The Man Who Can't Be Moved

“When you asked me to take the day off so we could spend some alone time together, this is not exactly what I had in mind,” Autumn remarks, as her coffee brown eyes nervously survey our cavernous, dimly lit surroundings.

The Southpointe practice facility is awash in silence; the restaurant is closed, the stands are empty , a scattering of florescent lights above the ice -it had taken me several minutes of flicking random switches on the master control board to finally find the ones that would provide the proper amount of illumination- causing the slick surface to shimmer. The only three people in the building besides us are the custodian in charge of the public washroom, locker areas and offices clean, the zamboni driver/keeper of the ice, and a security guard entrusted to keep his eye on the place. All three had looked the other way when Autumn and I had shown up shortly before ten in the morning and I’d pulled a master key to the place out from one of the pockets of my Pens hoodie and had proceeded to let us into the rink. They’d snickered amongst each other and exchanged knowing glances, yet had kept all comments regarding my unannounced appearance with the woman who’d just recently been outted as my girlfriend, to themselves.

The last time I’d been here -outside of a practice, of course- had been the night Emma-Leigh had lost the baby; I’d taken off from the hospital after being told about the miscarriage and I’d come here in a vain attempt to both forget what had happened and torture myself with the guilt I’d felt for not being able to protect her or our baby. All my life hockey’s been the only thing I’ve ever known; I’m the most comfortable when I’m on the ice and it helps me push all of my problems and worries clear out of my mind. Unfortunately, that night the sport I love had only served to make things worse. Taking off when Em had needed me the most had been the beginning of the end for us; the one time when I’d needed to put hockey on the back burner in favour of taking care of something and someone else far more important, I’d been epic failure.

And while the memory of that night is still so vivid -I can still feel the blistering hot tears cascading down my face, the unbearable burning in my lungs and the agonizing grief that had shredded my heart and knotted my stomach and I can pinpoint the exact sport on the ice where I’d not only finally allowed myself to crumble under the enormity of the situation but where my father had found me in the midst of my breakdown- reliving it doesn’t hurt nearly as much as it did before. In fact, the pain is barely recognisable anymore.

“I’m just surprised that you even agreed to call in sick,” I say, as we face each other while straddling the wooden bench in what’s normally the A squads territory during practice scrimmages.

Autumn’s left leg is stretched out and her foot mere centimetres from my crotch as I lace her first skate. They’d been the initial part of my surprise; a pair of RBK skates with pink tongues and laces that I’d asked my ‘go to guy’ in the design department within the company to make for her. I’d been planning on giving them to her on her birthday in May, but when they’d been finished and delivered far sooner than I’d expected and the finished product had been even better than I’d originally imagined, I’d decided to give them to her ahead of schedule. And seeing as I’ve been on cloud nine since last night -her decision to move in with me had done wonders for my both my confidence and my ‘moving on’ process- and she’d quickly and easily agreed to taking the day off so we could spent it together while Ryan is in school, I’d figured there’s no time like the present.

“You didn’t think something was up when I told you to dress warm and bring a hat and mitts?” I inquire, as I firmly tug on the laces before wrapping them around the top of the boot and then tying them tightly at the front.

“I thought maybe we were doing something outdoors,” she replies. “I thought maybe you were taking me hiking or something. You’re not going to get in trouble for this, are you? Are you really supposed to be bringing me here? Why does this feel so damn sneaky and scandalous?”

“I have a key,” I remind her. “Nothing sneaky or scandalous. It’s not like I had to break in or bribe the guard to let us through the door.”

“But are you really supposed to bring someone here? I can understand you being allowed to come here alone to do your thing, but do you really think it’s okay that I’m here too?”

“Who am I going to get in trouble with? I can come and go as I please. As long as we don’t trash the place, it’s all good. Stop worrying so much, alright? It’s not like Mario’s going to ground me or anything.”

