The Man Who Can't Be Moved

“Max…” Peyton’s soft voice and the sensation of the cool, smooth skin on the back of her hand against my cheek snaps me out of a restless, uncomfortable sleep.

I’d somehow managed to fall asleep in the weathered and tattered blue vinyl recliner parked at the side of Em’s bed; legs stretched out and my feet propped up on the mattress and both a hospital supplied pillow tucked between the left side of my face and the chair and starchy blanket pulled up to my chin. There’d been no hesitation on my part to stay overnight; I wasn’t going to leave my wife alone when her physical well being was so sketchy and I hated the idea of being a half an hour away if something bad happened to either her or the babies. The room is private and located at the very back of the maternal health ward; we’re secluded away from the other patients and I can easily shower and shave in the adjoining bathroom. Judging by what the doctors are saying, Emma-Leigh’s going to be here a while; her blood pressure remains unsteady with almost little to no improvement and despite the ultrasound showing that the babies are fine, her OB is concerned about the slight bit of bleeding and cramping she’s been experiencing and is frantically trying to clear up some OR space to perform the operation ahead of time.

Right now it’s all a waiting game. It’s an extremely touch and go situation and it feels as if there’s no possible end in site for the string of complications that our babies are constantly up against. Things are started to get easier to deal with; we’d managed to put all of our fears and our worries onto the back burner and we’d allowed ourselves to relax to the point where we cracked jokes about Em’s baby belly and we’ve discussed possible names -there’s a list currently taped to the fridge that contains ten boy names and ten girl names and we’re adding to it daily- and we’re making long term plans when it comes to decorating the nursery. We’ve even allowed ourselves to fantasy about what our twins are going to look like and what possible careers they’re going to have when they grow up. We’ve actually started feeling like prospective parents and we’ve gotten excited and anxious over even the littlest of things.

And now this.

“Wake up, sleepy head,” Peyton whispers, and tousles my hair affectionately before playfully drawing my sweatshirt’s head over the top of my head and eyes.

Tanger had brought over a change of clothes after the game -a pair of Pens sweatpants and matching hoodie that he’d found in my stall and had asked one of the locker room attendants to launder before bringing them to me- and I’d been able to have a shower and get rid of the stench of sweat and nasty hockey equipment clinging to my body. If it wasn’t for the extreme exhaustion plaguing me, the constant sick stomach from incessant worrying and the horrendous ache inhabiting my entire lower jaw, I’d feel almost human again.

“Rise and shine,” she gives me a face wash with her palm through the fabric of my sweater and then yanks the hood back down. “It’s almost seven thirty in the morning,” she adds, as I glance down at my left wrist only to remember I’d left my watch -and almost every other personal possession including car and house keys, wallet and cell phone- at the arena.

“What are you doing here so early?” I ask, yawning noisily and giving a massive stretch that cracks my back and my shoulders.

“I have to be at the ball park for an eight thirty meeting so I thought I’d swing by here and see how things are going first,” she peels the blanket away from my body, shakes out the wrinkles and then neatly folds in half and drapes it over the back of the chair. “Kris and I have been up all night worrying about you guys. And the babies.”

“More like you keep Tanger up all night because you were worried,” I chide, and placing my elbows on my knees, run my hands over my weary face and through my hair. “It was a long night,” I murmur, as I briefly massage the base of my skull before entwining my fingers together and laying my hands at the nape of my neck. “Very long night.”

“Kris is out in the hall if you want to go and grab a coffee with him,” she suggests, as she rubs the space between my shoulders in a slow, soothing circle. “It’ll wake you up. No harm in going downstairs to the cafeteria and grabbing a coffee and some breakfast. I can stay here with Em until you get back. I’m sure she won’t mind if you take off for a little while. Besides…” she scratches her nails against the bottom of my hairline. “…once she wakes her lazy butt up, I’ve got some juicy Icky Erin gossip to share and it’s killing me having to hold onto it.”

