The Crosby Life

To say that we were all getting frustrated with the way we were playing was an absolute understatement. We lost, pathetically, to the Lightning on Wednesday and the locker room afterwards was filled with lots of high testosterone levels. Not that I blame any of the guys, I was ready to punch something as well.
We took a practice the next day, which was originally scheduled as a day off, but we needed it. Whatever was wrong with the way we were playing needed to be fixed, now, before the playoffs.
The practice was short, but it was the toughest skating we had been in this season in one practice. My legs felt like jello, but it was a good feeling. Both Geno and Gonch were skating and they announced that they will most likely be back to play the Thrashers on Saturday. Thank God.
The game against the Thrashers was exciting. They kept taking the lead, but every time, we answered back. Of course, the Thrashers can blame themselves. In the second period, they pissed Geno off and on his next shift, he scored a goal. I was on the same ice as him after his goal and I was laughing. “Word of advice, don’t piss our Russians off.” I said to one of the Thrashers as I skated by.
Towards the end of the second, the Thrasher had us caught in our own end. I was where I normally am on the ice, towards the blue line to catch any far rebounds, but as one of my teammates got caught up with a Thrasher, I rushed in to grab a rebound that Marc-Andre saved.
I stick-handled the puck as a Thrasher was standing just in front of me, ready to get the puck away as soon as the chance presented itself. I grinned wickedly and he cocked his head to the side just as I sidestepped, which he followed, and I tossed the puck through his legs towards Jordan.
He looked at me, blinked, and growled as he started to skate away. I started to follow when the player brought his stick up high, as if to toss it over his back, and he nailed me right in the side of the mouth. I dropped to the ice with my face in my hands and I could hear Marc-Andre yelling for play to stop from behind me.
The whistle blew and someone was neck to me. I didn’t move an inch, just held my face in my hands, which were resting on the ice. I could taste the blood in my mouth as I choked back a sob at the searing pain in my mouth.
“Er-bear?” Jordan’s voice asked from next to me. If I wasn’t in so much pain, I would have rolled my eyes at the newest nickname that he gave me. He gave me the nickname in order to mock me and Marc-Andre. I’ll make him pay for calling me that in public later.
The voice of our team medical examiner, Dr. Charles Burke, was on the other side of me. “Sierra, can you get up?” He asked and I shook my head ever so slightly, whimpering as the pain shot through my jaw. “Ok, here, put this to your mouth.” I felt a towel go under my hands and I pressed it to my mouth, spitting out my mouth guard, and a lot of blood.
The voice of the refs came overhead as the guy who hit me, Bryan Little, was given a 5-minute penalty.
“Erra, you need to get up hun.” Marc-Andre said in French from where Jordan was. I felt his hand go under my arm, and our medical examiner’s hand under my other arm, and the two of them lifted me to my feet.
I held the towel to my mouth, keeping tears back as I leaned heavily on Marc-Andre I was guided to the runway down to the locker rooms. Chris Stewart, our head athletic trainer, helped me down to the locker room.
The TV’s down the runway showed the game, and I could hear the commentators speaking ever so slightly. “She looked like she was in a lot of pain down there. Hopefully she didn’t lose any teeth.” I heard Steigey say. “There was a lot of blood on the ice. Something had to have fallen out for that much blood.” Mike said as a reply.
I didn’t even bother to check if all my teeth were intact until then. But thankfully, when I ran my tongue along the tops of all my teeth on my left side, they were all there and none were loose. The pain on the other hand sure made it feel like it.
Chris led me to where my locker is and sat me down. He carefully took away the towel and I cringed at the amount of blood that was on it. Chris took off my helmet and I tilted my head back and opened my mouth. “I can’t see anything. There is way too much blood.” He said, handing me a water bottle. “Try to clean your mouth out. The water should also help slow, or stop, the bleeding.
I did as I was told. I rinsed my mouth out, cringing as the cold water was swished along wherever the blood was coming from. I was getting a headache from the pain in my mouth; that isn’t usually a good sign.
Chris grabbed a flashlight and walked back over to me. I tilted my head back and he was looking for the source of the blood, and my pain. “All your teeth are there. The pain is coming from the bottom jaw right?” I nodded. “Ok, all your teeth are there.” He tapped my teeth with the handle of a metal spoon gently to see if any were loose. I flinched. “They aren’t loose. But your gum is a different story.”
I gave him a look since I couldn’t talk. He used the handle of the spoon to pull my lip down to reveal my gum. I cringed at that too, which told me that I was going to get a nasty bruise, probably in the shape of the end of a hockey stick.
The look on Chris’s face from seeing my guns made my imagination go wild. “That explains it all.” He said with a sigh. I gave him yet another look to fill me in. “Your gums on the bottom look like mush right now.” He explained. “The stick must have really slammed into your mouth. There is a huge gash into your gums. I can probably guarantee that any contact will hurt.” I moaned. “Going to a dentist will be your best shot.”
I heard the horn go as second intermission started, and I knew the guys would be coming in soon. Chris took the spoon from my mouth and I flexed my jaw, flinching at the pain. “I’m finishing the game.” I stated with such a sense of stubbornness that Chris didn’t even bother to argue.
