The Man Who Can't Be Moved

A mixture of Staalsy’s deep chuckle and Audrey’s childish giggle tear me from the midst of a restless troubled sleep. I hadn’t objected to him sneaking his girl into our room right under the nose of Disco Dan whose staying directly across the hall -and most likely pulling an all nighter with the rest of the coaching staff as they religiously study video footage of the Red Wings in order to discover the teams’ weaknesses- and I’d certainly never rat on him or tell his girl to get the fuck out. I personally don’t give a shit what the guys; I’m not anal when it comes to the rules and I don’t think twice about breaking them myself every once in a while. But the least they could fucking do is keep their goddamn clothes on while someone else is a mere few feet away. I’ve done a lot of sick and twisted and extremely questionable shit in my time, but I’ve never had the nerve to knock boots while one of my buddies is in the same room. I may not exactly be the poster boy for decent behaviour and there may be times when my morals could be seriously called into question, but I have never, and will never, disrespect a friend -whether he’s sleeping or not- by getting busy right in front of him. Everyone has boundaries; we all draw the line somewhere. And this is where I have to draw mine.

With an irritated growl. I lift my face from my pillow and glance over at the queen sized bed a mere arm’s distance away; the shards of moonlight streaming through the window illuminating the sighing, moaning and writhing figures buried under the hotel provided comforter. Now I’m the farthest a person can get from being prude and I’ve got an extremely healthy sexual appetite and there’s not much I shy away from trying at least once, but there thought of Staalsy doing the dirty in such a close proximity literally turns my stomach.

“Do you two honestly fucking mind?” I snarl, and snagging a half empty bottle of water off the nightstand, hurl it in towards the amorous couple and then smirk in satisfaction when it catches Staalsy off the back of the bed and he gives a yelp of surprise and pain and then mutters a litany of profanities. “What the fuck is wrong with you two?” I inquire, as my teammates messy strawberry blond hair finally emerges from underneath the blanket. “Right while I’m in the room? For real?”

“We thought you were sleeping,” Staalsy breathlessly reasons.

“And that makes it better? That makes it okay for you to have sex just a couple feet away from me? I know I’ve done some questionable, gross shit in my time, but this?” I nod in the direction of his bed. “This is way more disgusting than anything I’ve ever put any of my friends through.”

“Since when did you become a prude, Superstar? When did you suddenly develop morals and decency? Just because you got married and committed yourself to one woman doesn’t mean you don’t still have a pretty shady past. Having a wife doesn’t make your old reputation disappear.”

“I’m going to make that goddamn shit eating smirk disappear in a second,” I threaten. “You two wanna knock boots? Go and get a room all your own. Show some fucking respect. Do you see me getting busy right in front of you? Have you ever known me to do anything like that in my previous life? Did I ever do you dirt like that? With any of the women I’ve ever been with?”

“You need to get laid,” Staalsy declares. “You’re way too anal about shit lately. If your wife was still able to put out…”

“One wrong word about my wife and you won’t be getting laid ever again,” I warn. “You won’t even make it to game seven. Can’t you two just fuck off and do that somewhere else? Somewhere outside of this room?”

“Why don’t you just go roll over and ignore us,” he suggests. “Just turn over and face the window and listen to your iPod so you don’t hear anything. ‘Cause we’re kind of in the middle of things here and it’s not like I can just stop and…”

“You’re a fucking asshole,” I fume, and then flop over onto my back and shove the covers off my body. “I can’t believe that you’d do something like that with someone else in the room,” I grumble, as I scramble out of bed and rummage through one of my suitcases laying open in front of the balcony doors in an attempt to locate a pair of sweats and a t-shirt to slip into. “And I can’t believe she…” I jerk my head in Audrey’s direction. “…would even go along with your sick and twisted shit.”

“Nothing more sick and twisted about some of your wife’s little quirks,” Staalsy bravely retorts. “You’re the one that she’s into some pretty freaky stuff. That she let both you and Sid…”

Frowning, I yank on my clothes and snatching the bucket of ice -most of it has long melted yet there’s still several chunks floating around in the water left behind- off the top of the nearby dresser, stomp over to my teammate’s bed and then rip the blanket off not only his naked body but that of his girlfriend’s before proceeding to dump the entire contents of the container on both of them.

“Fuck both of you!” I bellow, as I toss the empty container aside and ignore Staalsy’s threats and his profanities and Audrey’s shrieking and babbling about all of the hurt she’s going to inflict on me when she manage to get a hold of m as I stomp away.

Shoving my feet into a pair of flip flops I’d left earlier by the door, I grab my key card out of one of the pockets on the pair of jeans I’d worn during the day and then storm out of the room, allowing the door to slam noisily behind me as I hurry for the stairwell at the end of the hall. I’m not even going to bother waiting for an elevator; my luck clearly indicates that it would be running exceptionally slow and that I’d be busted by Disco Dan and he’d force me back into my own room which in turn would only lead to me having no choice but to rat on Staalsy.

