The Man Who Can't Be Moved

“So….Womanizer…” Staalsy swallows half a bottle of Bud in one gulp and then lets loose a rib shaking, near window rattling belch that draws appreciative nods and smirks from the guys gathered in the soon to be completed nursery and a disgusted grimace and a sigh of exasperation from Vero as she hovers in the doorway and keeps a close eye on our progress. Or lack thereof. “When were you going to come clean to the rest of the guys about Em having a couple buns in the oven?”

Vero gives an audible gasp; Tanger clears his throat uncomfortably, removes his ball cap and rakes his fingers through his ‘sex hair’ while Flower keeps his eyes riveted on the instruction booklet spread across his lap. Neither of the little fuckers will meet the scolding, accusatory gazes that I level their way. Aside from my family -and I’m assuming Sid now that it’s been a couple of hours since he’d shown up at my house- the people inside of this room save for Staalsy are the only ones I’ve told about the babies. So someone’s obviously gone ahead and opened their big fat trap.

“Doesn’t matter who told me,” Staalsy says. “What matters is that you didn’t tell me. What’s up with all the fucking secrecy?”

“We didn’t want to tell a lot of people right away,” I reason, as I tear into a small plastic baggy of various screws, bolts and washers and then neatly arrange them in separate piles in front of me. “Em needs to have an operation in a couple of weeks and there’s a chance she might lose the babies. We wanted to just keep as quiet as possible about it until we knew the outcome.”

“Well how come I wasn’t on your list of select few?” he inquires. “How come you were holding off on telling me?”

“Did you not hear what he just said?” Flower responds with a question of his own. “His wife has to go into the hospital and have an operation. She might lose the babies. Why tell everyone about it and then have to go back and be the bearer of bad news if something goes wrong? I think it makes sense to keep quiet about it. If something bad happens, no one knew there were ever babies in the first place. Everything goes good and it’s a big celebration. You’d do the same thing, non? Il n’a rien de personnel. Quit acting like such a girl and making a big deal out of nothing.”

“I’d tell my friends if it was happening to me,” Staalsy grumbles. “That’s what I am, right? He told all you guys.”

“He told Vero and I because our OB specializes in high risk pregnancies and we could get them through the door without waiting for a referral. And Tanger found out because Peyton’s Emma-Leigh’s best friend and they were together when she took the test. Why are you being such a whiny little bitch about this? No one else knows. Not even TK. And he’s the babies’ blood uncle.”

“Not to mention you’re Team Sid,” Tanger pipes up. “Second you found out, you would have run to him and squealed.”

“I’m not Team anyone,” the kid from Thunder Bay argues. “It’s you guys and Dupers that formed the unholy alliance with Max the second the shit hit the fan. It’s you two that were practically recruiting people to join the dark side. Sid was the one that was fucked over in all of this, you know. And he’s my friend. My captain. There’s some huge loyalty there. Well, at least for some of us.”

“Oh here we go,” Flower rolls his eyes. “Here we go with the whole ‘who did the most dirt to who’ bullshit. It’s always the same old crap when this gets brought up. Max is the villain and Sid’s the perfect angel. Give me a fucking break. Let’s face it; the girl never would have cheated on him if there hadn’t been a reason to. Obviously he wasn’t making her happy if she felt like she had to run to Max. Maybe if Sid had have had a better handle on his relationship, she wouldn’t have kicked him to the curb.”

“Max should have just kept his dick in his pants and said no,” Staalsy retorts. “He should have lived up to his responsibilities as a best friend…”

“We all have horribly boring lives if this is the only thing we have to talk about when we get together,” Tanger mutters.

“Responsibilities as a best friend?” Flower gives a derisive snort. “There’s a list of rules and responsibilities someone has to follow?”

“A decent human being wouldn’t fuck his best friend’s girl,” Staalsy points out.

“That’s rich coming from you,” Tanger says. “Considering you were the one that told us all about how when you were sixteen, your brother Marc walked in on you with your face buried in between his girlfriend’s legs. Or how about the time last year when you were banging those sisters from Mount Lebanon? They didn’t know they were sharing you, did they? You’re the last goddamn person who should be pulling this self righteous, high and mighty bullshit.”