Chris left my side as I swished the water in my mouth and spat it out in a waste basket that was nearby. There was still a lot of blood, and my gums were killing me. I took an ibuprofen that I had in my bag and Chris handed me a helmet that had the full mask on it as the team piled into the locker room. “Well you have got to wear this then. Any touch to that side of your face will probably send pain shooting through your mouth. After the game, you need to see a dentist.”
I nodded and rinsed my mouth again. “Yes, sir.” I said, and Marc-Andre was suddenly in front of me. “I’m fine.” I said, looking up into his dark, worried eyes.
“You playing this sport stresses me out.” He said with a tone that I never really hear from him, and it confused me. He was scared, and I didn’t understand why. “Especially when you are the only woman in a man’s league; even more so because you are the shortest in the league.”
I took Marc-Andre’s face in my hands and kissed his softly, flinched back as the pain from my gums. “I’m fine, Marcy. Just a little pain.” Relief showed in his eyes. “What’s wrong?”
He shook his head and stood up. “It’s nothing, love. Just… be careful out there.”
I stroked his hair back from his face. “I will. I always am.” Doubt showed in his features, and I shifted under his gaze. There was something on his mind, but I wouldn’t push him, because obviously it was something he wasn’t comfortable saying.
I didn’t have to push though. “It was just a dream I had. It was nothing, really. Don’t worry about it.” Marc said and I raised my eyebrows.
I wanted to ask him about the dream, but Dan walked up and Marc-Andre left my side and went to go say something to Brent. “Are you ok?” He asked, noticing the full-masked helmet next to me.
I nodded. “Yes, coach.” I said, and I showed him my gums. “It’s nothing.”
“Dear Lord, Sierra. You call that nothing? It looks like someone put your mouth through a blender.” He said.
I grumbled. “Gee, thanks.”
Dan laughed. “As long as you feel comfortable playing.”
“I do.”
“Alright, then get out there Crosby.”
I snickered and grabbed the new helmet and headed up the runway for the third period. I was ahead of everyone, with Marc-Andre behind me. As I stepped onto the ice, the crowd roared and I skated beside Marc-Andre, who helped with the helmet. “Be careful.” He whispered as I headed to the bench.
The rest of the game turned in our favor. Gonch tied the game with over a minute left in the game, and Leopold got his first goal as a Penguin in overtime. I tossed the helmet I was wearing to someone in the front row, and I’m pretty sure the boy would have fainted if he wasn’t male.
I walked arm in arm with Marc-Andre down to the locker room, and I told him what Chris said. He stroked my cheek, right where a bruise was forming, and nodded. “Alright. Looks like the fans will have to live with not seeing us after the game then.” He said with a soft smile.
I leaned against him. “Yeah, it’s really starting to hurt when I talk now.” I said quietly, and Marc-Andre sent me away to get changed.
I told my brother what was happening before we left, and I followed Marc-Andre outside to where the Lambo was waiting. The fans cheered our names and got upset when we headed into the car. As we drove to where we leave the parking lot, I could hear Jordan speaking to the crowd. “Sorry guys, but Sierra needs to go get her mouth checked out. That stick to the mouth caused some serious damage.” With that, the crowd quieted. I laughed and sent a quiet thanks to Jordan as we headed towards a dentist office.
The dentist gave me a special gel to put on the terrible gash every 3-4 hours. It was supposed to help my gums heal faster and it numbs the area so the pain goes away. Too bad it didn’t take away the pain from my cheek.
While at the dentist, I saw my gums for the first time since I got hit. Now I see why everyone made terrible comments about it- it really did look like someone took a blender to that side of my mouth. I felt a little bit nauseous.
Marc-Andre tried to crack a joke about how my mouth looked when we were leaving, and I just gave him a look. He laughed and held me close to him. “Sorry babe. I’m only trying to make you feel better.” He kissed the top of my head before we broke apart to get into the car.
“I’ll feel better once I don’t look like I was in a fight and my gums don’t look like something that was been beaten once too many times.” I grumbled.
Marc took my hand and kissed my fingers before pulling out onto the street. “That’s what happens in hockey, hun.” He said. “And you are beautiful no matter what.”
I sighed. “I know.” I looked at him as he says his second comment. “You really think so? Even if I gained 100 pounds and lost a few teeth and never dressed nicely?”
Marc-Andre glanced at me as we sat at a red light. “Of course. I love you for you, not just your looks.” I grinned at him and he laughed. “But please, try not to let that happen.”
I laughed along with him. “I think I would be disgusted with myself if I gained that much weight. And not dressing nicely in public is just not something I could do. I learned fashion from a friend who was French back in middle school.”
Marc-Andre smiled. “And this is why my mother loves you so much.” I gave him a questioning look. “You act French, you speak French, but you aren’t French.” I still wasn’t getting the total point and Marc-Andre laughed. “You fit in with my family perfectly. Sometimes I think more so than some of my cousins.”
I raised an eyebrow. “That’s… encouraging?”
Marc grinned. “It’s a good thing, love.”
