Breathe Me

“It’s okay Sophie, just try to calm down.”

Kristopher’s words are no use, and I writhe around on the unyielding table as the doctor tries look into my eyes with a flashlight. My cranium literally felt like it was about to explode, and the vivid lights in the room aren’t helping at all. I whimper when another rupture of pain shoots through my head, and I hastily cover my eyes. Kris and Pascal had pretty much dragged me to the team’s doctor, and the pain had continued to steadily get worse.

“Can’t you dim the lights?” Kristopher asks while running a hand through my hair. It’s an effort to soothe me, and it helps only a little. The doctor sighs impatiently, and I hear his footsteps get further away from me.

“Alright Sophie, try to open your eyes for me.”

I cautiously obey the doctor, and I am relieved when I realize that it’s almost pitch black in the room. Something was wrong with me; this wasn’t a normal headache that I would get often. It was more brutal and unremitting. I instantly knew it had to do with all of the times Ryan had hit my head and repeatedly slammed it against a wall.

“I know this is going to make your headache worse, but I have to look at your eyes and see if your pupils are dilated or not, Sophia.” The doctor talks delicately and turns the flashlight on. I cry out when he shines the intense light in my eyes. Kris actually has to hold my head down, and he runs his hand over my forehead, wiping the sweat off. I can’t help the tears that start to instinctively pour out of my eyes.

“Oh goodness,” the doctor switches the light to my other eye and gasps, “that is not a good sign at all.”

Kristopher tenses up and stops running his hand through my hair, “What’s wrong?” his voice is occupied with apprehension, and his voice is trembling.

“Look at her pupils,” Kris leans over at the doctor’s command and stares into my eyes, “her pupils are unequal, see? The right one is bigger than the left. This is a sign of intracranial injury or traumatic brain injury, how many concussions have you had in your life Sophia?”

My body is shaking even though it’s not cold in the room and my skin feels clammy, “five, most of them weren’t severe though.” I answer feebly. I hear the doctor exhale noisily, and I shut my eyes when he pulls the flashlight away.

“She got lucky then; concussions are actually the mildest type of TBI, and are easily treatable. What I am going to do is prescribe some medication to help with the headaches and nausea, and I’m going to suggest you take her to the hospital as soon as you possibly can. Even though her condition is mild, she still might have hematoma and that can actually be deadly because there is blood between the brain and skull which applies more pressure than necessary, and as a result it can cause even more brain damage.”

His voice sounds like it’s far away, and I have no idea what him and Kris are talking about. My head lolls to the side when Kris presses his hand to my cheek and I am tempted to just fall asleep right there. Instead I gaze up at the ceiling and tune everything out. I have heard a lot about brain injuries and how they can shorten someone’s lifespan. Troubling thoughts started to consume my mind. What if I had to get brain surgery? Or what if I just died in my sleep? I heard a lot about people who die in their sleep because they have a brain injury, and it’s so severe that they just can’t wake up.

Kristopher hooks his arm underneath the backs of my knees and carries me out of the room. I cover my face with my hands and burst into a fit of tears. I hear Kris converse to a few people as we make our way out of the arena, mostly people telling me to get better soon. I conceal my face in Kris’ jacket, and I try to make myself to wake up from this awful dream.

Kris sets me in the passenger seat of the car, and kneels down on the icy cement in front of the open door. He grabs my hand and kisses my knuckles.

“We’re going to get through this, okay? We always do.”
****
“Sophie, wake up.”

My heart almost stops beating when she doesn’t respond, “Sophie! Wake up!” my whisper becomes louder, and I tenderly shake her shoulder. Frankie lifts his head from the foot of the bed, and whimpers softly.

“Huh, what happened? Stop eating all the poutine Frankie!”

I can’t help but to snicker at her lethargic state. She was obviously acting kind of nutty due to the medication that the doctor had prescribed. It had been only a few hours since I had taken her to the team’s doctor, and despite her protests, I had taken her to the hospital right after. Thankfully there was no severe internal damage to her brain, and the neurosurgeon had told me that there was absolutely no bleeding. He told Sophia that she would have to take medication for a very long time because headaches are always going to be a permanent part of the brain injury, but she would get used to it after a while.

It wasn’t fair that she would have to get used to that.

Nothing about Sophia’s life seemed fair to me.

She pouts and rubs her eyes, “Why did you wake me up?” She scoots over and lays her head on the pillow.

I lift the comforter and get in next to her, “The doctor told me to wake you up every hour”

She groans and stuffs her head into the pillow. She stays like that for a few minutes and then turns her head so she’s looking at me in the eye, “So then what do we do now? There’s no way I am getting any sleep tonight.”

“Let’s just ask each other questions, I want to know everything about you.” I suggest softly, and wrap an arm around her.

“Alright, you go first.” She shifts her body and gets more comfortable.

“Favourite animal?”

“Elephants. What’s your favourite place you have ever been?”

“Hawaii was really beautiful and the people there didn’t know who I was, which was really nice.” I had gone to Hawaii last year after we had lost in the playoffs, and it had been pleasant to get away where most people had no clue as to who you are.

“Favourite team… besides the Pens.”

“Canadiens, but I do have a soft spot for the Maple Leafs.” She blushes when I snort at the last part, “What’s you least favourite team?”

“It’s a tie between the Caps and the Islanders. What’s one band that you hate?”

She groans, “Radiohead, don’t even ask why, I just do,” she bites her lip as she ponders her next question, “Did it hurt when you got your tattoo?”

Her fingers skim across the artwork on my bicep, and I notice the melancholy in her eyes, “Not really actually, it was like more of an itch that I couldn’t scratch. It was worth it in the end though.” I murmur the last part quietly.