“It’s all water under the bridge anyway,” Flower says. “It happened months ago. How much longer are we going to talk about it? How much longer as we going to rehash things and argue about it over and over again? It’s in the fucking past, mon ami. Leave it there. Concentrate on your own life instead of worrying about Max’s so damn much.”

“Hard to leave it in the past when he’s constantly shoving it in Sid’s face,” Staalsy grumbles. “First he fucks the guy’s girlfriend, then he marries her, now he’s having fucking babies with her.”

“He’s got a right to have kids with his wife,” Tanger says. “What are they supposed to do? Never procreate out of fear of hurting Sid’s feelings? Vous êtes un imbécile total. That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Stop dwelling on something that was never any of your business in the first place,” Flower suggests. “Sounds like you’re having a hard time getting on with things than Max and Sid are. Why are you so up in their fucking grills about shit? What’s it all got to do with you? If Sid and Max are able to put it behind them and be boys again…”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” I mumble, and snagging a bottle of beer from its resting place on top of the Ikea box next to me, take a refreshing swig. “I can’t believe how fucking cheap you are, Flower,” I comment, anxious to both change the subject and keep my mind off of what may be going on back at my house. It’s not so much that I’m worried that there’s something scandalous taking place; I’m more concerned that Sid may have an uncharacteristic freak out and world war three will break out and my wife will get herself worked up. And I’ll fucking kill him with my bare hands if he even so as much indirectly causes something bad to happen to my babies. “All the money you make and you shop at Ikea? Most of the crap they sell there is complete and utter shit.”

“And cheap,” Tanger adds. “You can buy yourself a Lamborghini but you buy your kids furniture from Ikea? And it’s not even like their stuff is really nice. It’s all weird looking.”

“And the instructions are bullshit,” Staalsy complains. “We should have invited Geno along just to translate.”

“Geno’s Russian you fucking idiot,” Tanger scowls. “He speaks and reads Russian. Not goddamn Swedish. Seriously Flower…” he glances around the room and shakes his head in dismay. “…take all of this shit back and buy your babies nicer stuff. Quittez l'être maudit bon marché. It’s not like you can’t afford expensive stuff.”

“Why do babies need expensive shit anyways?” our goalie inquires. “Do you think they know the value of anything? Do you really think they appreciate how fancy and expensive a crib is? All they do is eat, seep and shit.”

“Just like men,” Vero quips. “Only they’re miniature in size. And they’re right, Marc. This stuff is cheap looking. And it’s definitely not what I wanted.”

“You wanted stuff that was ten times the price!” he exclaims, and then holds his hands up in surrender when his long time girlfriend shoots daggers at him from across the room. “Alright…alright…it’s four against one. I give up. I’ll package it all back up and return it. Are you happy now, woman? Is that what you wanted?”

“And you have the nerve to call me whipped,” I tease, and then jerk my leg out of the way when Flower directs a kick at my thigh.

“All good men are whipped,” Vero declares. “The women taking the reins is what keeps you on your toes and your life running like a well oiled machine. We’re all happy that way, aren’t we? You do as we say and we reward you with sex. No win situation if you ask me. Are you boys hungry? Do you want to take a break before packaging this all back up? Because there’s some nachos and chicken wings sitting on the kitchen table calling all your names and…”

Flower and Tanger are on their feet before she even manages to finish her sentence; practically tripping over themselves and one another as they attempt to beat each other to the door and then to the food that awaits us downstairs.

“Maxime? Jordan?” Vero asks. “Are you two coming or…?”

“I’m going to put some of this shit away and then take off,” I reply. “I’m kinda anxious to get home. You know, considering what’s going on over there…”

She nods in agreement and stares pointedly at Staalsy.

“I’ll give Max a hand,” he says. “I’ll be down in a few.”

“Okay…” she looks and sounds extremely apprehensive; eyes flickering rapidly between us as if she’s trying to decide whether or not she should stick around to play referee. Eventually she gives us both the benefit of the doubt and disappears from the doorway.

