I Need You Now

The loud roar of cheers that were screaming through the speakers of the large television hanging on the wall in front of me were silenced as my thumb pressed down on the small button that had the word ‘mute’ printed under it. As the sudden silence swept through the apartment, the remote that was once securely in my grasp fell from my hand and clattered against the cherry hardwood floor. My now empty right hand fell into my lap joining my left hand and soon, they were clasped together, nails digging into the back of the opposite hand, as a diversion from the strong urge to cry burning up my nose and throat. Although the pressure was painful, the all too familiar burning sensation started.

“Get a hold of yourself, Brianne”; screaming at myself my body shot up so I was now perpendicular with the hardwood floors beneath me. After what felt like a few minutes of studying the floors, my eyes wandered to the television just in time to catch a close up of just how devastating this loss was. He was just kneeling there, all equipment on, head tilted up looking at the scoreboard, looking right at the number of goals the home team had, two, compared to the one away team goal. As the home team, the Philadelphia Flyers cheered in center ice for their accomplishment of a playoff berth, the away team stood on the ice, idly staring down at their skates that had let them down.

As the camera panned back to the goaltender, his head now hung down staring at the ice, my heart sunk and the weak knees he always gave me came back causing my body to collided with the couch. Once there, my hands placed themselves over my face. Fingers pressing into my eye sockets trying to suppress my urge to cry, I took a couple of deep breaths trying to reason with myself to not cry, but after a few minutes of thinking, no reasons came to mind.

Henrik Lundqvist was my ex- there were supposed to be no feelings left between us so his team losing should have no effect on me. Should; and yet a huge chunk of my heart had still broken off and sunk down to the pit of my stomach. Why; because after three years with him, hanging around the guys on the team, seeing how much the team means to him and how hard he tries to give the team all the chances to win he can provide, losing like this just seems so unfair.

Eventually the celebrating Flyers on my television screen had struck a nerve in me and in one swift movement, I proceeded to shut the television off, throw the remote against the wall, and turn so my back was facing my vacant living room.

I needed to clear my mind; I needed to stop caring about him. It was over, he didn’t love me anymore, we went through this, almost hundreds of times through phone calls and text messages, and after all of those conversations we came to the conclusion we didn’t love each other anymore. We were done, detached, over, finished.

The reverberating thought that Henrik and I were over started a painful pulsating through my skull that my ice cold hands pressing against my forehead couldn’t cool down. So instead my body managed to stand up and navigate through the apartment until I reached the kitchen. Instead of going to the bathroom, taking a few Advil and going to take a nap my mind had other plans.

Leaning against the counter so my hips were being dug into by the edge of the marble countertops, I reached up and grabbed a small glass out of the top shelf of the cabinet. Shutting the door, I quickly took a step back from the counter and moved over to the fridge. Kneeling down I stuck my hand between the fridge and the wall and pulled out a bottle of vodka I hid just in case an emergency. Having Henrik on my brain for the second straight day in a row was definitely considered an emergency..

Bringing it back to the counter, I opened the bottle and poured the clear liquid in until it reached the halfway mark of the glass. Cap back on, I turned my back to the bottle, grabbed my glass and headed off to my bedroom. Step by step I watched as the clear intoxicating liquid swished around in the glass. When I reached the door to my room, I paused took a long sip of the liquid, swallowed it painfully and then turned the doorknob and walked into my cold room.

My normally warm chocolate brown sheets rested against my bed, straightened out over all of the corners. Instead of looking warm and comfortable, they looked foreign and cold so instead of curling up in them and finishing my glass of vodka, my mind hatched another idea.

Placing the glass on the carpet, I got onto all fours and crawled over to the side of my bed. Lifting up the sheets, I bent down until my shoulder was pressed against the carpet and extended my arm all the way underneath the bed. Moving it around, I came across a few dust bunnies and then my hand fell upon the small plastic box. Pulling it out, I brushed some dust off of it, then crawled back over to my glass of vodka and took another long sip.

Peeling the plastic cover off my lungs filled up with air and my eyes shut. This box has been under my bed for the last three months, and I told myself the only time I would ever open this, is when I felt I was finally over him which was not the case today.

