You're My Schennshine

It’s weird…how things can happen in the blink of an eye. How fast things can go from perfect, to a disaster…completely normal…and chaos. I didn’t see it…I didn’t know what happened…until it was plastered up on the big screen. Until he was face down on the ice, not moving. Until he didn’t get up. Until they called in the stretcher.

I hated the Montreal Canadians. Any truly blue blooded Toronto Maple leafs fan did. And standing in the club booth with other wives and girlfriends of the team sat to watch the game, catered by the team. I was usually a girl who sat in the stands…but when it was high stakes like this, I would sit in the booth just so someone who wasn’t in with the boys could have my seat. He said he loved that kind of kindness in me…

He was on an ambulance to a hospital now…His name was Luke Schenn.

It replayed in my mind…the Leafs had the Canadiens hemmed in their own end. It was a situation no one expected the team that went to the Eastern Conference Final the season before would find themselves in; trapped in their own end with sustained pressure. It was a bit like war in the Leafs’ brutality, chipping down low; with lots of pressure from Phil and Tyler…Luke and Mike were constantly throwing hard and heavy bombs right at the net. You could hear bodies smashing into the boards, the harsh ‘ping’ of the puck ringing off the post and the frustrated roar of the crowd.

To be honest, it sounded almost as much sex as it did a war zone. The crowd was screaming ‘oh’ every few moments, arching up and jumping excitedly from their seats. Occasionally you’d hear an ‘oh god’…a lot of demands to shoot the fucking puck…a lot of moments where you could plug in a ‘that’s what she said.’ It was war…and it was sex…it was unmatched intensity.

In a final gasp, after a minute or so of the onslaught, the Canadiens managed to flip the puck out of the zone. When it kept going…the race to the red line started. Luke turned on a dime, crossing over and plunging each edge into the ice, hard strikes pushing him so hard, you could almost hear the very sound of each sheer of ice under the pressure over the roar of the crowd. Desperation fell over the Montreal squad, realizing their misfortune. They needed the change. Maxim Lapierre raced after him, pushing his oxygen starved body as hard as he could. I didn’t see the impact, I looked at my phone for a stupid moment…but I witnessed the replay.

The whistle rang through the arena as icing was called. Although Lapierre was only behind by a foot or so, they collapsed in the end boards. Luke’s head bounced off the glass, and then twisted, catching the lip of the boards before he hit the ice. The two crumpled in the corner of the rink, Monster was at the edge of the post, slowly moving over to the carnage, watching Maxim rise, but Luke remain laid on the ice. He looked to the bench, starting to scream. My stomach sunk as the trainer came off the bench, Mike was already there, giving him an arm to help him run to his fallen partner.

It moved so fast and so slow at the same time. It seemed that they had the stretcher on the ice in mere moments, stabilizing his head and holding him carefully. They opened the zamboni doors and started pushing him out. It had only been moments, and yet, at the same time, it felt like hours when someone you loved was hurt…someone you loved was in danger. I couldn’t get out of that seat faster. Some of the women tried to apologize, provide their condolences, and make it easier on me. The best thing they could do was get out of my way, and let me get to my car and to my boy. I was shaking, I didn’t think I’d be able to drive, but it’s often that you think you can’t so something, however, when you have to, when someone needs you, you can, in fact, you will.

The drive was a blur of tail lights, traffic and noise. The radio perpetually turned to the local country station, we sometimes argued about where the radio dial was. I was swearing that if he managed to wiggle his little ass out of this one, I’d never argue with him about music again…or anything else. I’d be a perfect girl for him…even if he said I couldn’t be better, I’d be a fucking angel. I was just begging…whatever powers at be…make him pull through…please pull him out of this. He didn’t move…please make him ok.

I didn’t even remember getting to the hospital, but at some point, I did…I couldn’t remember parking or running into the lobby. Whimpering and begging at the front desk, being denied the opportunity to see him until the doctors had him stabilized. That scared me. He wasn’t stable. What did that mean? How could he not be stable? They didn’t tell me anything, just took my name and had me sit in the waiting room, my panic reaching a fever pitch. Seconds ticked by like minutes, and minutes, hours. I couldn’t think of anything other than the worst. He’d snapped his neck…he wouldn’t walk again…he wouldn’t play again. He’d be confined to a wheelchair…I couldn’t take care of him…I wasn’t a registered nurse.

I’d go to college and learn how to for him if he needed it…I’d be there for him…I loved that son of a bitch…

“Cassidy?” I pulled my head out of my hands, snuffling harshly and trying my hardest to avoid wiping my eyes on my jersey. “He’s all set…ready to see you…” The nurse was so delicate in her voice…I nodded, grabbing some tissues and cleaning up. He didn’t need to see me like this. He, of all people, didn’t need to see me like this.

