The Man Who Can't Be Moved

It’s the first time since Emma-Leigh chose me over Sid that there hasn’t been a suffocating, nearly unbearable tension enveloping us. His ego had not only been dealt a humongous blow -the self proclaimed love of his had dumped him for a guy that was ‘less worthy’ and nothing more than a peon compared to his superstar, golden boy status- but the sting of betrayal and the ache of the loss had been two fold; he’d not only had Em slip away, but he’d been robbed of the chance of becoming a father as well. I’ve never begrudged him those feelings; I know for a fact that it would most likely destroy me if I ever lost a child and that I’d cease to exist without Em in my life and I’d never once expected Sid to not grieve and have moments of extreme anger and bitterness.

I’d done a shit thing; I’d kicked the guy while he was already down instead of handling things in a better fashion. I have give him credit where credit is duel he’s never once said anything degrading about Emma-Leigh (other than him wagging his big drunk mouth during our fight a week ago at Flower’s) even though he’d had every right in the world to talk shit about her. And while he’d placed all of the blame squarely on my shoulders -I’d willingly accepted it in order to protect her and keep her out of the shit storm while she battled her demons thousands of miles away-, he’d also directed all of that rage internally and had declared war on me by giving me the cold shoulder and making life in the dressing room extremely uncomfortable. His failure to at least hear me out (even if the apologies and half assed attempts at reconciliation did fall on deaf ears) had bothered me more than if he’d fought a back and forth verbal battle with me.

And now…well now all of the tension and the uneasiness between us has apparently evaporated. I’m not sure if it’s just the effects of the pain meds as they kick into high gear and they’ve messed with my brain enough so I don’t feel the chill that’s usually between us, or if Sid’s new found love has successfully brought an end to any and all feelings he’d previously been carrying around for my wife. None of the guys had gotten even the tiniest peek on the ‘mystery woman’ that had joined us in Los Angeles; she’d apparently spent her time locked away in his room and had only surfaced when the team had been out of the hotel.

The closest I’d come to finding out her identity was hearing a girlish, melodic giggling mixed in with Sid’s infamous laugh as I passed by his room; there’d been a room service tray filled with remnants of breakfast and empty glasses and plates sitting next to his door and the Do Not Disturb sign had been dangling from the handle. It had honestly caused an ear to ear grin to spread across my face; I’d been somewhat proud of him for both having the balls to break from his rigid schedule and ‘traditions’ and invite a woman to visit, and for getting laid as much as I’d imagined he was. And there’d also been a more selfish reason for why the emergence of Sid’s sex life had made me feel so damn content and relaxed; a new woman -that he was apparently serious enough about to do something so uncharacteristic as take up with her during a road trip- meant that my wife was no longer on Sid’s radar. He was going on with his life, which in turn meant that Em and I could go on with ours.

Had our relationship been even remotely the same as it had been just five and a half short months ago, I would have been the first person on his ass; I would have already been riding him mercilessly about who his new flavour was. I wouldn’t have given up until he’d given me some sort of answer; I would have been annoying and persistent and in the end he would have cursed at me in French and called me every name in the book and then proceeded to spill the goods. We’re still not there yet; we’re still not ready to be talking about one another’s personal lives and we’re still not prepared to move on to the point where he’s ready to forgive and forget. And maybe that will never happen; maybe he’ll always hate me in some way, shape or form and our lives will never regain even some semblance of what they’d been like before.

“How’s the shoulder?” Sid asks; I can hear the pain that tinges his voice as he hobbles the remaining distance to the exam table beside me and hoists himself up onto the edge.

“C’est merveilleux,” I reply, and laying my cell phone on my stomach, run both hands over my weary, unshaven face. I’m debating taking a razor to it as soon as I get back to the hotel, yet leaving behind the ‘Fu Man Chu’ ‘stache that had been extremely popular with the ladies last year. “It would be even better if they just amputated my entire arm,” I remark, and then glance over at him. “What are you in for?” I ask.

“My fucking ankle is acting up,” Sid explains with an exasperated sigh that clearly means ‘I just don’t have the time for this shit’. “Ever since I had that high sprain last year it’s never been the same. I can be walking to the john just to take a piss and it goes over on me. Or I can tell you what the weather is going to be like depending on how stiff it is and how bad it’s aching. I guess this is when it all starts, huh? This is where we start developing fucking arthritis and shit.”

