The Man Who Can't Be Moved

Seeing Max and Em together had hurt a hell of a lot worse than I ever imagined it would.

Up until that moment, it had been ‘out of sight, out of mind’; I’d been able to cope -for the most part successfully and maturely- with what they’d done to me because I hadn’t been forced to see them together. I hadn’t had to endure seeing them together at various Pens hosted charity events; I hadn’t had to play nice with them while at the annual bowling event and I hadn’t had to plaster a fake smile on my face at the teams’ Christmas party or at the black tie affairs that the club hosted for the Mario Lemieux Foundation. I don’t know if I would have been able to handle being in the same room with the two of them; if I would have kept my temper and sanity intact while witnessing them holding hands or seeing Max wrap his arm around her or give her a simple, innocent kiss on the cheek.

I hated -past tense- him with a burning fucking passion and I’d wanted nothing more than to make him suffer for what he’d done to me; the string of betrayal had been so intense that there’d been moments I’d envisioned drilling him from behind into the boards or breaking my stick over his head or across his face and then claiming it was an accident. I had wanted to fucking kill him that day in his kitchen; I’d been so enraged and so hurt when the realization that he was telling the truth about him and Em had set in that I’d come dangerously close to putting him through a wall. He’d always been a threat; he’d always been the proverbial thorn in my side, that pesky fucking sliver that you can’t get out of your finger no matter how much you poke and dig at it. A goddamn demon that needed to be exorcised; a seemingly dormant cancer that had slowly festered and grew and had turned into something life altering and ultimately fatal.

It could have been so fucking easy to get rid of him; I could have snapped my fingers and had the Penguins’ ownership convincing the General Manager to have Max either on the first bus to Wilkes-Barre or on a plane heading somewhere out west. I could have been a bitter sonofabitch; I had had every right in the world to play the Superstar card, every reason in the world to toss my former best friend to the curb like yesterday’s trash. I’d kept him around for purely selfish reasons; I’d convinced Mario to let him stay despite all of the tension and the stress that Max and Em’s betrayal was creating in the dressing room. Not so much because I think Max is an invaluable member of the team -let’s face it, ninety eight percent of the guys in the league are expendable and teams can easily fill their skates with someone just as good- but because Max was the only link that I still had to Emma-Leigh. He was the lone gateway to her; I could keep track of how she was doing in Montreal and how well she was battling her illness and getting back on her feet through the conversations I’d eavesdropped on in the locker room. I know enough French to follow the back and forth chatter between Max, Flower, Tanger and Dupers and I’d perfected the art of slowing my actions down to a snail’s pace without bringing attention onto myself when getting into my gear and undressing after a practice. I’d even slyly pretended to be listening to my iPod -head bobbing up and down to the music while concentrating on methodically taping my sticks- so I could listen to the rapid fire conversations going on across the room.

I’d even gotten into the habit of calling Em’s parents a couple times every week just to see if they knew anything about her that I hadn’t already found out. Admittedly, I’ve been a sneaky, obsessive motherfucker. I haven’t been able to let go; I haven’t been able to forgive and forget like everyone around me expects to do. At first I hadn’t even been able to be in the same room with Max without feeling sick to my stomach or wanting to beat the crap out of him; now I tolerate him at best and I find myself sometimes laughing around to the stupid ass jokes he tells and the way he speaks sloppy ‘Frenglish’ when he’s been drinking. I’ve also been waiting for him to slip; I’ve been keeping a close eye on him during road trips and when the team’s out together at the bars or at restaurants after games, silently hoping and praying that he’d have that one big fuck up that I could spread around on the internet and have someone anonymous report back to Em. Much to my disappointment, it’s never happened. Max has apparently shed his manwhore behaviour and has become a complete fucking boy scout; he barely gives even the hottest women a second look and he always turns down requests for his phone number and laughs in the puck sluts’ faces when they so as much even begin to proposition him. He always leaves the bars well before closing time and he’s always alone when he bids goodnight.

He’s been a perfect fucking angel much to my dismay. He’s been as pure as the goddamn driven snow since he’d hooked up with Em and my plan to be the one to comfort her and help pick up the pieces when he screwed her over as long been shot to shit. I refuse to believe that he’s a totally changed man; I can’t see him spending the rest of his life with the same person because I know how bored he gets easily and how he feels suffocated when he’s in a relationship. This is a man that switches women more than he changes his underwear and I can’t see him holding out much longer; he’s incapable of being monogamous and it’s only a matter of time before he realizes that he’d made a mistake.

While I’ve managed to somewhat go on with my life -I can’t see myself spending the rest of my life with someone like Carlisle and I’m certainly not as serious about her as she obviously is about me- there’s still a small part of me that would give anything to have Em back. I find it impossible to hate her; I’m incapable of putting even the smallest bit of blame on her for what went down. A lot of people would think that I’m crazy; tell me that I’m out of my fucking mind and that I should have the same amount of hate burning inside of me for her as I do with Max. I place the blame solely on his shoulders; I hold him responsible for fucking up things up for Em and I. He’d taken advantage of her when she was in a vulnerable situation; he’d known exactly how sick she was and had been fully aware that she wasn’t thinking or acting with a clear head and he’d gone ahead and capitalized on that and in turn had made me out to be villain. He’d single handily turned her against me; he’d lied and manipulated and twisted and contorted small mistakes on my part and had completely fucked her up mentally. I’m not perfect; I’d made extremely bad choices and I’d screwed up when I’d sent her back to Pittsburgh by herself. But that doesn’t excuse what Max did to me; it never gave him permission to ruin my life.