“One day I’d like to be a fly on the wall just to know what you two are saying about me behind my back,” I grin, and curling an arm around her waist, yank her into my lap.

There’s nothing remotely intimate or even slightly affectionate about my actions; Peyton’s like a sister to me and she’s irreplaceable in Emma-Leigh’s life. And she’s one of the reasons I was able to get through the long and lonely months while Em had been in treatment in Montreal and I’d been stuck in Pittsburgh. Peyton loves her just as much as I do and she’d been the one who’d stopped me several times from having Em released early from treatment because of my own selfish reasons. “This is what she needs Max,” she’d insisted. “She needs to be there. She needs to get healthy. For herself and for you.”

“Trust me, everything Em ever says about you is good,” Peyton assures me. “Extremely perverted and disturbing every now and then, but entirely positive. Although she did tell me about you once tried to put up Christmas lights with a staple gun.”

“That was one time!” I cry. “I only did it once! And I was drunk! Not in my right frame of mind!”

“Intoxication is never an excuse for stupidity,” Peyton informs me, and curls an arm around my neck and lays her cheek on my shoulder. “Although men do seem to use the ‘I was wasted’ line every time they do something incredibly moronic. I don’t know what Kris’ excuse is. He does stupid shit all the time yet barely touches alcohol.”

“Maybe he’s just constantly drunk on love for you Goldilocks,” I tease. “Maybe he’s just so in love with you he can’t think straight.”

“Maybe…” I can feel her smile against the side of my neck. “…I think that’s the problem with the both of you. A girl gets a hold of your balls real good and you can’t think straight ever again. Do you even know if you what end is up with Em half the time? Do you spend your life constantly wondering if you’re coming or going with her?”

“She keeps me on my toes,” I confirm.

“Now that’s just a really polite way of saying she runs both you and the household,” Peyton chides. “Admit it, Max. You’re whipped and there’s not a goddamn thing you can do about it. Deep down you probably actually enjoy it. You’re so used to having women throw themselves at you and you’re so used to be in control of every single situation that you get off on having little Emma-Leigh boss you around. It’s totally different to you. A completely foreign concept that a woman can rule the roost. You probably love every minute of it.”

“What kind of delusional world are you living in, Mrs Letang?”

“I don’t expect you to admit to it,” she pats me on the knee and lifts her head from my shoulder. “I don’t expect you to have the stones to come clean about it. But just know that I’m onto you. I am fully aware that you love having pip squeak over there…” she nods in the direction of the hospital bed where my wife sleeps peacefully on her left hand side; a protective hand resting on her baby bump and a content smile curving her lips. It’s a far cry from how she’d been a mere two hours ago when she’d woken up from yet another nightmare revolving around her uncle. Nothing amount of comforting or cuddling or talking her out of her panicked, terrified state had done any good and the nurse had been forced to give her a mild sedative. She’s been sleeping ever since. “…boss you around. You just love her having a firm handle on your balls.”

“In the most literal sense maybe,” I laugh, as Peyton wrinkles her nose in disgust. “She can do whatever she wants to my balls and my junk if we’re talking literally. But I wear the pants in the family. Don’t ever forget that.”

“Now who’s delusional?” she asks. “Now who’s living in a fantasy world? Max, you don’t have to be Mister Nice Guy around me. I am fully aware that Lee-Lee is an insufferable bitch sometimes.”

“She can be,” I admit. “But I wouldn’t give her up for anything or anyone else in the world.”

Peyton smiles and presses a kiss to my cheek. “What did the doctors say?” she inquires, concern clouding her eyes and stripping away any ounce of playfulness. “Is she okay? Are the babies okay? What…?”

“The babies are fine. For now, anyway. If they don’t get a handle on her blood pressure and she develops pre-eclampsia…” I allow my voice to trail off.

“But they’re giving her meds, right? They’re trying to get things under control?”