“Nature of the beast,” I say with a shrug. “I figure if I manage to at least make it to thirty five before I retire and I can still bend over and tie my own shoes, I’m not in such bad shape after all.”

“Yeah…’cause you don’t want to be so crippled up that you can’t get down on the floor and play with your kids and all that. You wanna make sure you take care of yourself, you know? More for their sake than yours.”

“Kids are the last thing on my mind right now,” I mutter, my nerves pricking at his mention of offspring when he knows goddamn well the kind of issues that Emma-Leigh has; he knows that there’s always the chance that the operation will only make things worse and we’ll never be able to have children of our own. I don’t think he meant it as a personal swipe; Sid isn’t the type to shit all over you when he’s sober and judging by the apologetic look he shoots me, it’s obvious that he realizes he’s gone ahead and shoved his foot straight in his mouth.

“I didn’t mean anything by it,” he assures me, and gives a sheepish smile. “I just meant that you have to take care of yourself for the sake of your future kids. It’s not like you’re ancient or anything; you’ve got lots of time before you have to think about stuff like that. And I know if I was a newlywed, I wouldn’t want to be saddled down with a baby when all I really want to do is…”

“Don’t worry about,” I interject, as I peel the layer of surgical tape off of my wedding band and crumbling it into a tight ball, toss it in the direction of the trash can a few feet away. “No offence taken. Pas mal, pas de faute.”

I notice the way he intently watches my hands; a frown curving his lips and those hazel eyes riveted on my fingers as I pick at the specks of left behind tape that mar the shiny platinum band I sport. I’m honestly not doing it to draw attention to the fact that I’d married the woman that he’d been so adamant he’d be spending the rest of his life with; I’m not trying to make him feel miserable about the fact that it had been Emma-Leigh that had slipped that ring onto my finger. I’m normally not that type of person; I don’t intentionally hurt people or make their suffering even worse. And I open my mouth to apologize; to offer some kind of lame ‘I’m sorry’ for making it seem as if I’m torturing him, but Sid clears his throat noisily and rakes his hands through his hair and turns his body away from me; stretching his legs out on the exam table and leaning back on his elbows.

“So that was Em on the phone?” he casually asks. It’s more an innocent question than an attempt to fish for some kind of information.

“Ce n’etait pas evident?” I reply. “Is there anyone else I’d be saying ‘I love you’ to?”

“Just attempting to make conversation,” he mutters. “Aucune raison pour que tous merde a ce sujet. I’m not allowed to ask about her?”

“Depends on why you’re asking,” I tell him. “If you’re asking just to be nice…”

“Look…“ he heaves an exasperated sigh. “I know you’ve got this huge issue ‘cause Em and I were together before she was with you, but it happened, Max. It happened and you need to just fucking deal with it, okay? We work together; we see each other every damn day and we spend more time with one another than we do with our families. You need to just deal with the fact that there’s a lot of history between us; nothing is going to ever change that.”

“A lot of history between you?” I give a derisive snort. “You spent less than two months with her. It’s not like you were with her for a few years or something.”

“A lot went down in those two months,” he reminds me. “A lot of shit happened between us; stuff that’s always going to keep us tied together in one way or another. I know it’s probably weird for you that you have to spend so much time with her ex, but…”

“The only thing that’s weird is that you always find a way to bring her up into a conversation,” I calmly interject. “Not just with me but with Flower and Tanger and TK. You’re always finding this sneaky little ways to ask about her and find out what’s going on with her and you…?”

“I’m not sneaky about anything,” he objects. “I’ll ask outright about her. I’m not going to stop caring about how she’s feeling or quit showing an interest in her life just because…”

“She’s my wife,” I remind him. “My wife. Not yours. And there’s not a husband in this goddamn world that would put up with an ex boyfriend asking all kinds of shit about her and still having feelings for her. Can’t you just let it go, Sid? Can’t you just let her go?”

“I just want to know that she’s doing okay,” he reasons with an unapologetic shrug. “Just ‘cause things went down like they did doesn’t mean I stopped caring about her. I don’t want her to be sick anymore than you do. And if makes me feel better to hear that she’s doing alright.”

“I’m taking care of her just fine,” I assure him. “I always make sure she has everything that she needs to stay healthy. You think I just sent her away for shits and giggles? That I wanted her to be so far away from me? I did it for her. I sent her to Montreal so she could get the treatment she needed with no distractions. Nothing’s going to happen to her on my watch. So you need to just…”

“I gotta give you a lot of credit,” he says, sincerity oozing from every pore as he turns his head to the side and looks at me. “I wouldn’t have been able to do what you did; I wouldn’t have been able to send her away like that. I guess I’m just too selfish, you know? I would have been more worried about how lonely and miserable I’d be than about getting her the help she needed.”