The disgust and the bitterness had returned with a vengeance the second I’d wandered upon the two of them having their little ‘moment. I’d gone five months without seeing Em and living in a state of constant denial regarding her and Max -especially when the news of their wedding had sent me reeling and turned me into an insufferable, miserable, drunk bastard for the remainder of my Christmas break- and then suddenly I was kicked in the fucking gut by the sight of them making out. All of that rage had immediately come rushing back and I’d wanted to punish Max all over again; I wanted to knock him the fuck out and reclaim what I feel is rightfully mine. Instead I’d popped off some smart ass remark, grabbed a hold of Carlisle and practically dragged her up Flower’s driveway and into the house.

For nearly half a year I’ve been in love with someone that quite clearly loves someone else; I’ve been struggling to accept what’s happened and I’ve been lying to myself and fooling every around me. Emma-Leigh still has the ability to take my breath away; she still makes my knees weak with the tiniest of smiles and the smallest of glances. I can see how healthy she is; she’s gained a considerable amount of weight and she’s got curves in all of the right places and her confidence is sky high and she looks beautiful with her hair cut and the chunky honey blond highlights that grace those shimmering chestnut tresses. And now here we are; face to face in the somewhat secluded back hallway of Flower’s house that holds little more than a small bathroom, a den, and the door that opens up to the basement stairs. It’s perfectly innocent yet seems so fucking wrong at the same time; it’s as if there’s so much that’s been left unsaid and so many feelings that still exist between us. And while this moment should be awkward and both of us should feel as uncomfortable as shit to be in such close proximity to each other, somehow it feels as if this moment was inevitable. As if whatever is about to happen or whatever is about to be said has been a long time coming. And neither of us says a word for what seems like an eternity; our breathing and the profanity and incessant trash talking that drifts up the stairs the only sounds in the hallway.

I wonder if she can hear my heart thundering in my chest. Or if she can see the sweat that beads on my forehead and drips from my temples and down the back of my neck.

********

“So what are you…?” I begin.

“I just thought that maybe we could…” Em says at the exact same time, and I can’t help but grin when she gives and embarrassed laugh and her eyes widen and her cheeks flush.

She’s had way too much to drink. It’s evident in her glossy eyes and in the way she’d slurred her words when she’d asked me if we could talk for a second and in the way she’d been unable to put one foot in front of the other and had promptly stumbled into me; sending me toppling backwards into the wall and her tiny body colliding heavily with mine, one arm circling her waist and my free hand unconsciously settling on her ass. For a brief moment it had been as if we were the only two people in the entire world; I could feel her heart hammering against my chest and I could see the glimmer in her eyes as she studied every inch of my face and then slowly dragged the tip of her tongue over her bottom lip. It had been enough to tell me that whatever we had isn’t quite over; there’s a small part of her that is questioning whether or not she made the right decision.

And just as quickly as our ‘moment’ had developed, it vanished the second Max’s loud and unruly voice had erupted in the basement. As if it had served to remind her of the choices she’d made and the line she was in danger of crossing.

“Go ahead…” she says. “Finish what you were going to say.”

“Ladies first,” I encourage, and then stretch my leg out to the side and use my heel to close the basement door.

“I was just going to say that…” she chews nervously on her bottom lip and then blows her bangs off of her sweaty forehead. “I just wanted to thank you for sticking up for me like you did. Against Erin. You didn’t have to. I’m a big girl you know; I can take care of myself.”

“Everyone needs someone to take care of them sometime,” I say, and twist off the cap on my beer and down nearly half in one swallow. I know that she‘s lying; I know that she didn‘t drag me off into the hallway because she wanted to express her gratitude for coming to her defence. But I‘m not going to force her to say anything or do anything she‘s not entirely comfortable with. I‘m not Max, after all. That‘s his M.O. “She’s an ignorant bitch,” I add, and place my heel against the wall. “She’s so fucking miserable she needs to drag everyone down to her level. One day Brooksie will get his head out of his ass and realize that she’s more than Wicked Stepmother than she is Cinderella.”

“Maybe he likes them mean,” Em reasons with a shrug. “Some guys are drawn to bitches. Usually it means they like to be totally submissive in the bedroom.”

“Still reading Cosmo, huh?” I tease. “Still getting all your little pearls of wisdom from it.”

“Pearls of wisdom, top ten lists regarding the best masturbation techniques, advice on how to give the best blow job a guy’s ever had…”

“I think it’s safe to say that you can stop reading that shit,” I boldly remark. “You’re pretty much an expert on that last one.”

Her entire face and the tips of her ears turn a vibrant shade of red.