“Okay…” she looks and sounds sceptical. “But you know I can’t skate, right? You realize I’ve never done it before? I mean, I’ve loved hockey all my life but I’ve never actually stepped on the ice before. You remember me telling you that, right?”

“I remember,” I confirm, and pull the leg of her jeans down over the skate before motioning for her to place her other foot on the bench and grabbing the remaining skate from the box that rests on the ground below. Wasn’t it one of your lame ass excuses for not wanting to go out with me? Didn’t you try and use it as a reason for why we wouldn’t work?”

“I just figured you’d want to be with someone that could play hockey,” she explains. “Or someone that could at least skate.”

“Because someone being able to ply hockey is just the most important thing in the world to me,” I smirk. “You love watching the sport. That’s enough for me. As long as we can watch it together and I don’t have to spend the entire three periods explaining the rules and you understand what I’m yapping about after I’ve had a bad night at the rink, it’s all good.”

“Maybe I should take lessons,” she muses. “Skating lessons.”

“Why take skating lessons when you’ve got the best possible teacher at your immediate disposal?” I ask, as I use the same methodical lacing and tying technique on her skates as I always employ on my own. “How in the hell did you ever grow up in the Maritimes and not learn to skate? You’re Canadian for Christsakes. Not knowing how to skate is sacri-fucking-ligious.”

“It’s not that I never wanted to learn how to skate. I had wanted to play hockey so damn bad! It’s just that I was the only girl and my mother was all prim and proper and she wanted her princess to be in beauty pageants and ballet. She said hockey was a Neanderthal sport and not suitable for girls and that playing it would…get this…turn me gay.”

“Seriously? There’s tons of girl hockey players out there that are feminine. Mind you, the majority of them are pretty butch.”

“Well my mom was convinced that girls’ hockey equalled lesbianism. Or ‘sexual deviance’ as she called it. And I absolutely refused to take figure skating. Definitely not my thing. All the twists and turns and spins and those dumb ass frilly costumes. So I was relegated to ballet and gymnastics and beauty competitions. Total girly shit.”

“Beauty competitions, huh? You ever win any of them?”

“If I say yes it makes me sound elitist. If I say no, it makes me sound as if I was too ugly to win.”

“Autumn, there’s no way you were an ugly child. It’s impossible. No one’s that this beautiful now could have been ugly growing up.”

The corners of her eyes crinkle as she graces me with a beaming smile and then leans over to cover my lips with hers in a slow, soft kiss before sitting back once again and allowing me to return to working on her skate.

“I won a prettiest baby contest when I was six months old,” she reveals. “And I consistently finished in second place for Nova Scotia Junior Miss five years in a row and in the senior category for three. I always lost to the same girl. Sue-Ellen Gregory. Sue-Ellen…” she gives a derisive snort. “…so redneck sounding, don’t you think? And what parent names their kid after a character from Dallas? You know, the television show?”

I nod.

“Anyhow, she was tall and willowy and had curly blond hair down past her hair and these huge blue eyes with obviously fake lashes. And she wasn’t even from Nova Scotia! She was from New Brunswick! But I guess her dad knew someone who knew someone else who was sleeping with someone on the pageant committee and they let her compete. I got my revenge though, you know how?”

“How?” I ask, and pull her jeans down over the skate. I can’t help but find the story -and the youthful exuberance she exhibits while relaying it- extremely amusing. This is a far cry from the ‘usual’ Autumn; the one that is always so conservative -in both dress and personality- and who is always so poised and professional when speaking. Right now she seems so…different. There’s an entirely foreign excitement to her voice and an almost childlike wonder sparkling in her eyes.

“Well I didn’t get revenge per say. But Father Time sure did! I saw her a couple years ago and she’s hideous. All wrinkled and dried up from too much time in the sun and too much hard living and booze. She lives in a trailer park with her third husband and her menagerie of kids and animals. Not to mention she’s about three hundred pounds and her boobs hand to her knees. And then there’s me…still young and still somewhat beautiful with my tits relatively in their right place.”