And as disgusted as I am that he’d been having sex with his girlfriend while I was only a couple feet away, I won’t lower myself to being a snitch.

********

Taking the stairs two at a time, I reach the twelfth floor and then toss open the door and hurry down the hall towards room 1202. The entire floor is eerily silent; no sounds of televisions or radios playing, no muted conversations or the rustle of clothing from within the suites. I almost feel guilty for being here; for resorting to waking the sleeping occupants not only in the room that I’m planning on visiting, but in the surrounding ones as well. My insistent knocking seems to reverberate off the walls and appears a hundred times louder than it actually is and I anxiously rock back and forth on my heels and pray that I don’t draw the ire of other hotel guests; I can hear curious and annoyed whispers and the sound of the coverings on peepholes being drawn across the curious check to see who it is that has the nerve to disturb the entire floor.

“Hold on!” my wife’s aggravated voice finally emerges from the other side of the door, along with the shuffling of her feet. “Keep your fucking pants on, Helga! This wouldn’t be happening if you remembered to take your damn key!”

“Hurry up, Emma-Leigh!” my voice is just above a whisper. “I know that you’re not exactly moving at the same speed as you were seven months ago, but haul ass before I get caught even coming up here!”

“You be nice or you can stay out there all night,” she warns, and then heaves an exhausted, irritated sigh and slides the chain across the door before yanking it open. “What are you doing here?” she asks, as I press a chaste kiss in greeting to her lips before slipping into her suite. “Isn’t this against the rules? Aren’t you supposed to be under lockdown in your own room?”

“Do you really think that half the guys are following any of ‘the rules‘?” Sid’s probably the only guy that is following them. You really think any of the others are actually going to listen to management tell them they can’t leave their room after ten and that they can’t have sex?”

“If you’ve come here for that, you might as well go back to where you came from,” she grumbles as she shuts the door behind us.

“I didn’t come here to have sex. Or anything remotely related to it,” I assure her, as I slip my feet out of my flip flops. “I came here because Staalsy and Audrey are having sex in our room and I don’t want to have to listen to that shit. Everyone’s got a certain place where they draw the line, you know? Well that’s where I draw mine. Where’s Helga? How come she’s not glued to your hip? That’s what I pay her to do.”

“Helga is blissfully MIA,” Em says, and I gently take her face in my hands and kiss her in earnest before drawing her into a tight hug. Well, as tight as can be considering she looks as if she’s shoved the equivalent of two watermelons up the front of her top. She’s fresh faced and breathtakingly beautiful; she’s clad in a pair of pink, black and purple satin pyjamas, a headband holds her hair off of her forehead and away from her face and she smells like her favourite strawberry and vanilla shampoo. “She went out with your mom a few hours ago,” she explains, as she wraps her arms around my waist and I press my lips against her temple and inhale her scent. “Your dad says they’re down in the hotel bar doing karaoke and getting shit faced with a bunch of out of town hockey fans.”

“Who’s been keeping an eye on you?”

“I don’t need a fucking babysitter!” she huffs, and brings both of her hands down on my ass in vicious, ringing slaps. “Stop treating me like I’m some kind of invalid! I’m pregnant! Not dying!”

“Slap my ass like that again and you’re going to need someone to pry me off of you,” I tease. “That whole ‘no sex’ thing will go right out the window if you keep doing shit like that.”

“You can go back and watch Jordy knock boots if you’re in that kind of a mood,” she mutters, and then allows me to press a final kiss to her cheek before pulling away from me. “And I seriously don’t need someone watching over me twenty-four seven. Why you ever hired her in the first place…”

“I hired her to keep an eye on you. She’s a nurse, Emmy-Lou. She looks after women who are with child. It’s what she does. She’s used to taking care of ones with high risk pregnancies and lots of complications and she’s even delivered her fair share ‘cause shit went down too quick for them to get the hospital. I’m paying her to look after you.”

“You’re paying her to stalk me is more like it,” my wife grumbles, and I follow her into the living room area of the suite. “She never leaves me alone, Max. And she’s constantly on my ass about how much weight I’ve put on and what I eat and she’s always going on and on about how she’s going to ‘whip me back into shape’ after the babies are born. It’s like she thinks she’s got some long term employment or something.”

“Actually, I may have mentioned it to her that I wouldn’t mind her stick around for a while,” I sheepishly admit.

“A while?” Em’s eyes narrow. “How long is that?”

“I might have told her that she’d have a steady job until at least the beginning of the New Year,” I offer an apologetic smile as she glares at me. “I just thought that it would be nice for you to have someone around that knows what’s going on when it comes to taking care of kids. We both know absolutely nothing, right? We’re both completely clueless when it comes to babies? I just figured that it would be good to have someone around that can help out. Keep an eye on you and the boys when I’m on the road.”

