No Soul

May twelfth, two thousand and ten.

The Penguins game seven against the Montreal Canadiens, the game that would decide if they would be advancing to play the Flyers in the next round.

A thousand things swirled through Sidney Crosby’s mind as they saluted their home crowd for the last time of the season.

Could have worked harder, should have pushed more… Should have left it all on the ice.

And although his teammates and coaches gave him the respect he had earned before the media could storm his stall, all he could think of was the missed opportunity at hoisting Lord Stanley’s cup for a second time in his short twenty-three years.

After answering repetitive questions, Sidney thought he was going to go cross-eyed from the relentless press.

What could you have done differently?

What does it mean for a team like the Habs to come in and knock the Penguins out of reach for the Cup?

What can we expect from the Pens next season?

Was this really the way you wanted to send out the Mellon?

Sidney plastered on a tough face and sometimes managed the smallest of smiles when asked about what his plans were for the summer. He was, after all, the face of the Pittsburgh Penguins.

Sidney was the last to leave the locker room, taking his sweet time knowing that the next time he entered would be to clear out his belongings and remove his nameplate. The stall would go to the highest bidder and benefit the charity of Mario Lemieux’s choice.

Mario Lemieux, the one man that Sidney trusted more than anyone else. More than his father, even if he’d never say it out loud. Mario was a strong and kind presence in Sidney’s life, while his father, Troy, was simply strong. Mario could relate to the pressures of Sidney’s life in the National Hockey League. Troy could not.

“You played well, Sid.” Mario clapped his protégé on the back warmly. “Don’t let this get to you.” He insisted. “Go home, get some sleep and tomorrow starts a new season.” He advised. Sidney gave him an appreciative smile and a nod before ducking out of the arena, signing a few autographs for the fans that had stuck around long after the game had finished. A few smiles and photos later, he was tucked in his black Range Rover and heading back to his new home.

Four bedrooms, three and a half baths, and a big yard out back he could flood next winter to have friends and family compete in a little pond hockey. He opened his front door, setting his keys on the table next to his mail, and sat in the leather recliner in this family room. He took in the silence of the home and for a split moment wondered why he ever moved out of Mario’s place to begin with.

“You’re an adult now, Sidney, it’s time for you to grow up and grow out.” His father’s stern voice rang in his head. But Sidney didn’t know that growing up meant growing lonely.

The house was too big, too impersonal, too quiet. He was only left alone with his thoughts. And at the moment, his thoughts were the last thing he wanted hear. Getting up from the recliner, he walked to the cold, steel kitchen, grabbing a Rolling Rock from the fridge before laying himself down across the suede micro-fiber couches, feeling every bone and joint in his body groan and ache. He’d have another good few years before he’d blow something out, tear a crucial ligament, or need something replaced. He’d appreciate those years as much as possible.

Sidney didn’t expect to fall asleep to the warm, white noise of the forty-inch plasma, but when he awoke at four-thirty, beer spilled on the carpet under his feet and a small spot of drool in the corner of his mouth, he wiped it away with a small blush like someone was watching. Before he had allowed himself to make it up to his master bedroom, he quickly cleaned the stain.

It was when he set foot in the master suite did his body turn to autopilot, walking to his closet and heading straight to the back to the small, silver safe that not even his closest of friends and family knew the combination to. Clean and polished from his cleaning service’s day of work, he flipped the dial three times. Eighty-seven, two, twenty-two.

He crouched to the floor before allowing himself to actually drop to it, resting his back against the wall as the hanging button-down shirts enveloped in front of him like a child in a blanket fort.

Grabbing the two glossy photos from the safe, he searched them as if now he’d notice something new about the two pictures he had never seen before, even if he had scanned them with his honey-obsidian eyes what seemed liked hundreds of times.

The faint orange numbers in the text were beginning to fade and soon the photograph would fade as well.

4/10/2007

They had just turned three about a month ago.

Sometimes he let himself wonder about the people they would grow up to be. Noah was quick and mischievous but also sweet, like his Grandma. Emma was intelligent and curious who liked to explore everything she came in contact with.

That was all that Sidney really knew about the two because that’s all he had been told in the small note scribbled on the back of the Kodak paper. Those were the only real things he had to go off of when he thought about them.

He wanted just for the tiniest glimpse at what they were like now. His fingers brushed over the small, content expressions on the two newborns’ faces. The only photos he had of them were from the day they were born. The baby boy was asleep but Sidney knew he must have the same dark eyes like his sister who stared up the camera with the tiniest curl of her pink, pouty little lips. They looked like a pair of bookends swaddled tightly in cashmere-soft blue and pink blankets – matching caps to keep their little heads warm.