“You’re far from being somewhat beautiful,” I argue, and leaning into her until the tips of our noses are touching, slowly run my palms along the length of her thighs. “And as far as your boobs go…” I glance down at her chest -covered by both one of my RBK hoodies and a turtleneck- and rest my hands on her hips. “…well I think they’re pretty fucking perfect.”

Wrapping her arms around my neck, Autumn kisses me once more; insanely passionate and intense and greedy as her tongue pushes its way into my mouth. Within seconds I’m already starting to pitch a tent; the beginnings of an erection pushing against the confines of my boxers and nylon workout pants and she’s yanked my ball cap off and tosses it aside and her fingers are tunnelling in my hair. And for the first time in my life, thoughts of both hockey and sex are perfectly and peacefully co-existing and I seriously consider throwing her down on the bench and fucking her right here, right now.

“Okay…” Autumn breaks out of the kiss first and then sits back and vigorously fans her face with her hand. “You need to just…I don’t know…you just need to stop being so damn bangable all the time.”

“I’ll try,” I promise with a grin, and scooping my hat up off the ground, slip it back onto my head. “Here…” reaching into my jacket pocket, I pullout a navy blue knit toque -ancient and tattered from use and bearing the Rimouski Oceanique logo- and slip it onto her head. “You know, I did get you a pink helmet to match your skates, but I left it in the Range Rover. I could always run out and grab it and…”

“Don’t go overboard,” she frowns. “A helmet? For real?”

“Don’t want you to fall and get a concussion.”

“You’re planning on letting me fall?” her eyes widen in fright. “You don’t intend to catch me?”

“Accidents happen,” I shrug, and getting to my feet, stand alongside the bench and offer a hand. “Safety first, right?” That seems to be our motto even within our personal ‘dealings’. I don’t think I’ve ever practice safer sex in my entire life; condoms and the pill. There certainly won’t be any unwanted pregnancies in our relationship.

“I love my new skates!” she gushes, as she curls her fingers around mine and I help her to her feet. “Especially the pink blades! I didn’t realize that made coloured blades.”

“They don’t,” I say. “Those are skate guards, babe. You’re supposed to take those off.”

“Oh…oh!” she laughs hysterically -a laugh that sounds exactly like Julia Roberts’ famous cackle- and then places her hand on my shoulder as I bent down to slip off the items in question. “Of course! I’m such a dumb ass! I’m sorry! I’m having my blond moment of the day. I actually have lots of them. You’ve been warned.”

“This is a whole new world for you,” I reason, and pushing her hair off her shoulder, press a feathery kiss to her lips.

I plan on making that world as perfect as possible.

******

“My feet hurt,” Autumn pouts dramatically an hour and a half later, as she stands between my splayed thighs as I sit on the ice, back resting against the boards behind me.

As terrible as she is at skating -flailing and swaying and shrieking in both terror and amusement and clutching at my clothing and the boards in an attempt to keep herself on her feet- I’d honestly never had so much fun -non hockey related, of course- when it came to being on the ice. Yet as awful as she is, I can’t help but wonder if half of her struggling is exaggerated; she’s an incredibly smart woman and I’m sure she’s a faster learner than what she’s letting on. In fact, I’m pretty sure she’s milking her ‘Bambi on ice’ shtick for all it’s worth; she seems to enjoy actually falling on her ass in order to get the hugs and the kisses and rub downs she receives afterwards.

“And my bum too,” she whines. “We should have tied a pillow to my butt.”

“I only let you fall twice,” I argue.

“I fell more than that! I fell at least ten times!” she cries.

“Well only two were actually intentional,” I say, and then laugh when she sticks her tongue out at me. “Come on now…don’t be like that…don’t be such a baby…” reaching out, I softly massage the backs of her calves. “…I didn’t mean to let you fall so much. I just figured if you landed on your ass, it gave me the excuse to kiss it all better.”