Eyes open, my fingers picked up the pile of pictures and held them up to my face. Slowly, I sorted through the pictures. One after the other, my stomach grew sick with the memories captured on each piece of paper. The smiles, the love sick look in our eyes, the way he was holding me, the way we looked at each other, it all brought back the burning sensation that I prayed I would never have to deal with over him again. But with this glass of vodka, the completely devastated look on his face from losing ingrained behind my eyelids, and the yearning for his touch against my skin, I couldn’t help but shed a few tears. After all we said, everything we’ve done to each other, all of the times that we officially ended our relationship, I just couldn’t help but to have feelings left for him.

My hand swiped across my cheeks as a few pictures left my hands and danced across the floor until they stopped against the carpet. Picture after picture I watched as it just flew out of my hands. “What am I doing?” I scolded myself as my hands momentarily gained a mind of their own and pushed out, throwing the rest of the pictures into the air with as much force as they could muster. Once most of them landed against something, I pushed myself up, grabbed my glass of vodka and walked over to my bathroom, each step a test to see just how much more vodka I needed.

“What is wrong with you?” the glass slammed against the sink counter sending some of the liquid over the edge onto the porcelain sink. Hands gripping either side of the mirror hanging on the wall, my eyes peered into the glass, studying my reflection. “It’s over. You don’t mean anything to him. You think he’s wishing you were there with him now? No! So stop it!” I screamed at myself and angrily pressed my hands into the edges of the mirror, trying to stop the tears.

Nothing worked. My eyes were now puffy and pink. The eyeliner that had been nicely drawn around each eye was slowly starting to drip down my face as the tears continued to fall. “I’m pathetic”, I whispered and quickly looked around the bathroom. Everything was calm, the tiles under my feet were cold, but still something inside of me had me burning up. Beads of sweat accumulated at my hairline and started to drip down my face along with the tears, and no matter how hard I tried, my heart rate would not go down.

As thoughts ran through my mind, one stayed and made its presence known by repeating itself over and over in my head. ’Just call him’ It was so simple and yet at the same time so deadly. In the three years we spent together, the one and a half I spent living in his apartment, I’ve come to realize after a big loss, he’s not the most social, even tempered person and to try to talk to him, especially with our past, it was going to be a complete disaster, but for some reason, I felt like I needed to call him. It may have been the vodka, but within seconds I was searching through piles of clothes for my cell phone.

After my purse was dumped out onto my bed and sorted through, I went through every pair of jeans in my laundry basket, when my cell phone didn’t turn up, a wave of panic crashed over me. My cell phone also doubled as my organizer, alarm clock, and house phone, so its absence was a little scarier than that of a normal cell phone.

Someone must have heard my silent pleas because as my head started to spin from the quick movements of frantically trying to find my phone, the low hum of my ringtone sounded from another room in the apartment. Up on both feet, I started slowly walking through the rooms, holding my breath to try to listen as closely as possible. Room after room the volume of the buzzing grew louder and as my bare feet hit the cold hardwood floors, the buzzing ended.

With a heavy sigh, my feet slowly walked over to the couch where I was sitting on edge through most of the game. Glancing up at the dark flat screen TV, I turned to the couch to see a light shinning from in between the middle and far left cushion. Smile lighting up on my face, I reached down and pulled out my blackberry, the screen lit up and informing me that I had one missed call.

Clicking a few buttons, my eyes landed on the missed call I had. With a heavy sigh I clicked the end button and placed the phone screen down next to me. It was from Aaron Voros. Him and I became pretty close throughout the last two seasons. I was almost one hundred percent sure he was my long lost brother and throughout the whole breakup I had with Henrik, he was there for both of us through the whole thing, trying to make us see that breaking up was a bad idea.

Another loud ring came from my phone, but instead of it continuing it silenced after one. When I picked the phone up again, I had one new text message, but instead of reading it, I quickly clicked to my contacts and once I was there, I scrolled down to the one name I swore I wouldn’t call again.

Clicking send twice, I put the phone next to my ear and waited impatiently as ring after ring filled my head, knocking all of the thoughts about hanging up out of my head. I may have been a little drunk, but the only thing I wanted to do was hear his voice, I wanted to make sure he was alright, because even though the breakup was mostly my fault, I still care about him. There would always be a piece of my heart for that boy, no matter how hard I tried to fight against it.

