Carry You Home

“You need to give her some time,” my mother in law implores in her heavy Quebecois accent, her normally quiet and reserved voice strong and forceful.

Despite spending the last three and a half decades teaching often smart mouthed and often unruly high school students, she rarely raises her tone yet somehow manages to control any and all situations. A tiny, unassuming woman who commands -and receives- respect. This is the first time I've heard this this frazzled. Pushed to the limits of her patience and tolerance by the three ring circus that has taken over her youngest son's life in the span of a few weeks. Sharing in his heartbreak when it became apparent that the Penguins wouldn't offer a new deal and that he wasn't included in their long term plans, spending hours sitting with him and listening to him fret and stress about where his career was taking him and what decision would be the most beneficial to his family, and now having to bear witness to some of the hate that is being directed his way. All of the horrible, mean things that are being spread all over the internet, the burning of Talbot jerseys and the threats against his physical health and well being. Hearing those things about someone you love to the ends of the earth...who you'd die protecting if it ever came down to it...is gut wrenching. I've wanted nothing more than to rant and rave at the obnoxious assholes despite my own feelings of anger and bitterness towards Max for making such a decision without me. He doesn't deserve the way he's being treated. The door had been slammed shut in his face here and he'd had no choice but to move on. What was he supposed to do? Beg?

The past month and a half have been a nightmare. I can't accept Max's decision. I don't know if I ever will be able to. He'd gone behind my back -after we'd already decided to move to Montreal where we'd be closer to our families- and had made such a life altering choice without even discussing it with me first. Without even giving me a heads up or just telling me that he had decided to take things in a different direction. Had I not had to find out through the media -reporters showing up on my doorstep and dropping the bomb on me by asking 'how do you feel about leaving Pittsburgh for Philadelphia?'- I wouldn't have so much anger simmering inside of me. I wouldn't loathe him the way I do. It was a total bitch move that he'd pulled. Complete disrespect towards me and our baby. And I'm not sure if I'll ever be able to forgive him.

Maybe...just maybe...my refusal to leave Pittsburgh is a way of punishing him. Or rebelling against the control I've always let him have in our marriage. Showing him that this time around, I won't simply go along with whatever he says. That I'm going to put my foot down when it comes to something I'm so adamant about and there's not a goddamn thing he can do to change my mind. It's not that I don't love him. God knows that my entire life revolves around Max and our little boy. That my husband is my best friend, lover and most loyal confidant and I love him to the ends of the earth and beyond. But right now...right now things aren't good between us. They're a nightmare of epic proportions. And they've been that way for quite a while now. I had thought that I'd dealt with his infidelity; I'd accepted his remorseful apology and I regained my trust in him and I stayed with him regardless of his epic fuck up.

We had been moving past it. Months spent seeing a couples counsellor on a fairly regular basis had really improved our relationship. It hadn't occurred to us that we'd been drifting apart. That being parents had taken its toll on our marriage. We loved our little boy so much...devoted every waking moment we had to making sure he was happy and healthy...but we'd gotten so wound up in being someone's mommy and daddy that we'd forgotten what it was like to Max and Sloan. Lost all emotional and physical connection with one another outside of those roles. Somehow we had managed to recapture that. 'Renew the woo' as the therapist called that. My in laws -Godsends, in my opinion- had come down to Pittsburgh to lend a helping hand with the baby and had given us the chance to start over again. Silly things like nights out at the bowling alley or at the movies, hand in hand strolls down at Point State Park, quaint dinners at our favourite restaurants and 'adult time' at hotels. It had done us a world of good and things improved greatly. We'd even talked about finally getting the house we wanted and having another baby.

And now this.

What Max has done has not only brought new woes into our life, but brought old wounds to the surface.

I don't want him to go to Philadelphia without us. But at the same time, I can't be there either. Not at this point in time. Maybe not ever.

