I Will Possess Your Heart

“Remember everyone, the best way to keep your buddy calm today is to lead by example,” Joyce, the sixty-something ray of sunshine explained to the employees and faithful volunteers of the Happy Hearts Foundation for Special Kids, “So, please pick up an information sheet at the back of the room on your way out, and we’d ask that you please sign the consent form at the front desk if you did not already do so on your way in this morning. Thanks again for coming a few minutes early on this special day. None of this would be possible without your help, and I hope you all enjoy yourselves…”

For almost 2 years I had been a regular volunteer at Happy Hearts, a non profit organization which provided assistance to families with children who has special needs or developmental disabilities. Once a year the children of Happy Hearts were lucky enough to be visited by the Pittsburgh Penguins, and this year I was lucky enough to take part in the festivities.

“So, I’m just saying,” My best friend Paige, who I had recruited a few months earlier to fill a space in the kitchen turned to me. The other workers and volunteers were already filing out of the room, “If you meet Kris Letang…”

“I can’t ask him for an autograph,” I said as I sipped my coffee, scanning the info sheet I’d picked up on the way in, “It’s against the rules. Sorry.”

“Autograph?” She snorted at me, tipping her head back to laugh, then stopping abruptly, “Ha, no. You get me that boy’s phone number.”

“Let’s see. No asking for pictures, no autographs, or asking for hugs. No excessive fawning or marriage proposals, there goes that idea…” I smirked up at her from the page, “You’re in luck. There’s no rule against that.”

“Awesome!” She fist pumped, giggling, “I wonder if he’s even actually single.”

“I wonder if it even actually matters.” I made a little face, “Who knows what these guys are really like?”

“They’re gorgeous, what more do you need to know?” She wondered with another little laugh pushing away from the back wall of the conference room, “I guess I should go do my job. Grilled cheese and homemade chicken noodle soup for lunch today. You should stick around.”

“I might,” I thought as she squished my cheeks, “Will you slip bacon in one of the grilled cheese sandwiches for me?”

“A grilled bacon and cheese sandwich for Kris Letang’s phone number?” She paused in thought then nodded, “Yes. That sounds fair. Have a great day.”

Paige let go of my face, and left me standing at the back of the mostly empty room, tying back her dark hair and humming to herself as she went. The girl was an artist in every way. Aside from her natural culinary skills, which were hardly appreciated in the cafeteria style kitchen of our facility, music was her life. There was always a melody under construction in and often outside of her head. The apartment we shared together above her mothers flower shop, where we both also worked, had instruments and music equipment in every corner.

When Paige wasn’t writing and recording beautiful songs in the living room or whipping up some new and exciting dish in for me to try, she was arranging colourful bouquets of flowers downstairs - bouquets that it was my job to deliver all over the city and surrounding area. She also had an eye for fashion, and I swore up and down that if I didn’t have her around to dress me, I would have already been the target for and episode of What Not to Wear.

Draining the last of my coffee into my mouth, I tossed my cup into the garbage can beside the door. I had already signed the consent form giving the Pittsburgh Penguins organization permission to use me in any film footage taken that day, so I went straight up to the playroom, where several children had already arrived.

“Lucy!” I heard the familiar shriek followed by quickened footsteps and before I could even turn around, two little arms flew around my waist, “Hi, Lucy!”

“Hi, Sadie!” I had to giggle, squeezing the little angel back, “How are you this morning, sweetheart?”

“Good,” She beamed up at me, her chin resting on my stomach as I pet her head, “How are you?”

“I’m wonderful,” I promised her, “Thank you for asking.”

Every Saturday morning for months, we had gone through the very same routine. On some of those mornings, the promise of an ecstatic squeal followed by one of the most genuine hugs I would receive all week was the only thing that inspired me not to turn off my alarm clock and go back to bed.

“My mom cut my hair yesterday,” She informed me with her slightly laboured speech and I knelt down to study her carefully, finally giving a satisfied nod.

“You look beautiful, Sadie,” I touched the chubby cheeks of her smiling face, “Absolutely beautiful.”

In actuality, her dirty blonde hair looked almost exactly the same as it had the week before, hanging limp around her shoulders, only now and inch or two shorter and her straight across bangs were slightly crooked. Not even the worst at-home haircut could have made her anything less than beautiful, though.

I had known Sadie for almost a year. After 8 months of volunteering behind the scenes at Happy Hearts as a dishwasher, a cook, a janitor, or anything else they needed on the days I was there, Joyce, the program manager had asked if I would like to become someone’s buddy. At first I was unsure, never having spent any considerable amount of time with special needs children, but moments after meeting Sadie her outgoing nature and the joy that constantly radiated from her had all but blinded me to her Down syndrome. We had been Happy Hearts buddies ever since.

“So does Dustin have a game today or a practice?” I wondered.

“A game,” She replied pulling me up and over to the cubbies with her. She took off her hot pink Hannah Montana backpack and put it away in her own special cubby, “I like Happy Hearts days better than watching him. He’s not very good.”

“Well, maybe with practice he’ll start to get better.” I thought, “But I like Happy Hearts days, too, Sadie.”

Among the services offered by the foundation was dependable one on one daycare, a valuable commodity in the special needs world. Once a week the two of us would spend time together, playing, reading and giving her family a few hours of down time where they could give individual attention to Sadie’s older brother, a nine year old aspiring hockey player.

“Lucy, did you know I get to meet some Pittsburgh Penguins today?” She asked bouncing with excitement and poking one chubby finger at the emblem on the chest of her little jersey.

“Yeah, you know, I think I may have heard something like that…” I teased and she was tugging on my hand.

“I might even be on TV!” She squeaked.

Since Happy Hearts had opened, the Penguins had made annual trips to visit the kids and families involved with the foundation, bringing along with them a sizeable donation each year. It was by far the most exciting day of the year for everyone at Happy Hearts.

As a huge hockey fan myself, I was doing my best not to be nervous. The previous year I had been in the kitchen and only had the pleasure of meeting Bill Guerin. This year, Sadie and I would be right in the madness, spending an hour or so of play time with any one of the team members or coaching staff.

“Now, let me have a look at this,” I turned her around to check out her jersey, “Number 29. Marc-Andre Fleury. Is he your favourite Penguin?”

“Yeah. He’s Dustin’s favourite too,” She nodded grinning, “I love when he dives in front of the puck and stops it, and then we win.”

“I have to tell, you Sadie, I love that, too,” I giggled, “But he’s not my favourite.”

“Who’s your favourite, Lucy?” She wondered as we moved to the reading circle, and sat down together.

“Max Talbot,” I answered, and she started to giggle, “What?”

“He’s my mom’s favourite, too,” She said and wrinkled her nose, “She thinks he’s handsome. Is that why you like him?”

“It sure doesn’t hurt,” I admitted with a shrug.

Sadie had to cover her face with her hands, embarrassed, as only a 7 year old could be over saying the word ‘handsome’ and let herself tip right over, letting out a groan,“Lucy!”