“Cop a feel you mean,” she grins. “You really need to have an excuse? Don’t you think we’re at the stage now where you can just do it? Where you can just grab my ass for no reason?”

“I’m a gentleman,” I retort. “Unless you tell me that you…”

“I’m not giving you a written invitation to grab my ass or feel my tits or whatever else perverted little thing your out of control hormones are ordering you to do. Don’t be so damn virginal, small town boy with me. I know exactly how kinky and dirty you can be, Sidney Patrick.”

“Turns me on when you call me by my full name,” I declare, and she shrieks when I wrap my arms around her thighs and haul her down onto my lap. “You had fun, right? You’re not so bruised and banged up that you don’t ever want to skate again, are you? ‘Cause this was supposed to be fun, Autumn. And if it’s not your thing and you don’t want to do it again, I’m not going to force you to. I’m not…”

“It was fun,” she assures me, as she settles herself sideways on my thighs and curls both arms around my neck. “I had a lot of fun. I’m glad that we can do this together. That you can teach me to be better at it. Because this is part of your life and I know it’s important to you. I want to learn. More for you than for me. Although…” she presses a kiss to my cheek and nestles her head in the crook of my neck. “…I’m not entirely sure how I’ll pay for the lessons.”

“Oh don’t worry…” I chuckle, as I wrap an arm around her waist and lay my hand on her thigh. “…we’ll figure out some kind of reimbursement process.”

“I’m sure we will,” she giggles, and I feel her lashes tickle my skin as her eyelids flicker closed.

This feels so amazing; sharing the one thing that’s always been a major part of my life with the one person that’s quickly becoming an even bigger part of it.

“You never told me about your meeting with Emma-Leigh went yesterday,” Autumn says, breaking the several minutes of companionable silence that had descended upon us.

“I didn’t think you wanted to hear about it. I thought you would have brought it up last night if you wanted the details.”

“Of course I want to hear about it. I just didn’t want to stick my nose where it didn’t belong; I wanted to give you the space to deal with it on your own. I just figured if you wanted me to know about it, you’d tell me.”

“It went okay,” I shrug. “We just needed to clear the air after that phone call the other night.”

“That’s all she wanted you to go over to her house for?” she lifts her head from my shoulder and pulls back slightly to regard me both sceptically and thoughtfully. “To clear the air?”

“There were a few other things,” I admit, and softly stroke her thigh. “She just wanted to apologize for what happened. She just wanted to say that she was sorry for handling things the way she did when it came to the whole ‘me or Max’ thing. She really does feel bad about it, Autumn. She doesn’t have a malicious or deceitful bone in her body; she was just scared and messed up and she didn’t know how to handle things differently. I can’t hate her for it. I’m hurt and I’m pissed off, but I can’t hate her. Not when she was so sick and going through so much. It wasn’t like I didn’t do anything wrong; I played a bit of a part in everything too. There were a lot of things I should have done differently.”

“You’re definitely a bigger person than I am,” Autumn grumbles.

“It doesn’t do anyone any good to be angry anymore,” I say. “It doesn’t do me…or us…any good…to be holding onto feelings like that. I want to move on. I’m trying to move on. And dwelling on what Em did to me and hating her or Max for it just means that the wounds can’t heal. I want them to heal, Autumn. So bad.”

She gives a tiny smile and presses a kiss to the corner of my mouth.

“I want you to be my life now,” I tell her. “You and Ryan. And you both deserve more than me dwelling on what happened before I ever met you guys. Yesterday was all about letting go. It was all about me finally letting go of what happened. Em’s happy with Max. They’re happy together and they love one another. I can’t deny them that. And I can’t keep denying myself happiness either.”