“So….” I push myself up onto my knees -grimacing as they crack noisily- and begin plucking up the now useless nuts and bolts from the carpet. “…how come you decided to tag along tonight? What’s up with you and Audrey? I thought you guys were getting pretty serious.”

“She studies a lot,” Staalsy shrugs. “Her schooling’s really important to her. She’s legit serious about this whole becoming a lawyer thing. No way she’s ever going to give that up. Even for me.”

“What are you going to give up for her? You going to stop dipping your pen in the company ink?”

He arches a quizzical eyebrow.

“There’s some talk going on around the arena about you,” I say. “About how you haven’t quit gotten your fill of Shero’s baby girl yet.”

“Fucking rumours, Max. Nothing but fucking rumours. I want nothing to do with that crazy bitch. She’s fucking sloppy seconds. Worse than that considering she also banged you, Tanger, Geno and a couple of the married guys. And before you start riding my ass about living in the Recchi’s pool house and accusing me of keeping the Missus company…”

“What’s there to accuse you about? It’s fucking obvious. Stop lying about it all the time.”

“…I’m moving in with Sid once he finally decides on a place of his own,” he ignores me entirely. “He’s been going around looking at some places in Sewickley and he knows that Audrey has an issue with me living with the Recchi’s and that she doesn’t want us moving in together while she’s still in school, so he offered to give me a place to stay.”

“Well isn’t that just so noble of him. Does it look like I care, Staalsy? Does it look like it matters to me that you and Sid are forming your own version of The Odd Couple? I don’t give a crap what either of you do. What I care about is you constantly sticking your nose in my shit and popping off these smart ass comments. I don’t understand you; one minute you’re on my side, next you’re totally on his. What ever happened to your whole ‘I’m staying neutral’ bullshit?”

“I’m not really on anyone’s side. I just feel like Sid could use a few more people that are sympathetic to his cause.”

“Sympathetic to his cause?” I can’t help but laugh. “You’re spending way too much time around college kids talking like that.”

“What you did was fucking shitty, Max. You were a total douche bag for poaching his girl. You can’t honestly tell me that you think it’s okay that you did it. There’s no way you could possibly defend it.”

“I’ve already done my apologizing and my explaining to the person who needed to hear it. It’s none of your goddamn business what went down in the same way it’s none of your business what’s going on between us now. I made amends, alright? What Sid does from here on out is up to him. If he wants to stay pissed off forever, that’s his damn prerogative. All I know is that we’re finding mending things a little bit and we don’t need nosy bastards all up in our shit. So if you don’t mind…”

“Does he know about the babies? Or were you going to keep that back from him the same way you hid the fact that you were fucking his girl behind his back?”

“I never…” I close my eyes briefly and squeezing my hands into tight fists, force myself to stay calm. “It happened once, okay? I only slept with her once behind his back. She broke up with him the morning after. Not that I owe you any kind of goddamn explanation. And as far as the babies go, Emma-Leigh told him. She called him and invited him over to the house and she told him face to face. I’m not a total asshole, you know. I may have fucked up once, but I got it right this time.”

“Sid’s at your house? Right now?”

“He’s probably gone by now. I’m sure she’s already told him. I don’t he stuck around afterwards.”

“You actually trust her to be alone with him? I mean, if she fucked you behind his back, what’s stopping her from doing the same thing to you?”

I instantly react. I don’t tolerate anyone talking shit about my wife and the second anything even remotely derogatory escapes their mouth I’m like a caged tiger who hasn’t been fed for days; I immediately smell blood and pounce before my mind even has a chance to completely catch up with my body. This case is no different; I snatch Staalsy by the front of his t-shirt and yank him viciously towards me.

“What the fuck did you just say?” I hiss. “What did you just say about my wife?”

“Just calling a spade a spade, Max. A leopard doesn’t change its spots. If she’d do him dirt, what makes you think she wouldn’t do it to you?”