The ringing eventually stopped. Instead of hearing his musical voice tell someone to leave a voicemail, it was the automated voice repeating his cell phone number to me. With a heavy sigh, I got up and started back to my room. Halfway there, the loud ring sounded informing me that it was my turn to speak.

I hesitated for a minute, trying to think of the right things to say. And once I found my glass of vodka, I took a quick sip and sat down against the wall, my eyes looking at all of the pictures strewn around my floor. “Hey Henrik, its Brianne”, I let out a heavy sigh; “I just wanted to call you to make sure you were alright. I saw the… I… I’m sorry about everything that happened.” My heart sunk down to the pit of my stomach again. “I really don’t know why I decided to call you today, but I just couldn’t stop thinking about you. Even before I saw the game, you were just on my mind today. And I was thinking about everything, thinking about everything that happened when we broke up, and I… I just want to apologize, for everything. You didn’t deserve everything I put you through.” Tears started pouring from my eyes again, and as they slid down my face, I found it harder to speak. “I told you that I would never call you again, but I just had too. I need you Henrik, I really do.” Something in me pushed me and before I could blurt out another word, I pressed the end button and placed the phone down next to me on the carpeted floor. Taking my glass, I finished the last huge gulp of liquid in my glass. Once the liquid slipped down my throat, I shut my eyes and let the rest of the tears I had been trying to stop fall from my eyes.

For three months I had managed to appear fine to everyone. For three months I managed to show everyone that Henrik Lundqvist was not the best man I had ever dated and that the end of our relationship did not kill me, but now, half drunk sitting in my room with every picture I had of him and I together scattered around my floor, I let my true colors bleed out. The end of that relationship hurt me more than one could ever imagine. The last words I spoke to him were false, I did need him.

The apartment door swung open and slammed shut quickly. As the loud thud of his suitcase hitting the floor echoed through the living room, my body turned from the TV and our eyes connected. The icy blue eyes that were peering deep past my emotionless cover were huge and questioning as they trickled from my eyes and noticed my crossed arms, sweatshirt, and sneakers.

“Hey Bri, what’s wrong?” His fingertips graced against my cheek as the space between us was minimized to a few inches. My eyes could not find the strength to move to his and instead kept a steady gaze at my sneakers. With a deep breath I listened as he echoed my full name and took a step back, trying to regain the stare we shared when he walked in.

My silence was broken as I turned my back to him and ran a shaky hand through my hair. “Shannon was calling for you”, I snapped viciously, venom seeping out of the words that just rolled from my tongue. “She was wondering when you were going to go out again”, my words were emotionless and cold and as they sliced through the air, I felt the tears push behind my eyes. I thought he was perfect, I honestly thought he was the one.

He sighed heavily and walked over to me but as soon as his fingertips touched the fabric of my shirt, I tore away from him. When I spun around and our eyes connected he grabbed my shoulders and lowered his head down a little so out eyes were aligned perfectly. “She’s a friend”, with one good push he stumbled away from me and caught himself on the arm of the couch. “I’m being serious Brianne, we’re friends and that’s it.”

“And I am supposed to believe that!” I screamed at him, the tears soaking back into my head stopping the pressure against my eyes. “I am supposed to believe that some girl calling asking when you’re going out with her again is just a friend.”

He turned his back to me and threw his hands in the air, “Well what about Joey”, I paused, staring into his cold icy blue eyes, “Why do you and Joey always go out huh, should I be worried about you and him?”

“I told you about him, you’ve even met him before!” I retorted defensively.

For a few minutes we stayed completely silent. Our eyes wandered around the room, landing on every piece of furniture and every other little thing besides the person we were standing across from, but after the silence had eaten away at us long enough, our eyes connected and a new fire lit in his eyes.

“After three years you don’t trust me?”His words weren’t hurt, they were angry and venom was laced in between every letter that came from his mouth. “What do you think I do when I’m on the road, go get drunk and hang around other girls, do you think I would ever do that to you, Brianne?” He was practically screaming now.

My teeth grinded together as I spoke, “I don’t know”, it was the only thing I could think to say. All of the other words seemed to erase themselves from my mind at that point. I didn’t want to believe that he would cheat on me, but he was a guy, and no matter how perfect he was, everyone has a flaw, what if he had a flaw, what if he did one day cheat on me. What if he didn’t intend on it but it just… happened?