“She’s a goddamn RN, not a bodyguard or a personal assistant,” Em retorts, as she gingerly lowers herself down onto the couch. “Do you really think that I’m going to be totally useless as a mother? That I’m going to be suck a fuck up that I’ll need someone to watch my every move?”

“No…but…” I plop down alongside of her and prop my feet on the cluttered coffee table. “…I figured it would be nice to have her around to help out a bit. We’re not just having one baby, Em. There’s two of them in there. And one is enough for most first time moms to handle, non?” I reach across my body and lay my hand on her stomach. “And I figured it would be good to have her around in case your illness ever reared its ugly head. So that you don’t get too stressed out and worked up while you’re going through one of your moods.”

“You mean so I don’t do something stupid to myself or the babies while I’m in one of moods,” she concludes. “You really think I’d ever do something like that? That I’d ever skip my meds or go off them entirely and become so unhinged that I hurt myself or our kids? I can’t believe you’d think something like that. That you’d…”

“You’re reading way too much into what I’m saying,” I say, and lean in to press a kiss to her temple. “I’d never, ever think something like that. I just thought that if you ever got as sick again like you were before, the last thing you’d be able to do is look after two babies. And I figured seeing as I already hired Helga to look after you while you were pregnant and we already made her part of our lives, I might as well go with what’s comfortable and keep her around. I was just thinking about helping you out. About what was best for you and the boys.”

“I love how you just spring this kind of shit on me,” she sighs, and logs off her lap top and snaps the lid closed. “I love how you just go ahead and make important decisions all by yourself and then try to pass them off like they’re no big deal when you do get around to telling me.”

“It was supposed to be a surprise. I was going to tell you after the babies were born. ‘Cause I thought you’d actually be happy to have the help.”

“I already told you how I feel about nannies. If I’m going to be a stay at home for the first few years like we talked about, I don’t need a stranger raising them. You know how I don’t like the whole idea of hired help. I’m not going to be one of those housewives that do nothing but sit on their ass all day watching soap operas or out getting pedis and manis and spending their husband’s money. That isn’t me.”

“Good thing too,” I grin. “’Cause I don’t make that much cash to begin with and we’d be homeless within six months.”

“I’m being serious here,” she mutters.

“So am I. I can’t afford for you to be one of those housewives. And honestly? Even if I could? I’m glad you don’t want to be. And as far as Helga goes…”

“You should have talked to me before you told her she could stick around. Why do you always do that, Max? Make decisions that involve both of us without talking to me first?”

“I don’t know…” I shrug. “…probably because I’ve never had to make decisions for anyone else other than me. This marriage thing is still new to me, remember? I’m still learning as I go along. And then you go and throw fatherhood at me, too? How many times have I told you that I’m not good at multitasking?”

“Well you better get used to multitasking,” she yawns noisily and lays her head on my chest. “Because you’re going to be doing a hell of a lot of it in a few weeks. If you can’t handle being a newlywed mixed in with impending fatherhood, how are you going to be able to cope when there’s two babies freaking out at the same time? When one is crying because he wants something to eat and the other wants his diaper changed?”

“That’s what I hired Helga for. To do all that for me,” I chide, and then wince when she grabs a hold of a handful of chest hair through my t-shirt and yanks aggressively. “I’m kidding…just kidding…no need to go all abusive on me…I’ll be just fine, Em. Don’t you worry about me. I’ll put you to shame with my parenting skills. I’m going to be a natural. You’ll be thanking your lucky stars that you found such a perfect, amazing baby daddy.”

“Right, Max…whatever you say…” she gives a derisive snort and rolls her eyes. “And before you freak out over me being up this late, I’m having some serious insomnia the last few nights and the pressure in my lower back is beyond intense.”

“Still think you should get checked out for that. I still think that…”

“I think you’re making too much of a big deal over nothing,” she concludes, and then slips her hand up the front of my t-shirt and rests her hand in the middle of my chest.

“You need sleep,” I inform her, dropping a kiss on the top of her head and curling an arm around her shoulders.

“So do you. You’re the one that’s playing in game seven of the Stanley Cup Finals tomorrow night.”

“Honestly, babe? I’m too jacked to sleep. I’m too nervous and excited. All I can think about is how fucking bad I want to win tomorrow. So bad I can fucking taste it. And then I think about how much it sucked last year when we got so close and Detroit shit all over our parade. Losing stinks. Legit stinks. And I don’t want to go through that again. I don’t want to see my boys go through it again.”

“I have faith,” she confidently announces. “Huge faith. I believe. With every single fibre of my being. But would it be too much to ask for you to score a goal? For me and the babies?”

“Would it be too much for me to ask to be the hero?” I counter, as I rest the side of my face on the top of her head.

“I expect nothing less from an attention whore like you,” she laughs. “And you know what? I really want that for you. I want you to have that moment.”

Smiling into her hair, I close my eyes and lose myself in her soft, intoxicating scent and the comforting warmth that radiates from her body.

Whatever happens tomorrow, whatever the outcome, I’m just glad that she’ll be with me for the entire ride.