“No one talks about my girl like that,” I growl, and toss him backwards onto his ass. “No one fucking disrespects my wife, got it? Not you, not anyone.”

“Easy Womanizer…easy…if you weren’t self conscious about it you wouldn’t be so damn defensive.”

“Emma-Leigh would never do that me,” I interject. “She’d never do something like that. Especially with him. It’s not like we’re just simple boyfriend and girlfriend. She’s my wife. She’s having my babies. She’d never do anything to hurt me.”

“Sid probably thought the same damn thing. He probably thought she’d never do what she did to him. But then you played a huge part in that, right? How ironic would that be? If you helped her ruin him and in the end he helps her ruin you?”

I shake my head in disgust and throw my hands up in surrender as I clamber to my feet. “You know what they say about opinions, Staalsy? They’re like assholes. Everyone’s got one. And yours doesn’t mean anything to me. It’s insignificant. It has no bearing on my life or how much I trust Emma-Leigh. So do me a favour. Keep your fucking trap shut.”

“I’m just saying that…”

“I don’t give a fuck what you have to say!” I bellow, as I head for the door. “Just get off Sid’s fucking jock already, pull your head out of his ass and keep your nose out of my shit! What is it to you? What possible difference does any of this make to you? Concentrate on your own life! Go find your girlfriend and get laid. Get your fucking dick sucked. Get her to do something that’ll make you stay the fuck out of someone else’s business!”

“Mature, Max. Really mature,” he snorts. “If the truth didn’t hurt so much…”

“Only thing that’s going to hurt is when someone has to surgically remove my fist from your face,” I snarl, and not giving him a chance to respond, step out into the hallway and slam the door angrily behind me.

Forget going home early. What I need right now is a stiff fucking drink.

********

It’s a quarter past midnight when I finally arrive home; Flower had stuffed me into the back of a yellow cab and had tossed the driver forty bucks along with my address after one drink had turned into several and before I knew it, Tanger and I had polished off a twenty-sixer of JD and a two four of beer. And I not only sway and stagger all the way up the front walk, but struggle for damn near twenty minutes just to get my house keys out of the pocket of my jacket and into the lock on the front door.

The entire house is shrouded in both silence and darkness as I finally make my way inside; I toss my keys on the table alongside of the front door, kick off my shoes and leave them in a clutter in the middle of the foyer, and then fumble with the deadbolt and the chain lock for ten minutes before finally getting both secured. My wife hasn’t left a single damn light on; it’s either punishment for me being so damn late or she legitimately thought I’d passed out at Flower’s and she hadn’t been expecting me to make my way home. Whatever the reason, it’s a bitch to find my way up the stairs; my vision isn’t just hazy from the disgusting amount of alcohol I’d consumed, but from the pitch blackness in the house and I have to use my toes to scope out the base of each stair before stepping up onto it.

If I get to the top in one piece it’ll be a miracle.

Half an hour from the time I’d been dropped off at the end of my driveway, I’m finally making my way into the master bedroom; the moonlight that streams through the sheer curtains covering the windows casts the bed in an ethereal, silver glow and I can easily make out my wife’s sleeping form. She lies on her left side with her back towards the door, dark hair fanning out over the crisp, cool, stark white sheets and both of her arms wrapped tightly around my pillow. It’s easy to imagine that this is the exact way she spends her nights when I’m on the road; clad in one of my shirts, her face buried into my pillow in order to breathe in the scent that lingers on the fabric.

She appears so peaceful and angelic that I almost don’t have the heart to wake her up and I’m struck by the urge to sit on the edge of the bed and watch her while she’s in the midst of a peaceful, content slumber. I linger at the side of the mattress for several minutes after I’ve shed my clothes; staring down at her with the utmost respect and adoration sweeping through my entire body and my hand softly skimming over the top of her head and stroking those long, silken tresses. And it isn’t until she murmurs sleepily and nestles her face into her pillow that I finally climb into bed as well; lifting the comforter and slipping underneath it before rolling over onto my side and curling an arm around her.