“No”, his eyes looked more hurt than anything as the rest of the words fell from my lips, “I don’t trust you. What if just one day it happens, huh? What if one day you just drink a little too much and it happens? What the fuck am I supposed to do then?”

“Brianne, I understand you had some trouble in your past boyfriends, but I’m not-“

“I just don’t want to get hurt again”

“I’m not going to hurt you, Brianne!”

“Well how do you know? How do you know that in the future you’re not going to-“

“I’m not dealing with this every time I come home from a road game, Brianne! It’s either you trust me or you don’t. If you don’t trust me than… than I guess I was wrong” His eyes met mine, awaiting an answer.

I cleared my throat and turned to him, “What do you mean you were wrong?” I asked angrily, the fire in his eyes spreading to mine.

“I was wrong to think that you were actually a good girlfriend, someone who understood I was going to be gone a lot and trusted me, I mean after every long road trip every season we always fight about the same thing and I’m tired of it. Do you trust me or not Brianne? Because I really don’t need this”

“No.” I blurted out and although it was the wrong answer, deep down, it was the truth.

His icy blue eyes turned a stone gray and after a few minutes he looked at me in pure disappointment and shook his head. “Fine, good, I don’t need this. I have enough stress as it is. I don’t need this goddamned relationship, and I don’t need you” As his last words sliced through me I looked up at him and clenched my fists out of pure frustration and anger.

“Well good. I’m glad to know I wasted three years of my life with you. You know what, I don’t need this shitty, one sided, relationship either!” I slammed my fist into the wall, leaving a small dent. “You’re a shitty boyfriend and you know what, I don’t need you either”, anger pulsing through my veins, I turned on my heels and without grabbing anything walked straight out of the apartment putting a silent end to the relationship.

Henrik

The huge duffle bag slid off of my shoulder and fell against the carpeted floors with a muffled thud. All of the lights in the apartment were shut off, the air was vacant and stale, and the pieces of furniture looked fake and stiff. With a heavy sigh, I pressed the palm of my hands into my eyes and moved them back and forth, wishing that when I opened my eyes again the lights would be on, the low hum of the TV in the bedroom would fill the rooms, and Brianne would be standing there, her huge brown eyes peering into mine drowning in pure concern. She caught on quickly that loses like this took a toll on me, and after the worst loss of all, she wasn’t here when I needed her most, and it was my entire fault.

Feet dragging along the floor, I found myself walking toward the kitchen. Arms hanging at my sides, I pressed my shoulder into the doorway that lead into the kitchen and swung my right arm onto the wall next to me, flipping the light on with as little effort as possible. Every muscle in my body was worn out, every thought in my head now seemed to revolve around Brianne, and the blood running through my veins turned ice cold because of this.

I was the stupid one. Breaking up with her was the stupidest thing I had ever done, and in my twenty-eight years, I had managed to go beyond stupid, but this, it topped all of them. Not only was she beautiful, but she was all around perfect, even the small little flaws she had seemed to be perfect to me. When her eyes used to lock onto mine, I would only think about her, and when she touched me, the only thing I could do was hold her, making sure that she was as close to me as possible. To me, she was the most toxic thing on the face of the planet, the only thing that could bring me true happiness, and because of something as stupid as going out with a few girls and the guys, she hated me.

As the memory of the night we broke up flooded my mind, my body dragged itself over to the counter where a small bottle of hard liquor was sitting with a small glass right next to it, like I had subconsciously planned losing this game and had my night all set up. Luckily I could kill two birds with one stone, as I drank tonight, not only could I ease the pain of the abrupt end to our season, but also the annoying thoughts of Brianne that started ever since I took my first steps into the hallway after I pulled my sorry ass out of the goalie crease and off of the ice all together.

During the speeches in the locker room after the game, all of the words that were suppose to make me feel better, all I could think about was going back home to my empty apartment. All I could think about was Brianne not even thinking about me, probably with some other guy that’s actually around for her, and not caring about how I felt; not even knowing the score of the game.