For just a moment he pictured a different life for himself. A wife waiting at home, his two babies excited and ready to greet him at the door. They would tell him about his day and he couldn’t get enough of them as they described the tiniest of tasks in great detail. He would tuck them into bed like his mother did for him. Stories to be read as they snuggled into their pajamas and a glass of warm milk beside their beds.

But that wasn’t the life for Sidney Patrick Crosby, phenom and savior of the Pittsburgh Penguins. Stuffing the photo back into the small manila envelope, he eyed it warily for a moment. It was nights like these that got to him the most. Soon his secret was stashed away back in his safe behind steel.

He would pull it out again the next night. Even if he told himself he would only indulge when he was feeling vulnerable.

There wasn’t a night that went by that he allowed himself to take in the image of Noah and Emma Irwin.

•••

“Mama I don’t like.” Emma Crosby whined softly, pulling against the restraints of her booster seat, tugging against the straps that rubbed harshly against her baby-soft skin.

“I know you don’t baby girl, but your booster is what keeps you safe. Don’t you want to be safe when you go in the car with Mommy?” Lana Irwin asked her young daughter who was covered in temporary tattoos thanks to the little boy at her daycare who liked to chase and tease her.

“No!” She huffed, kicking her feet against the plastic guards of the toddler seat with wild abandon.

“Hey, hey, that’s now how we behave.” Lana said quietly in a calm voice that instantly soothed her daughter who stared up at her with curious dark eyes that rivaled bittersweet chocolate. “Are you a good girl?” She asked quietly, to which Emma nodded obediently. “Do good girls kick and scream?” She asked, brushing the toddler’s dark hair away form her face, a few wisps managing to escape her small, pink barrettes.

“No, Mama.” Emma replied gently before her Mother could press a kiss down onto her daughter’s head.

“Now we’re going to and pick up Noah, then Mama is going to make some noodles for dinner, how does that sound?” She asked, making Emma smile widely and showcase her little peg-teeth that were white as snow.

“Okie.” She kicked her little chubby legs out of happiness, but looked down at them with a gasp before covering her mouth. “Oops.” She blushed violently with a small giggle, making Lana laugh, pecking her once more on her soft cheek before closing the door and climbing into the driver’s side.

Lana Irwin was glad to have soothed her daughter for now, knowing that once she picked up the little girl’s other half, it would be twice as hard to keep them from turning into a flurry of screaming, giggling and demands.

The Irwin twins were a piece of work but they were the best job in the world.

At twenty-two years old, Lana never imagined this life for herself in Sunbury, Pennsylvania. But the people of her small town were welcoming to a girl in her predicament just about four years ago. Pregnant, abandoned by her lover, jobless and struggling to find a home for her expanding family – the residents of Sunbury took her in with open arms.

Lana was never the kind of girl to end up in this sort of situation. She was smart, she graduated early from McGill and with honors. She was resourceful being raised by her grandparents until they had died just before her sophomore year of college she had to grow up quickly. And damn if Lana Irwin wasn’t one hell of a fighter.

Raising twins on her own and managing to give them to live a normal life was not something most mothers could boast. Seeing the smiles on her children’s face was something that made it all worthwhile.

Lana was a safe driver, which was something she was particularly proud of. She knew she was carrying precious cargo and liked to act as such when she was out on the road.

It was other people on the road that made her anxious.

Two thirty-five and she was late to pick Noah up from Maria’s – her good friend from work that was watching him while he had a small fever.

“What do you want to listen to baby doll?” Lana asked, turning on the radio even though she knew what her little girl would say.

“Wiggles!” She giggled excitedly, her little fists occupied by the stuffed bunny in her hands that went everywhere with her.

“I think I can stand to listen to ‘fruit salad’ one more time.” Lana said mostly to herself, pressing the ‘CD’ button as she pulled out of the parking lot.

“Foot salad! Nummy nummy!” Emma sang along from the backseat, repeating the few words she knew over and over. Lana laughed, thankful for her two treasures in life as they pulled up to a red light at an intersection.

“You’re a beautiful singer, Emmy-baby.” Lana blew a kiss at her daugher in her rearview mirror, grinning uncontrollably as Emma repeated her action, blowing her an over-exaggerated kiss.

Lana waited for the green light before advancing forward, the car coming in from the left of the intersection couldn’t say the same.

It barreled forwards at fifty-five miles an hour into the side of Lana Irwin’s Jeep Cherokee.