Oh, I Must Be Blind

She’s plaguing my mind. Everything I see, everywhere I go, everything I do, she’s there. It’s like a shadow, memories of her, and with her, constantly lurking on the edge of my mind. Never once while I was growing up did I think she would have this vast of an effect on my life.

When we were younger, she was just the annoying girl next-door; the one who followed me wherever I went, begging to be a part of my games. If the guys and I played a pick-up game of shinny, she would just sit and watch in fascination, content with us ignoring her - so long as it meant that she was allowed to even be there. Eventually, when we would all get tired, and race back to whoever’s house was closest to eat and play video games, she would follow behind with the slowest of us, and sit on the couch, still wanting to just be a part of things; rarely participating. Yet, a small smirk cannot help but to slide on my face when I think about the rare times that she would participate in our small game of hockey, or join in on the gaming - you may not know it to see her, but she always knew what she was doing. She could wipe all of us out no problem, in any video game thrown her way; when it came to shinny, she would opt for playing goalie, and stand on her head before she let one past. Whenever she did something, she did it well, which is why it was no surprise to any of us, when we sat in our chairs for graduation, that she was named Valedictorian, and received the honour of making a speech before us, our friends and our family alike.
Her speech, much like herself, was simple, and to the point. Yet, only one phrase stuck out in my mind: “Wherever you go, whatever you may do, every person here, in some way, big or small, will always be a part of you.” Although she meant this sentence for everyone, and maybe only said it to sound profound, it hit home with me; I knew that, eventually, I’d have the chance to go big, to make it where I’ve been dreaming of being my whole life: a part of the NHL. Going off to University, I still hadn’t realized the hold that this unique girl had over me. From the time we played shinny to the time we graduated, I still found times where she did nothing but annoy me; maybe it was that she was the only girl to stay with us all, through thick and thin, maybe it was that the guys had all accepted her without acknowledging it, or maybe it was that I cared more about her than I had ever bargained for. It was so easy to be the typical boy as a child, to shrug off the annoyances by saying she was a girl, and that bothered me. As we got older, it was easier to say that she was annoying because at some point or another, each of the guys in our group were vying for her attention, sometimes going as far as fighting over her - and when this happened, it was easy to be mad at her; it was easy to pawn off my annoyance as her splitting our group up. But, being where I am now, I find it easier to admit, however begrudgingly, that my annoyance with her stemmed from her never giving me the time of day, no matter how I acted.

Eventually, once at the University of North Dakota, where I began my university level hockey career, I slowly began to accept that she was more important to me than I had ever let on. Yet the only reason I even realized it was because it was weird not to have her in the stands, cheering when I posted another goal, or made a nice play, that she wasn’t there to yell at the referee when he made a bad call against me, but mostly, she wasn’t there to help cheer me up after a loss. It was this last fact, that, more often than not, helped me drink myself into a stupor following tough losses; it was the fact that made me feel better about myself when I searched for contact with other women, knowing that whatever they could, or would, do would help ease the pain that I refused to come to terms with. Up until recent years, I would never have admitted that this girl, Caitlin, had turned my world upside down without knowing, without caring, and before I even could figure out what was happening.

Going home after my first year of University, it is safe to say that I never anticipated what would occur over the next few months. It was easily the best summer of my life, I finally got over what little contention I had with Caitlin, and got to know her better than I ever had previously. I learned that she hated the smattering of freckles across her face, that she wanted glasses, to look smarter, that she loved sports, but especially hockey, because of our childhood, and mostly, that she missed all of the guys, but specifically me, because I never treated her any differently than who she was. In these few months, Caitlin and I had gone from casual friends to being attached at the hip. As this happened, I finally came to terms with what I had been feeling my whole life: that I was wrapped around her finger, that she had gotten under my skin, and that it had happened without my knowledge. Eventually, on June 24, 2006, when I was drafted third overall, by the Chicago Blackhawks, the only people happier and quicker to congratulate me than her were my parents and brother. She was so genuinely excited, that I knew she would be with me forever. That was also the first time that her quote of everyone being a part of where we go ran through my mind, and I found myself happy that she would always be a part of who I was. Thinking about this quote, I also realized that I would do anything for her, that she could call, and I would run to the ends of the earth for her, that I never wanted to be without her, no matter how small the contact we had, if it meant that I could be a part of her too.

Going back to North Dakota, I couldn’t help but feel this year was different, that things would change in one way or another, for the better or worse. At first, it was for the better, we talked on the phone at least once a week, we would email, text, write, anything to keep in contact. If my team played at her school, she would be there, cheering louder than anyone else for me, and coming to the locker rooms after the game, to see me, even if it was just for a minute. After my second year too had finished, I returned to Winnipeg for the summer once more, and prepared for the year to come. The next year, I opted out of my last two years of University hockey, and made the step up to the big leagues. I made sure that she was still a part of who I was, and would give her two tickets for whenever it was that she could come and watch me play, just like when we were younger. When she was there, I would seek her out in the stands, and as soon as I laid my eyes on her, my heart would race, and I would play harder than even I thought I could play. Anything to impress her. A few months into my first season, I realized that when she came to the games, she would come with a man that I had never met, and eventually, I realized that they were together, if the hand-holding, kissing, and whispering were any indicator anyways.

Eventually, the two got married, and I learned that his name was Chris, a man who loved hockey as much as her, who ran his own business, and did everything in his power to make her happy. I was glad that she met him if only in the sense that she had someone who would always be there for her, to make her feel important, for I knew that if we were together, there would be long periods where I would be away. And, although I did not like that it wasn’t me who would lay with her at night, whispering I Love You into her ear, and all the other things she deserved, I was happy for her.

To this day, I still reserve two tickets for her, in case she ever wants to come watch my games. She still haunts me, even though we were never actually together, because I always think of what could have been, what would have been, if I had ever been able to man-up and tell her what it took me ages to figure out; that I loved her, and still do. She has always been a large part of who I am, and will always be in my memories, and, even though I cannot be with her, I will still do anything to be a part of her life. Even if it’s just as her friend. After all, she’s my runaway love, the one that I let get away, the one that I would give it all up for.