I trusted his opinion. “Ok.” We drove in silence for a while. Then I decided to ask a question that goes back to the whole “beautiful” thing. “Would you still think I’m beautiful even if I was pregnant?”
That question caught him off guard. I could tell because he started to answer in French, which made me laugh. “Sierra, I think you are the most beautiful woman in the world.” He started, still in French since I let him continue in his native language. “Nothing can happen to you that will change that.”
I smiled softly and squeezed his hand, playing with the promise ring with my thumb. “Ok.”
He looked at me. “What brings this up?” He asked.
I shrugged. “I guess sometimes I just don’t feel like I’m beautiful. It’s the sport. Hockey is turning me against myself.” I chuckled slightly and looked at Marc when he didn’t laugh with. “What?”
Marc-Andre shook his head. “You are always beautiful, Sierra. No matter what.”
“You flatter me.”
“I only speak the truth to you, love.” He replied with a smile. I had to look away so he didn’t notice the tears in my eyes.
I don’t think he would ever find out how much him saying those things to me made me feel. He really made me feel better and I felt like I should. His words mean everything to me, and what he says always hits home.
We pulled up to the house and I could see Jordan, shirtless, in the front yard… doing yard work. “What the hell is he doing?” I asked, stepping out of the car as Marc-Andre grabbed our bags.
“Your guess is as good as mine, babe.” He said as he walked up the driveway.
I strode over to Jordan and placed my hands on my hips and cleared my throat. Jordan looked up, startled, and placed himself in front of whatever he was doing. “She has her hands on her hips. Always fear Sierra when she has her hands on her hips.” He said quietly, and I raised an eyebrow.
“What are you hiding?” I asked him.
“Nothing.”
“Liar.”
“I can’t tell you.”
I scowled. “Why not?”
Jordan stood up, towering over me, and looked down. “Because I said so.”
I love Jordan. He is like a little brother to me, even though sometimes I treat him like a son even though he is only a year younger; and he never ever stands up to me like that. And quite frankly, it didn’t sit well with me.
That is why I am called the “mother” of the team. Sidney may be captain, but no one dares to disobey me. Sure, that may sound bossy, but it is how I keep the peace in the team and they don’t go all crazy psycho hockey player.
“Jordan Lee Staal…” I started, but halted when his bright blue eyes started to plead with me.
“Please, Sierra, just trust me on this one.” He asked, his eyes pleading even more.
I dropped my hands from my hips and sighed as I turned around. “Fine. You better not be ruining my garden though, Staal.” I mumbled.
I could picture Jordan beaming behind me. “Don’t worry, I’m not.” I turned to look over my shoulder and saw him with his back to me once again; doing whatever it was he was doing. I could tell that he was working on something, because the muscles in his back were shifting.
I went into the house, greeted by my cat, and tossed off my heels I was wearing. I took my phone from my pocket, and realized that I had a text message. My phone was on silent, so I didn’t feel it before.
To: Sierra
Erry, call me when you get the chance. Need to talk with you.
~Krissy
I raised an eyebrow. I haven’t received a text from Kris Versteeg in a long while, and I was quite surprised. The fact he used the nickname he gave me surprised me even more. The fact he needed to talk to me, and wasn’t contacting Jenna was just plan strange.
I found his number in my phone book and called him, reaching around Marc-Andre to grab a piece of meat as he was making a sandwich. I kissed his cheek as the phone rang and chewed on the right side of my mouth.
On the third ring, the familiar voice answered. “Erry!” He exclaimed. “I’m so relieved that you called.”
I walked out of the kitchen towards the front door to open the door. It was a beautiful 80 degrees here, and I wanted to open the windows and doors. “Krissy, what’s up? Is something wrong? Your message had me really worried.” I asked him, watching as Jordan was moving across the garden that was in front of the house.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I wanted you to call as soon as you could, that’s why I sent such a…scary message.” Kris said. “I was worried about you. I saw the hit you took to your mouth.”
I laughed as I headed up the stairs to open the windows in the bedrooms. “So you scare me because I scared you?”
“Yup, pretty much.” I could picture him grinning.
“Alright, you goofball.” I said, grinning myself. “And I’m fine. Thank you for making sure. I have all my teeth, thankfully. Just a screwed up looking mouth that is really painful, and a very bruised cheek. Nothing unusual in our world, right?” I chuckled.
Kris chuckled as well. “Good point. Well, I have to go. I have practice to get too. I just wanted to make sure you were ok.” He said.
“Thank you for asking, Krissy.” I said with a smile. “Take care and enjoy practice.”
“I will. Oh, and Nik wanted me to tell you that he says hi.” I laughed. “Tell your lover that I say hi as well.”
I laughed and shook my head. “I will definitely inform my lover of what you say. Bye, Krissy.”
“Bye, Erry.”
I laughed and hung up the phone, calling down the railing to Marc-Andre. “Hey, lover of mine, Versteeg says hi.”
Marc-Andre walked to the hallway and looked up at me with a smile. “Lover?” He asked, still smiling, and I laughed, shaking my head to indicate to not ask. “Well, that was nice of him. And I love you, lover.”
I laughed. “Love you too, lover.”
I think Kris just gave us a new joke. Haha, thanks Krissy.