“They’re trying but nothing seems to be working yet. But these things take time…” I give her shoulder a comforting squeeze. “…what’s that saying? Rome wasn’t built in a day? They’re taking good care of her, Peyton. She’s in good hands here. It’s the best possible place for her. And for the babies.”

“Normally I’m the one that’s trying to calm you down and reassure you,” she muses. “I kind of like this new mature Max Talbot.”

“They’re going to do the operation as soon as possible,” I tell her. “Within the next few days. They’re also going to sew her cervix closed. Apparently it’s starting to open or it’s weakening or some shit like that. So Em’s going to be here for a while. Couple of weeks. Maybe more. She’s really sick Peyton. And if she gets any worse…”

“She’ll be fine,” my wife’s best friend flashes a reassuring -and somewhat shaky- smile. “She’s a tough little shit. The doctors will get everything under control and she’ll be as good as new in no time. Everything’s going to be fine, Max. Em and the babies are going to be okay. Just have some faith, okay? Just trust that everything happens for a reason and that all this struggling and this worrying is going to be so far behind you in a few months when you hold those little babies in your arms for the first time. They’ll make it all worth it.”

“I’m trying to be positive,” I say, as I struggle to hold back any shred of emotion that causes tears to well in my eyes and a painful, immovable lump to form in my throat. “I’m trying to think about good things. But it seems like it’s all bad all the time. Like there’s this fucking black cloud hanging over us and we can’t get out from under it no matter how hard we try. It just keeps following us around, you know? It just won’t leave us alone.”

“It will,” Peyton promises, and then attempts another cheerful, reassuring smile before patting me on the thigh and sitting up. “Why don’t you go and grab a coffee and some breakfast with Kris? He’s probably out there in the hallway wondering what the hell is taking you so long. We stopped by the house and got you enough clothes to last a few days. Kris said once he drops me off at work he’ll swing by and grab the puppies and take them to our place. We don’t mind babysitting.

“I should call my parents and…”

“Already done,” she chirps. “I already called them and they’re catching an eleven am flight out of Montreal and they said they’d come straight here to check on things before heading to the house.”

“You really are extremely well organized,” I grin.

“I like to keep things running like a well oiled machine,” she reasons with a shrug. “I hate disorder and chaos. It just drives me insane. Not to mention I wanted to make things are easy on you as possible. I didn’t want you having all these other worries piled on top of the ones you already have.”

“Thank you…” I press a kiss to her cheek. “…you’re a god send.”

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for Em. For both of you. And I know I wasn’t the biggest supporter of the two of you getting together and that I may have been a little…I don’t know…outspoken…when it came to the two of you getting married…”

“You told her that she was making a massive mistake. That if she went through with it in a couple of months she’d regret it and not know how to get out of it. You told her that marrying me so quickly made it look like I was just a rebound so soon after Sid and that…”

“I was just worried about her, Max. It wasn’t anything personal against you. I just thought that maybe she wasn’t thinking things through. She’d been so sick and under so much pressure and stress and I thought that maybe she’d fallen in love with the idea of spending the rest of her life with someone. Especially someone that had busted their ass to get her the help she needed. I didn’t want her doing something like that because she felt some sense of obligation to ‘repay’ you for what you’d done to her. It was all about her and her mental well being and nothing at all to do with you.”

“I wouldn’t have taken advantage of her like that,” I object. “If she’d been weak or vulnerable or I thought that she wasn’t capable of making a decision like that, I never would have asked her to marry me. I asked her because I love her and I couldn’t imagine living my life without her. And if I thought for one second she’d only said yes because she felt she ‘owed’ me something…”

“She loves you,” Peyton interjects. “I see it in her eyes every time she looks at you. I see the way her entire face lights up the second you even walk into the room. You’re her everything, Max. And when I saw the way she was with you at the ceremony…the way she was genuinely happy….I realized that she was doing the right thing. But don’t fault me for caring about her or for worrying about her. I just wanted what’s best for her. That’s all I want now.”