My head started to pound, but instead of grabbing some Tylenol, I pulled the bottle off of the counter and headed over to the living room. Once inside of the dark room, my body collapsed on the reclining chair that faced the front door to my apartment. As I loosened my tie and peeled off my sports jacket, I pulled the collar of my shirt, opening the first few buttons and ran a shaky hand through my hair. With one swift turn, the cap of the bottle came off and fell to the floor. The strong smell of the gold tinted liquid filled my nose and without any hesitation, the opening of the bottle met my mouth and I tilted it back until my mouth was filled with the liquid. Swallowing it, I winced as it burnt its way down my throat, but once the pain was over, I did it again.

Halfway through the bottle, my body molded into the chair and my eyes zeroed in on the front door. All of the locks were open, the chain hung parallel to the crack between the door and frame, and every time I blinked, as my eyes reopened, I would give myself the small hope that Brianne would just barge right into the room, a smile on her face just like she always looked like when she walked into the apartment.

But every blink was a letdown, and I soon found myself drinking more in self loathing. The only time I stopped was when I heard a small buzzing sound coming from the pocket of my pants. Placing the almost empty bottle on the floor, I shifted my weight to the left and plunged my right hand into my pocket. Bringing my phone out and up to my face, I blinked a few times and then narrowed my eyes. When my vision was clear I sighed heavily and read the screen. ‘2 Missed Call(s)’.

Teeth pulling in my bottom lip, I pressed the ‘OK’ button and watched as the screen flashed to the list of missed calls. The first was from teammate Sean Avery, probably inviting me out to a night on the town, and the next was a number I thought I would never see come up in my phone again. ‘Brianne’, the time was next to it, but the letters were so small that my now drunk vision would not allow my eyes to make the number out.

With a heavy sigh, I pressed the end button and held the phone out in my hand, thinking it over and over and eventually ruling that the call was just a mistake. Just about to drop the phone to the floor, a steady, single, loud, beep echoed from my phone. Eyebrows raised, my hand turned the screen toward me. ‘1 New Voicemail(s)’. Head bobbing on my shoulders, I quickly entered in my password for the voicemail retrieval and placed the phone to my ear. Grabbing the bottle, I tilted it all the way back letting the last descent sip flow into my mouth. After another painful swallow, a soft female voice filled my head.

“Hey Henrik, its Brianne”, her voice sent shivers up and down my spine. The way she said my name, how soft and sad her voice sounded made my stomach tie itself into tight knots. Eyes now shut; I let the rest of the message play. Her voice filled my head, the strain in it making my heart break, and at the end, when tears were evident through her last words, a burning sensation started in my throat and with all of the emotions from today weighing down on my shoulders, I clicked the end button on my phone, set it down next to the empty bottle, and covered my eyes, ashamed of the small salty beads that had started to roll down my cheeks.

As my body heaved up more and more tears, her frail voice echoed in my head; ”I need you Henrik, I really do”.

After most of the tears had subsided, my hands pressed against my face and rubbed my cheeks dry of the damp spots on my skin. Sucking in a deep breath, I stood up, a little off balance and grabbed my phone. As my feet started heading for the door, I didn’t even bother to turn around for my keys or jacket, instead, I clicked through a few things on my phone and stumbled out of the front door and down the hall.

When I reached the elevator, my thumbs had finally found Brianne’s number and just as I clicked the ‘send’ button, a box appeared on my screen informing me that I was low on battery. About to turn back to charge it, the elevator doors slid open and instead I walked into the huge metal box and leaned against the back wall. As the doors slid shut in front of me, I steadied my hand and pressed the button to take me to the bottom floor. Once the elevator started moving, I listened in as the ringing started. Ring after Ring, my nerves started to get weak, and as it reached the sixth ring, I was about to scream. The words I have been dying to say since we broke up were on the tip of my tongue and in the state I had no trust in my memory.

Finally, the ringing stopped and the automated voicemail message came up. After it robotically repeated her number, the beep sounded and my mouth opened. “Brianne, it’s me. I had to call you, I was thinking too and I-“ a finally beep rang through the square metal box. It hadn’t reached the bottom floor, instead the beep came from my phone, and as I pulled it away from my ear, I caught the animation it showed just before it shut down. Pressing the phone against my forehead, I shut my eyes and waited for the doors to open and let me out on the bottom floor.