“So what’s up, Em?” I ask, hurriedly changing the subject before she either hauls off and smacks me across the face or simply stomps away. “Why are we here? Why are we doing this? Why are we trying to pretend as if nothings changed between us? Why…?”

“We need to talk,” she replies. “You and me. We need to talk. About us. Well not about us exactly because there isn’t an us and will never be an us ‘cause that’s all water under the bridge and you can’t keep beating a dead horse and you can’t…”

“You want to talk about what went down,” I conclude. “Between us.”

She nods.

“Can’t it wait? I mean, this…” I jerk my head in the direction of the basement. “…this isn’t exactly the time or the place, you know? It’s kind of weird, don’t you think? Wanting to talk about what went wrong with us when your husband is right downstairs?” Fuck, I swear I just vomited a bit in my mouth at the mere mention of the word husband. “You don’t want him to get the wrong idea, do you? You don’t want Max going all bat shit fucking insane if he finds out we’re alone up here, right? You really want to put up with that shit? Have him go all crazy assed, protective Frenchman on you? ‘Cause he’s liable to rip off any guy’s head that so as much looks at you the wrong way.”

“He’s not that bad,” Em argues. “What the hell is wrong with you people? Why are you all making him out to be some kind of bastard? I know he’s got a wicked temper on him, but he’s not a fucking maniac. He doesn’t boss me around or smother me or make me feel like nothing more than a possession. He loves me. I’m his wife. And he doesn’t treat me like…”

“Like I treated you?” I finish, and she gives an exasperated sigh. “’Cause for a second there it seemed as if you were trying to convince me that he’s not exactly like you tried to say I was.”

“I don’t want to fight,” she sighs. “I don’t want to do this with you. I don’t want this to turn into a big old thing. I just want to talk to you, Sidney. That’s all I want. I just want us to sit down and talk and…”

“And this isn’t the right time for it,” I remain firm. “I want to talk just as much as you do, okay? I want to sit down and hash things out too. But this…fuck, Em…you’ve been gone for nearly six fucking months and you think you can just walk back in and take over? You think you can just snap your fingers and have me come running? You think you can just show up and do this to me?”

“Do what?” she inquires. “What am I doing to you? What…?”

“You know what the sad thing is?” I give a derisive snort. “The sad thing is that I’d still drop everything for you. I’d still try and stop the fucking world for you. I’d still try and give you the sun and the moon and the stars. And you wouldn’t even have to fucking ask.”

“I never asked you to give me anything,” she says. “I never asked you to…”

“I’m not doing this with you,” I tell her. “I’m not doing this with you here. This isn’t right. ‘Cause as much as I hate Max and as much as I blame him for what happened between us, I can’t do this. I can’t be up here with you. I can’t be thinking everything I’m thinking and I can’t be wanting you as much as I do with him right downstairs. And as much as I’d like to fucking punish him for what he did to me, I can’t do it. Because I know what it’s like to love someone and have them snatched away. I know how bad it fucking hurts. And he may be a first class bastard for what he did, but he loves you. There’s no denying that. You’re his entire world, Em. He’d die for you. And I can’t do that to him. I can’t destroy him like that. If you really want to talk…”

“Just talk,” she insists. “I don’t want anything else from you. I just want to talk to you. I just want you to hear me out. That’s it. I know I don’t deserve that. In the same way I didn’t deserve you sticking up for me against Erin. But I’m asking you to do this for me. I’m asking you to help me with this last step. I want to get better, Sidney. I want to be the type of person I know I can be. And you’re the only one that can help me do that. You’re the only one that can give me back that piece of myself that’s been missing for the past five months.”

I sigh heavily, then nod in understand and finish off the last of my beer. “When you’re sober, Emma-Leigh,” I promise. “When you’re completely stone cold sober and you’re fully aware of what you’re saying and what you’re doing, then we’ll talk. You know where to find me. The number’s still the same. You just call me and we’ll talk. You just give me a shout and I’ll drop everything. No questions asked, okay?”

She nods.

“But right now…” I reach out to brush her hair off of her forehead and then loop some of her tresses over her right ear. “Right now I can’t do this with you. I just can’t. Soon though. Very soon.”

“Okay..” she says in a voice barely over a whisper.

“I gotta get back down there,” I jerk my thumb over my shoulder. “Before someone sends a search party. It’s really good to see you, Emma-Leigh. You look…I don’t know…you look really healthy. And happy.”

“I am,” she says. “I am healthy. And happy.”

“That’s good,” I give a brave smile even though my heart feels as if it’s shattering into a million pieces at her admittance that she’s actually content. That it’s Max that’s made her this way. That he was the one who saved her. “And I’m sorry I couldn’t be the guy that did that for you,” I admit. “I’m sorry I couldn’t make you happy.”

“Sidney…don’t say that…” she pleads, as tears sparkle in her eyes. “…please don’t…”

I don’t give her a chance to finish. Instead I press a chaste kiss to her lips and then turn abruptly on my heel, throw open the basement door and hurry down the stairs. I need to get away. I need to escape everything I’m feeling and everything I’m thinking.

I need to save myself.