“J’etais solitaire et miserable,” I inform him. “Ce n’etait pas facile. It killed me send her away and killed me to be have thousands of miles between us. There were times I was selfish; I wanted to go to Montreal and have her discharged and bring her back to Pittsburgh so I wouldn’t be so lonely anymore. But she needed help and I was the only one that was going to make sure she got it.”

I won’t tell him about how difficult it had been to send her there; how it had shattered my heart into a million of pieces to release her into my brother’s care and listen to her sob as she clung to me for dear life in the middle of the airport. And how it had been the hardest feat I’d ever attempted in my life to remain stoic and strong as she begged and pleaded with me to not send her away. She’d been a hysterical mess and it had nearly destroyed me when she’d turned her tear stained face towards me and her hands had frantically fisted my shirt and she’d promised “I’ll be good. I’ll be a good girl. I’ll do whatever you want. Just don’t send me to that place.”

It had been her breaking point; an emotional meltdown of near epic proportions that had seen the doctors putting her into a week of intensive therapy in a setting that could only be described as solitary confinement. But she’d come out of it a healthier and stronger person and from that moment on the road had only been uphill.

“You’re a bigger man than me,” Sid admits. “’Cause I couldn’t have done it. I’m not that strong, you know? I wasn’t ever able to put my foot down with her; I never was able to say no and mean it and I couldn’t rein her in when she needed to be. And you…well you’re not afraid to do things like that. I was always worried that she’d hate me; that she’d take off and never come back. And now I realize that that had been my biggest fault. That if I’d just been a more forceful and stronger and I had had gotten a handle on things…”

“This isn’t about who the stronger or ‘bigger’ man is , Sid. It was never about that. Il n’a jamais ete a ce sujet. It wasn’t about who was the better man. It was about who the better man was for Emma-Leigh. And I’m not saying that you couldn’t have handled it or that you couldn’t have gotten her what she needed, but it’s not like you actually have the time to worry about stuff like that, you know? You’ve got a lot on your plate and no one faults you for not being able step up. It’s hard enough being you without having all that other stuff dropped in your lap.”

He nods in agreement.

“What happened, happened. Neither of us can change that. I can apologize until I’m blue in the face and you can be as bitter and hurt for as long as you want. I’m not going to take that away from you. But neither of us change what went down.”

“I just want to know that she’s okay,” Sid says. “I just want to know that she’s doing alright and that you’re taking good care of her. I need to know that. Because I do worry about her and I do care about her and I’ve known you for a while now and…”

“I’m not the same person I was,” I point out. “I’m not the same Max anymore. She’s changed me; she’s made me want to be a better person. And I’d rather jump off a bridge somewhere and kill myself before I ever hurt her. She’s my everything; my entire world. I would never do anything to screw that up.”

“Good…” he gives a long, slow and thoughtful nod.

*****

“And if I ever do, you have permission to kick my ass,” I attempt to lighten the mood after several minutes of silence. “I give you the go ahead to beat the shit out of me. To chop my body into a million pieces and encase them in cement and drop them into the lake behind your place back in Nova Scotia.”

“I’ll remember that,” he says with a chuckle.

“And as far as Em goes, she’s doing good. She’s got a psychiatrist in town that she starts going to in a few days; two appointments a week until the doctor feels she can cut back to just a couple a month. And she’s on meds that keeps things under control.”

“That’s good. Whatever it takes, you know? Whatever she needs to do to stay healthy.”

“I just called home to tell her about what happened in practice and to let her know I was flying back to Pitt tomorrow. Apparently she’s baking up a storm. I tell you, she’s a regular Betty Crocker when it comes to cookies and desserts and all of that, but the girl can’t cook for shit.”

Sid laughs at that.

“And she’s spending all her quality time with the boys,” I add. “I got her two dogs for Valentines Day,” I explain, when he arches a quizzical eyebrow. “Beagles. They’re just puppies. She named the Copper and Todd after…”

“The main characters in Fox and the Hound,” he finishes for me. “Her favourite Disney movie from when she was a kid.”

I nod in agreement.

“Yeah…” a fond smile of reminiscence tugs at the corners of his mouth. “…we used to talk about stuff like that all the time.”