“I am what’s best for her,” I confidently declare.

“Whoa…easy with the ego there,” she laughs, and ruffles my hair. “I like to think that you’re both what’s best for each other. Now…” she slides off my lap and yawns and stretches as she stands up. “…go and keep my husband company, would you? Go and get yourself a strong cup of coffee and something to eat. You’re no good to Lee-Lee or those babies if you’re a zombie. Taking care of yourself is the best way to take care of her and your twins.”

I nod in agreement and running my hands over my face one more time, stand up as well.

*********

“Have you heard from her parents at all?” I inquire, as I slide my feet into a pair of flip flops next to the bed before laying a hand on the top of my wife’s head and leaning over her sleeping form to press a kiss to her forehead.

“Not a word,” Peyton replies, as she perches herself on the end of the bed. “I think they know better than to call me after everything that went down. I don’t hide the fact that I’m not big fans of theirs and they don’t hide the fact that they think I’m a raging bitch. Oh well…” she shrugs. “…no loss on my part. Did you put them on that list at nurses’ station? The one about who is and who isn’t allowed to see her?”

“Only two names that are one the ‘do not allow’ side,” I say. “Other than her uncle. Do you know anything about him, Peyton? Apparently he’s some old family friend that the kids have always referred to as their uncle and…”

“His name is William Scott,” she confirms. “Tyler used to talk about him all the time. Well not really talk about him. He used to…” she clears her throat uncomfortably and lowers her voice. “…he used to tell me some pretty creepy things about the guy. About how he was this well respected and well known leader with the boy scouts and how he coached little league baseball and girls soccer. Apparently one time, Tyler was over at his place and was snooping around and found porn in this guy’s desk. Child porn to be exact. He says after that he stayed as far away from the uncle as possible. Apparently he was around Em a lot though. Tyler used to worry that the uncle was doing something to her but seeing as she never said anything about it…”

“He molested her,” the words and the reality of what had happened to Em immediately turn my stomach and Peyton gasps and lays a hand over her mouth. “It started when she was six. I don’t know how long it went on for or how many times it happened. I just know that it did.”

“Jesus…” tears sparkle in her eyes. “…Max…are you serious? Are you sure about this? You can’t just go saying things like that. You can’t just accuse people of things like that. You need to have proof and…”

“Em told me it happened. That’s all the proof I need. She wouldn’t lie about something like that, Peyton.”

“What are you going to do? You’re not going to do anything stupid are you? You’re not going to confront him or…?”

“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” I admit. “I just know that I should do something.”

“But what good is that going to do? What good is digging up old bones going to do? Isn’t Em going through enough? Doesn’t she have enough on her plate already? Why would you want to bring all this out in the open? Why would you want to make things worse for her?”

“He deserves to pay. He deserves to pay for what he did to her. How many other kids might be out there? I doubt she was the only one. How can you think that’s okay? How can you think it’s alright for him to never get caught for what he did?”

“Then call the cops and tell them about it, Max. Don’t take matters into your own hands. That’s not the way to handle this. You confronting him and tearing him another asshole isn’t going to solve a damn thing. It’s only going to make things worse. You want him to pay? Call the police. It’s as simple as that.”

“He deserves worse,” I insist. “He deserves more than just sitting in jail and getting three square meals a day. It’s sick, Peyton. It’s sick and twisted and he deserves to be shot and pissed on. I’m having kids. Kids that he might one day be around. What do I do? Sit back and wait for him to do something to them?”

“You call the authorities and tell them everything you now,” she remains adamant. “Don’t do something stupid. Handle it the right way. You owe that to Em. And to your babies.”

“I suppose,” I sigh heavily and lean down to press a kiss to my wife’s stomach.

“Promise me you won’t do anything stupid,” Peyton pleads, as I head for the door.

“I promise,” I assure her, and give her a comfortingly smile before slipping out into the hall.