“I can tell you miss him and your grand-mère. Some days you’re sad and you zone out easily, and some days you barely talk at all.” She shyly avoids any eye contact, as if I should be mad at her for bringing up the delicate subject.

“I’m sorry; I don’t ever want you to think I’m mad at you. Some days are just harder than others, and now Luc’s birthday is coming up, and that’s always a tough time for me.”

“I’m here; I always am if you want to talk. I know what it’s like to feel alone, and I don’t want you to ever feel like I have, like you don’t have anyone to talk to.”

“You two would have gotten along so well. You’re both completely different, but I just know you two would have been great friends.”

She gazes up at me through those long eyelashes, “You think so?”

I know if I talk about him, I’ll start crying, so I merely nod my head. I’ve never cried in front of a woman, besides my own mother, and Sophia is the last person I want to see me cry. She needs me to be strong for her, and I don’t want to lose any of my masculinity.

She has a different idea though, “It’s alright to cry, and I won’t think of you any differently.” Her voice is a hushed murmur, “You’ve kept it all bottled up these past years, and if you keep doing that you’re just going to have an emotional collapse one day.”

I break down at the sound of her tender voice, and she scoots closer to me and wraps her small arms around me. She lightly squeezes the back of my neck in a comforting manner. I burrow my face against the warm skin on her bare shoulder, and I pour my heart out the French-Canadian girl.

“Je suis désolé, je viens de manquer tout le monde. I miss my family and old friends, I miss Luc and my grand-mère,” I blubber into the crook of her shoulder pathetically, I don’t want her to see my ugly crying face, “I’m sorry about the shitty childhood you had, and that you had to grow up all alone. It’s not fair and I wish you didn’t have to go through all of that. I’m sorry that you lost your dad, and you didn’t really have a supportive mom. I’m sorry that I’m not always here whenever you have a nightmare, or when you’re sad.” I sob out, and I hear her snivel as her fingers intertwine themselves in my hair, “I just feel so guilty sometimes, like I can’t give you everything you need, and now you’re hurting because of all of the brain injuries you have had.”

“Please don’t feel guilty Kristopher,” her voice is shaking terribly and I realize she is also crying, “I know it’s part of your job and you have no control over it, I understand completely. Don’t be sorry about my past, none of it is your fault, and it’s all over with now. I just want to look forward to the future, with you in it.” Her tiny hands lightly grab my cheeks and pull my head up so she can look me in the eyes. She presses a comforting kiss to my forehead as I try to rub the tears from my eyes.

“Je suis tellement désolé, et je promets que je ferai tout pour faire mieux”
****
“Oh god, I can’t believe I actually fell asleep on you while crying.”

I groan when I wake up the next morning to see Sophia already awake. My head is resting in her lap as she sits up against the headboard. Her fingers are playing with my hair, and I shut my eyes and cherish the soothing touch.

“Don’t worry about it Kris. I really don’t mind.” Her voice is full of warmth and she bursts out into a fit of giggles when my unshaven chin brushes against the sensitive skin on her exposed thigh. She tries to pull it away, but I circle my arm around the soft flesh, and press a couple of feathery kisses on her inner thigh.

“Kristopher!” She squeals out when I little by little start to inch up her thigh, and my facial hair tickles against her susceptible skin. I unhook my arm from her thigh and sit up straighter so I’m eye level with her. She wraps her arms around my neck and presses her soft lips to mine. I enfold my arms securely around her waist and pull her closer so she’s straddling me.

I grunt when she presses her chest against mine, “Sophie, I can’t control myself when you do this to me.” I feel embarrassed as the words leave my mouth. It sounds like it should be in some tacky romance novel that you find at the checkout counter at the grocery store.

She lightly presses her forehead against mine and stares into my eyes, “What if I don’t want you to?” she tugs at my lower lip with her teeth, “What if I want you to lose control, Kristopher? Me montrer combien tu m'aimes”

I press her back down onto the mattress when she slips into her wonderful French. She blushes when my fingers grasp the hemline of her oversized t-shirt, and leisurely pull it up. Every move I make is cautious, and I’m a little nervous that I might do something to trigger a terrible past experience, but she doesn’t seem the least bit nervous. I finally tug that damn shirt off of her torso, and I gaze down at her. She’s wearing a white lacey bra with a small gold bow in the center, like a gift just waiting to be unwrapped. I fleetingly wonder if that’s what she and Vero had gone shopping for a couple days ago when they had ditched Flower and I in the mall food court.

“tu es si belle ma chérie.” I place a tender kiss on the tip of the large scar that starts in between her breasts, and I pull her close to me so that her back is lifted off of the mattress, I reach around and with a couple of unsuccessful attempts, I finally manage to unclasp her bra. My breath catches in my throat when I finally get a glimpse of those perfect breasts. I can’t stop myself as I lean down and sink my teeth into the underside of her breast, earning an appreciative moan from her. She pushes her chest up when I bite her pinkish nipple harshly, and I try to remind myself to be gentle with her. My hand sneaks its’ way in between our bodies, and she whimpers when my hand trespasses the pajama shorts she’s wearing. My fingers brush against her wet folds, and I glance at her face. Her eyes are fluttering, and her head lolls backwards into the pillow and she gasps for air when my fingers violate her slick folds. She’s incredibly tight around my finger, and I become fully aware of how hard I am for her.

“Hey Kris! Let us in, we want to see how are friend is doing!!”

We both instantaneously freeze at Max’s thunderous voice ringing through the house, and I hastily pull my hand from her shorts, letting out a litany of curse words in French. I gaze down at Sophia, and her blue eyes are enormous with a combination of embarrassment and annoyance.

She huffs, “They always pick the worst moments to interrupt us.”