I’d be lying if I said a pang of jealousy didn’t hit me scare in the chest. He’s entirely right; I can’t stand the thought of them sharing a history and I certainly can’t stomach the idea of them ever being intimate with each other. The fact that I see Sid on a regular basis -someone that has seen my wife naked and who has engaged in sexual acts with her- is harder than anyone could possible realize.

“So what’s up with you?” I ask, anxious to change the subject. “Who’s this mystery girl you shacked up with in LA? Why are you keeping it such a huge secret?”

“It’s not a secret,” he shrugs. “And it’s not that much of a mystery. If it was I never would have asked her to come in the first place. I just haven’t talked about it with any of the guys, you know? I don’t want to make her locker room gossip. She’s too good for that. I respect her and I really care about her and she deserves more than that; she doesn’t deserve to be ‘jock talk’.”

“Fair enough…” I peacefully surrender. “If you don’t want to talk about it, you don’t…”

“Her name’s Autumn,” Sid reveals. “She‘s a social worker at UPMC. She works with terminally ill children and their families. I met her when I went there a couple weeks ago to do my little meet and greet with the oncology kids.”

“Autumn…” I give an approving nod. “Pretty name. Does her name match her looks or…?”

“She’s incredible,” he says. “She’s…I don’t know…she just…she just sparkles.”

I can’t help but smile, or notice the way Sid’s entire face lights up and his eyes twinkle as he talks about her.

“She’s a bit older than me,” he admits. “That’s one of the reasons she wants to keep things pretty low key. She’s worried about how people will react; what people will say when they find out about us and that fact that she’d been married before and has a kid. You know what the fan girls are like, Max. They’ll rip her to shreds.”

I nod in agreement. “She was married as in she’s divorced now? Or…?”

“Her first husband died,” Sid explains. “He was a cop and he was killed during a routine traffic stop. She doesn’t talk about him much. But her little guy? Ryan? He’s amazing. She just wants to protect him from all the backlash that’s going to take place when people find out about us.”

“So it’s a legit thing? The two of you? It’s a serious thing?”

“I want it to be,” he says. “I really want it to be. But right now…well right now we’re a work in progress.”

“Better than being nothing,” I reason.

“She doesn’t know about Emma-Leigh,” Sid informs me. “I mean, she knows that I’d been with someone and they’d married a teammate of mine. But…”

“Everyone knows about that,” I smirk. “That was tabloid worthy shit in every newspaper.”

“But she doesn’t know about the baby,” he continues. “I never told her about that. I’m not even sure I should. Or if I’m even ready to talk about it yet. I haven’t talked about it with anyone except for that first night with my dad. And now Disco Dan…” he lowers his voice as if he’s afraid that someone will overhear our conversation. “…did you know that Disco Dan’s wife lost a baby?” he inquires. “That she’d been pregnant and everything was perfect and that one day in her eighth month she didn’t feel the baby moving and she called him in a panic while he was down in Wilkes-Barre and when they got to the hospital the baby was dead? Did you hear about all of that?”

“I heard some talk about it,” I reply. “I never heard the actual story.”

“I don’t know how long ago it happened or how old his boy was when this all went down, but that’s some seriously traumatic shit. And now…well now he wants to talk to me. About what happened with Emma-Leigh. About my baby.”

“It might be good for you,” I try to be as positive and encouraging as possible. “It might be good to talk to someone else that’s been through something like that. If you’ve been keeping it inside all of this time…”

“But it’s not the same thing,” Sid gently argues. “His baby was almost ready to be born. It could have survived if his wife had gone into premature labour. If it hadn’t had died in the womb…”

“A baby is a baby,” I remind him. “Doesn’t matter how far along a woman is or…”

“It just doesn’t feel right to compare what he went through to what I went through. It seems like it’s two entirely different things and I can’t help but think that…”

“I think the problem is that you’re not ready to talk about,” I interject. “I think that you’re so used to having to push all of your personal shit to the back burner that you don’t feel comfortable discussing things like that. And bottling shit up like that? That is not healthy. And I don’t mean to go all Doctor Phil on you here but…”

The door to the trainers’ room swings open; the arrival of Mark and our team physician bringing an end to our intense conversation and effectively switching Sid from the personal, private side of his life to the professional one. He’s been conditioned that way; he’s been programmed and trained to not care about anything other than hockey.

And I honestly can’t help -despite all of his fame, supreme talent and riches- but feel sorry for him.