Brianne

Tears had yet to stop falling from my eyes. Now instead of lying on the floor, empty glass sitting next to me radiating the stale smell of alcohol, I was sprawled out in my bed, head hanging over the edge inspecting all of the pictures that were now spots on my floor. As my eyes drifted from picture to picture, small memories would float into my head, and after everyone more tears would push themselves out of the corners of my eyes.

Finally, my eyes fell onto my blackberry, screen down on the floor. A small part of me tried to talk my body into getting up and looking at it, but the aching muscles and knots in my stomach thought otherwise. Who would be calling me now anyway? It was a little passed one in the morning; every player on the New York Rangers was out partying, drinking the night away with a bunch of beautiful women in a club. None of them would be thinking about me.

Rolling over so my eyes were connected with the ceiling, I shut my eyes and let the rough sound of my heart beat fill my head. Beat after beat I felt my head start to regain the headache I had temporarily shooed away with the alcohol. Now that I was a half hour sober, it was starting to come back. Keeping my eyes shut, I listened as the pound in my head turned into audible noise. The pounding stopped for a moment and then came back quicker. Opening my eyes, I connected the pounding not to my headache, but to an invisible force outside of my front door.

Curious, my body lifted itself from the bed and as I swung my feet over the edge of the bed, I looked down to make sure my feet did not land on any pictures. Applying all of my weight on my feet, I stumbled through the first few steps, but by the time I reached the doorway, my steps were small and balanced. Through the hallway and into the living room, I kept the same small steps. As I got closer to the door, my heartbeat started to rise. Who could possibly be outside of my front door so early in the morning? And who would even think to come without calling first?

The pounding stopped and so did my steps. Sickness was starting to consume my body, and as it ran from my stomach up my throat and mixed with my headache, I cursed myself for drinking so much. Blinking a few times to try to steady my vision, the pounding against the door started again. Forgetting how to take the small balanced steps, my feet unsteadily slapped against the hardwood floors until I reached the door.

Something deep inside of me stopped my vocal chords from producing a question as to who was on the other side of the piece of wood, and instead, my hand twisted the doorknob and swung open the door quickly revealing the person on the other side. When my eyes reached his face, I gasped and my right hand quickly flew up to my mouth and clasped against it.

The icy blue eyes I had fallen in love with four years ago were staring back at me, covered in a sheet of water containing regret and sadness. The whites of his eyes were tinted pink, and his perfect clear skin had shimmering spots on his cheeks, where many tears had been stopped in their path to his chin. His normally perfect hair was messed up and hanging in his face. His right hand held his phone, screen dark, and his outfit consisted of a loosened tie and slightly unbuttoned shirt that was partially untucked from his dress pants.

After my mind registered that Henrik was standing in my doorway with tear stained cheeks, looking like a complete wreck, my eyes quickly managed to produce more tears and right at that moment, a small sob escaped my lips and as he took a step into the apartment and shut the door behind him, my body crashed into his, my arms wrapping around his torso. As my hands grabbed onto his shirt, his strong arms pulled me into him, and he pressed his face into my hair, taking a deep breath.

“I’m so sorry, Henrik. About everything I-“

“I got your message”, a small sniffle followed his words. A few minutes passed by of us holding each other before I pulled myself out of the warmth of his arms. My mouth opened to speak, but Henrik’s fingers reached my lips before I could produce any kind of sound. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you. That night, I couldn’t stop thinking about. Brianne, I’m so sorry for everything I said that night”, his bottom lip quivered causing a whole new round of tears to pour from my eyes. “I lied, it took me three months to realize it, but I lied to you”, taking a deep breath I looked up into his eyes, taking my bottom lip in between my teeth, scared of what he was about to say.

“Brianne, I need it back. I need our relationship back, but most of all, I need you”, my body fell into his again, the tears that have been flowing from my eyes finally stopping. As his warm arms pulled me into him more, I wrapped my arms around him and found his lips with mine. After a short kiss, he buried his face into my hair and squeezed me into him tighter, like if he let me go, I would fall away from him forever. With a deep breath I shut my eyes and pressed my lips against the skin of his neck.

“I need you too”, after a moment, his grip loosened as he realized that if he let me go, I wouldn’t move an inch.