“So that’s it?” Autumn inquires. “It’s officially over between you two? I don’t have to worry about…”

“There was never anything for you to worry about. I was just having a hard time letting go. And when I saw her yesterday and I realized how happy she is…I don’t know, Autumn…Emma-Leigh was never that happy with me. Not legitimately happy, anyway. There was always this sadness eating away at her. You could see it in her eyes all the time. And yesterday? Well yesterday I didn’t see it. And it’s Max that made it disappear. I can’t deny that.”

“Doesn’t mean it makes what they did less horrible,” she points out.

“Maybe not, but it makes what they did less significant in my life. I went on, didn’t I? I found you, right? I survived and I met someone else and fell in love with them. You’re all that matters now.”

Her smile increases and she nuzzles my ear with the tip of her nose.

“She’s having a baby,” I reveal, and I’m grateful that the admittance doesn’t hurt. At all. “Two, actually. She’s four months along and she’s going to have some kind of operation to remove a cyst that could cause a miscarriage.”

“How does that make you feel?” Autumn asks, regarding me intently.

“I don’t know…” I reply with a shrug. “…it doesn’t hurt as much I thought it would. I mean, I feel really sad about it, but…” I tighten my hold on her when she sighs heavily and attempts to climb off my lap. “…not because I still love her and I still want to be with her. It’s not about her being with Max or having his babies, Autumn. This is about my baby. It’s about him or her and how I never grieved over them. How I always hid how I was feeling because I was too busy trying to worry about how other people were feeling.”

“You don’t have to hide it from me,” she says. “You can tell me, Sidney.”

“My baby never stood a chance,” I attempt to swallow the lump of emotion that sits squarely in my throat. “I wanted that baby. I wanted to be a dad. And you know what? It fucking hurts that I never got that chance. For the longest time I blamed myself; I hated myself for it because I thought it was my fault for not protecting Em or our baby. She thought I blamed her when it was actually the opposite.”

“It was no one’s fault,” Autumn gently points out. “It just happened. Neither of you are to blame. Neither of you did anything wrong.”

“My son or my daughter would have been born next month,” I can’t contain the tears that trickle down my cold, chapped cheeks. “I would have been getting ready to be a dad in four weeks, Autumn. And it’s not so much myself that I feel sorry for myself. It’s the baby I can’t stop thinking about. I know Em was only a couple of months, but it was still a human being and all I can think about and wonder about is if he or she knew how badly we wanted them. If they knew how much we loved them and that we would have given anything to stop what happened. We didn’t want to lose them.”

“Of course not,” she whispers. “No one wants anything like that to happen.”

“I just want answers, I guess. I want someone to be able to tell me why. I want someone to tell me why it happened to my baby.”

“Things just happen,” she reasons. “There’s no rhyme or reason sometimes. No one has those answers, Sidney. No one can tell you why. In the same way no one can tell me why Quinton had to die that day. Why did it have to be him? Why did he have to be the one that stopped that car? He never patrolled that section of the highway. Ever. Yet that day he did and look what happened. Does it sound like there’s a logical reason to what happened to him?”

I shake my head.

“I’m sorry that it happened to you…” she cradles my face tenderly in her hands. “…I’m sorry that you went through this. That you’re still going through it. But I can’t give you the answers you want. No one can. All I can tell you is that it will get better. It always gets better. One day it won’t hurt this bad. I promise.”

“I’m sorry..” I sniffle noisily and attempt to wipe my eyes on the sleeve of my arm, only to have her shove it away from my face. “I’m sorry I’m acting like this. I’m sorry that…”

“Don’t ever, ever apologize for anything,” she orders, and then proceeds to press feathery, gentle pecks on my forehead, eyes and my cheeks. “Especially for being a human being. Understand me?”

I nod and then lean in to cover her lips with mine in a slow, tender kiss.

And I can’t help but realize that with the handful of tears I’ve shed, the weight I’ve lifted off my chest by talking about the baby and the patience and understanding in both Autumn's words and her touches and kisses, I feel almost whole again.

Almost.