third period.

Ten sixteen. That was when they decided to follow Kris around with the camera for at least a minute. It went from him racing back to touch the puck on an icing call against Philly, to him flipping the puck to the ref, to him skating to the bench and sitting next to Brooks. Then they left the camera there for a good twenty seconds. I thanked God that I had kept the volume off. I didn't know what I would have done if I were hearing the words coming from Steiggy's and Bobby's mouth about Kris.

Volume or no volume, it didn't matter. I turned the TV off.

I thought that being able to watch a hockey game with my favorite team playing would never be difficult. Turns out, it was.. I was so angry at myself, so angry at him that I couldn't just move on from everything. He was the reason that I couldn't enjoy hockey anymore, and he was the reason for all the pain that I was feeling, yet I still thought about him all the time. No matter how much I wanted to hate him.. I just couldn't. And I didn't know why.

I eventually stopped staring at the all-black image on my TV sometime around eleven, long after the game had actually ended. I picked my weak body up from the couch and walked over to my fridge. I opened up the door and sighed as I closed my eyes and rested my head on it. Nothing in there, figures. After opening drawer after drawer and cupboard after cupboard, I eventually decided on something to eat--animal crackers. I took my time, eating each animal one by one, watching the numbers increase on the clock of my microwave, then tossed the empty bag into the garbage.

I moved my feet across the floor to my bedroom and took a look in the mirror. I did that a lot. And every time I did, my appearance just seemed to get worse. I guess, I looked at my reflection to see the mess I had become and how much I had desperately wanted to be myself again. It sort of encouraged me to stop wallowing in my own self pity.. If that makes any sense. I shut my eyes for a few moments after realizing that I was wearing the same clothes I had on the day before and my eyes were still a little bit red despite taking a shower, then I opened them back up and sighed.

I was sick and tired of seeing myself like that. I was sick and tired of feeling like that. And I was done feeling sorry for myself,done.

I ripped off my clothes and found a new pair of sweats and a new hoodie, and I rinsed my face with freezing cold water, hoping that it would take away the redness in my eyes. Then I went on a search and rescue mission for my iPod and found it tangled in my comforter. I switched from some sad, depressing song and found something completely opposite of that. I held down the Pause and Play button for five seconds, choosing to save the song for the next time I needed music. I wouldn't be as tempted to listen to something that would make me cry if I left one of my favorite songs on the screen. After aimlessly tossing my iPod on my bed, I pressed the numbers 'three' and 'zero' on the remote and was actually glad to find a hockey game on Versus--Sharks and Ducks.

From now on, I wasn't going to turn off another hockey game because of him. He wasn't going to keep me trapped in my own depressing and broken world; I was going to break free of him instead. I was going to go back to the way I was a little less than a week ago--happy and alive, minus the feeling of being loved and loving back. I didn't want to feel like I did right now ever again. But I knew it was going to take time to pick up the pieces of my shattered heart and stick a band aid on it. I didn't want to turn to anyone for help, either--not Lex, or Josh, nobody; I wanted to make myself happy on my own. Of course, I knew that being around the people that make me smile would help me get back to the way I was, but I wasn't going to flat out tell them that I wasn't happy and wanted them to do whatever it took to cheer me up. I didn't think that it was fair to make everyone drop what they were doing to help me. That was selfish.

I was busy watching the people on Versus interview Dan Boyle when I heard my phone ring.

I immediately let out a sigh when the first person I thought of was Kris. I picked up my phone from the table next to my bed and looked to see who was calling--Josh has a man-gina. At first, I was a little disappointed.. But then I figured that it was probably best Kris' name didn't pop up on the screen.

"Hola, Paco's Tacos. How may help you?"

"You sound.. fine?" Josh replied, confusion evident in his voice and clearly not finding my stupid, little joke funny.

"What do you mean?" I asked carefully.

"Alexa called me," he said. "She said that she hasn't heard from you in days. What the fuck happened, Shane?" I let out a sigh but didn't say anything. "Shane," he said, getting more pissed as the seconds passed. "Answer me."

"Kris cheated on me, and now I'm-"

"HE WHAT!?"

"Do you not understand what 'cheating' means? He had sex with someone on their last road trip."

"Are you kidding me?" he questioned.

"No."

He sighed. "Are you sure he did it?"

"Josh, I don't really want to talk about it. I was just starting to take one step forward, but now you're just bringing me back two."

"Are. You Sure."

"What do you mean am I sure? There was a fucking tally on the paper next to his name! What more do you want?!" I yelled angrily at my brother because he just wouldn't let this go as a tear threatened to escape.

"I can't believe it."

"Yeah? Join the fucking club," I told him.

"I really can't believe he did this you. He didn't give me that bad vibe when he came to my birthday party with you. Actually, his eyes never really left you the wh-"

"Shut the fuck up!"

"Sorry," he said, and I could practically see the frown sitting on his face.

"It's okay," I sighed as I ran a hand through my hair. "How's Florida been? Got an awesome farmer's tan yet?" I asked, purposely changing the subject.

"Florida's fine, and I have a bit of a farmer's tan. But this phone call is not about me, it's about you, Shane. Stop trying to change the subject because it's not going to work. I'm older than you, you'll never win."

"What do you want me to tell you, then?" I asked him in an exasperated tone, growing even more irritated.

"Just tell me that you're alright, that you will be okay."

"Then I'd be lying." He was silent. "I'm not saying that I'm suicidal or anything, or that I'm on the verge of going into a deep, dark depression..," I drifted, "I'm just, heartbroken and.. sort of lost. But I'm sick of feeling like this, feeling like absolute shit. I'll do whatever it takes to enjoy life again."

He went into protective-older-brother-mode for a little while longer, asking me if he needed to beat the shit out of Kris or watch a corny chick flick with me even though he was stuck in Tampa. I told him that I'd be fine, and it was just going to take me some time. He really believed that I would get over the hurdle that was thrown into my life, and I hoped that one day.. one day I could show him that I did make it out okay.

I guess they say time heals everything for a reason, right?