It was a mile long walk that was truly only a few feet. My chest seemed to break and fold in under the pressure of the environment as I walked into the room, seeing him there, looking so small. His pads were stacked in the corner of the room, filling the room with the pungent, yet familiar and almost comforting smell of rancid hockey equipment. It made it seem almost like this wasn’t real…like this was one of his little jokes…a prank. Heavy moments like this never smelled so bad. But there he was, in a cloth robe, his head locked and still in a collar. I could already feel his blue eyes on me…see the way that his short blonde hair, still wet from the game, sticking up oddly from being moved around as he was handled.

“You have helmet hair.” I whimpered, laughing softly, trying not to bring attention to the situation, to my worry and the sadness. I moved to the edge of the bed, one hand instinctively moving to his, the other carefully moving to play with his hair, straightening it out, making him look a little silly. He smiled that goofy, lopsided smile as his eyes met mine. His shoulder twitched and I looked down, seeing his still hand, laying open, while mine clung to his. It killed me to see, clenched my gut and made my head start to pound.

“I don’t think Helmet hair is the worst of it.” He whispered. I almost knew what he wanted by the look on his face, and I leaned down, gently pressing my lips to his. He kissed me, but he didn’t lean into it. He didn’t grab and hold me. Although his lips moved, it felt like the kiss had its own emptiness. “Did they tell you anything?” He asked quietly.

“That you’re ok to see now?” I whimpered, shaking my head. He bit his lip.

“They didn’t tell me much either.” He said softly. “I think it’s bad.”

“They might not know yet baby…” I whispered, still tending to his hair, moving it around, trying to find his part, making it stand up in a way that only he could…a weird messy, yet made up way. “It could just be…something…little.”

“I can’t feel your hand…I can’t feel my toes.” He whispered. “They won’t move when I tell them to…nothing…” He said softly. His bright blue eyes were misted with a deep darkness…a nervousness that I didn’t see even before a big game. I’d never seen this uneasiness.

“Don’t…don’t get scared…” I whispered. “Don’t think the worst….it’ll be ok.” I promised him, cupping his cheek in my hand, knowing he’d feel that. “Just…be positive baby.”

“I’m trying.” He whispered, eyes flipping down, and then up. “How are the guys doing? Are we doing ok?” He asked suddenly, changing the subject.

“I don’t know…the radio was set to your country shit.” I laughed softly, pulling up a chair next to him.

“You could have changed it.” He laughed. I shook my head, grabbing my phone, checking the text updates. “We’re up by 2.” I reported. He rolled his eyes

“I might never walk again and I’m worried about my team…” He sighed. “What if I never play again?” He asked quietly, looking down. “I love playing….I love it…” He looked at me then. “What If I can never play again?” His eyes were slowly turning to a blue mush…tears welling up…I bit my quivering lip, leaning over and pressing my forehead to his.

“Don’t think that way.” I whispered. “Please…be positive Luke…because I’m having problems…you’re my Schennshine.” I smiled sadly. “It’s gonna be ok…I promise…”

“Schennshine.” He whispered. “I shouldn’t have had my head down…I should have gotten out of the way…I was tired and didn’t think…”

“It wasn’t your fault baby…” I whispered, messing up his hair again as I tried to comfort him, stroking through his hair. “You didn’t do anything wrong…”

“I should have moved.”

“You didn’t think he would get there that fast…he was far behind you baby.”

“He was racing me for a fucking icing! He was tired and desperate.” He snapped. “I should have known better.” I frowned, knowing I wouldn’t be able to say anything. I swallowed around the lump in my throat, closing my eyes and just breathing, my forehead pressed to his, taking in the heat off his body…the smell of sweat…equipment…letting him encompass me.

“I’ll always be with you.” I whispered, opening my eyes and meeting his again, seeing the moisture that’d started to fall from the corners of his eyes, coursing over his cheeks. I bit my lip, using my jersey pulled over my thumb to wipe them away. “I’ll never leave…for better or worse.”

“That’s a wedding vow.” He whimpered, snuffling. I pulled away, looking for a box of tissues. I pulled one out of the box, holding it to his nose. He looked at me with a little bit of a confused face.

“Blow.” I told him. He looked horrified, before he realized it would all end up over his upper lip. He settled and let me hold his tissue for him. “Exactly Schennshine…I love you…and I’m not gonna leave you…I promise you that.” He looked at me again, watching me with those piercing blues.

“I love you too.” He whispered. I smiled, pressing my forehead to his again, kissing his brow before sitting next to him, holding his limp hand again. This was gonna be a journey…but I was prepared to go for him.