“Mmmm…” she gives a dreamy sigh and laying her hand over mine, entwines our fingers together and places our hands against the beginnings of her baby belly. “…if you’ve come to take advantage of me in my sleep, you better hurry up. My husband might be on his way home.”

“Yeah?” I grin, and drop a kiss to her shoulder. “Husband, huh? What’s he like? He a big guy? Think I could take him?”

“He’s not big but he’s mean and grouchy,” she plays along. “He’s French. And you know what they say about French people and their bad tempers.”

“I’ve heard that said once or twice. I’ve also heard about French people and their sexual skills.”

“Everything you’ve heard is the truth,” she declares. “His sexual skills are off the hook. So you have some mighty big shoes to fill.”

“Don’t worry, baby…” I press a kiss to her temple and place my lips against her ear. “…I’ll make it good for you. Don’t you ever worry about that.”

“Oh I am worried about…” she waves a hand in front of her face and then grimaces at me over her shoulder. “You stink like a goddamn liquor store, Maxime! How much did you have?”

“Just a little bit…” I raise my free hand and hold my thumb and forefinger half an inch apart. “Un peu.”

“You smell like you and Jack Daniels spent quite a bit of quality time together…” she wrinkles her nose in disgust and turns her face away when I attempt to lean in for a kiss. “…either go brush your teeth or sleep in the guest room.”

“I promised you sex,” I remind her. “And I never, ever break my promises. I know it isn’t going to be kitchen table sex, but I’m not above having it in the bed every once in a while. We don’t have to be kinky and adventurous all the time, right? Sometimes we can just get right down to business.”

“I’m not interested in drunk and sloppy two minute sex,” she informs me. “And you wouldn’t be able to get it up if there was a stiff breeze in the room.”

“Au contraire, mon amour. In my previous life I had a lot of experience in this kind of sex. I can get it up under any circumstance. See…” I bring both of our hands behind her back and press hers against the beginnings of my erection. “…Je vous l'avais bien dit. There’s your proof.”

“I don’t care…” she huffs, and forcibly yanks her hand away from mine. “…I’m just a little bit pissed off at you.”

“Think maybe you could also be a little bit horny?” I inquire. “’Cause I can turn a little bit into a whole lot.”

“You never even bothered to call me and tell me that you’d be this late,” she complains. “The least you could have done is called to say you were going to be this long. And then you come in at this time of the night and you’re hammered and you stink and you have the nerve to demand sex?”

“I’m not demanding anything. I’m just hopeful.”

“Did you drive home? Please tell me that you didn’t drive home. Please tell me you didn’t…”

“Détendez-vous, ma chérie,” I wrap my arm around her once more and pull her tightly into me; her ass settling in just nicely against my cock. “I’d never do something that stupid. You’ll have to drive me to Flower’s tomorrow so I can pick up my car. I can’t believe you’d think I’d do something like that. I’d never do something that would ever take me away from you. Or the babies. You mean too much to me. All of you. Tu es mon tout. Mon monde entier.”

“Well your entire world is exhausted,” Emma-Leigh says with a yawn. “You’re too little too late, I’m afraid. All the sweet talk in the world isn’t going to result in you getting laid tonight. Had you been about an hour earlier…”

“You just have to lie there. Just lie there and let me do my thing and…”

“Goodnight, Maxime,” she grumbles, and directs an elbow into my stomach. “Sleep it off and maybe I’ll give you an epic wake up call in the morning. But right now…well right now I just want to lie here with you. Can we do that? Just lie here? Can you just hold me? I want to fall asleep like that; I want to fall back asleep feeling your heart beating against my back and your breath on my shoulder. I miss that so much when you’re gone. Moments like that. I miss you period.”

“I’d do anything for you, Em,” I declare, as she entwines our fingers together once more and I bury my face in her hair. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. Je t'aime plus aujourd'hui qu'hier, mais moins que demain.”

“Je t'aime. Je vous ai toujours aimé. Je t'aimerai toujours,” she whispers, and then tightens her hold on my hand and lays it against her belly once again.

My entire world, everything that means the most to me, is right here in this room.