“How much time?” Max sounds frustrated. On the verge of tears even. I know how bad it had hurt him to be slapped in the face with the cold, hard reality that Pittsburgh didn't want him anymore. How much it still hurts and how he incessantly talks about all the 'what ifs'. Yes, this is a business, but he's still a human being that feels as if his heart has been ripped clear out of his chest. He'd spent six years playing here and the fans had been nothing but amazing to him, and then to myself and eventually the baby when we became fixtures in Max's life. There's so many memories here. So many incredible things that he's accomplished on and off the ice. And I know it's extremely hard for him to say goodbye. He doesn't want people to hate him. To think less of him. “It's been almost two months, mom. It happened on July first and it's almost the beginning of September. In a week I have to be in Philadelphia. In seven days we have to move and...”

“And you have to realize that she's not ready to accept all of this,” Lucie interjects. “She needs you to give her some space. Some time to digest everything that's going on. And you need to accept that she's not going to Philadelphia. At least not right now. And you know what? I agree with her on this. That the two of you need to step back from each other and...”

“That's fucking bullshit,” he snaps, and then immediately apologizes -in French- to his mother. “This isn't right,” he continues in English. “None of this is right. We're supposed to be a family. Families are supposed to stick together. For better or for worse, remember? We both said those vows, mom. Not just me. She's the one going back on them. I did this for us. For our family. Loyalty and love for a team that doesn't want you isn't going to put food on the table, is it. It's not going to pay the mortgage and all the bills. And it's five years. You know what five years is like in this league? It might as well be fifty. Everything I did, I did it for her and the baby. And if she can't fucking see that...”

I hold my breath in anticipation for what he's going to say next. Terrified to hear what's going to come out of his mouth. There's been so much tension...so many fights and blatant ignoring and making him feel like complete and utter shit...that I'm sure he's on the verge of crumbling completely. A human being can only take so much, and God knows I've spent the past several weeks putting him through hell. It's selfish, of course. This wanting to torture him because of how much he hurt me. But I've been betrayed twice now. First with the one night stand with the stripper and now with this. And a huge part of me needs to see this through. Needs to feel vindicated. And I try to be as quiet as possible -and not to wake baby Max as he sleeps soundly beside me- as I roll over to face the door. I've spent the past two months struggling with all of these conflicting emotions. Loving someone so much it hurts yet hating them with a fiery passion only moments later. Feeling betrayed over him making such a life altering decision without me. Having to bear witness to the horrible things that are being said about him and having no real way (other than through a blog or empathetic reporters) to defend him. I'm exhausted. Emotionally and physically. And the trip to the new house in Haddonfield had been too much for me to take. As soon as we'd gotten back to Pittsburgh I, I couldn't take the headache or the constant nausea any longer and I'd needed to just get away. Seek some refuge in the master bedroom, curled up under the mound of blankets, face buried in a pillow so no one could hear me cry.

An hour later Max had wandered in, muttering half ass apologies about waking me up and then dumping our toddler onto the bed and leaving.

“Nap with you, momma,” my son had announced, and had given me a noisy, wet kiss before crawling under the covers and cuddling up to me.

He's the one shining light in all of this. The one thing that keeps me afloat. My little boy...our little boy...with his huge, sparkling blue eyes and his (in my father in law's words) 'cheeky monkey' grin and his tousled light brown hair. He's a carbon copy of his daddy from top to bottom, inside and out. Everything from Max's smile to his mannerisms to those impossibly skinny calves. He's so beautiful...so unbelievably precious...so happy and healthy. Being a mom is everything I thought it would be and more. My greatest achievement. And it's because of my son...because we'd managed to create this incredible little life...that it would be impossible for me to ever truly hate Max. If things ever disintegrated between us, our son would keep us tied together for the rest of our lives. And as I listen to the conversation taking place at the end of the hall, I reach out and comb my fingers through my son's silky hair. He stirs slightly but doesn't awake; impossibly long and dark eyelashes flutter against smooth, rosy cheeks, the tip of his nose and his lips twitching and a content sigh escaping his lips before he rolls over onto his side.

******

“Maxime...listen to me...” Lucie sighs heavily. “...you have to listen to me. It's not what you did. It's how you did it. You promised her one thing and you did another. She accepted that things were over here. That it was time to move on. But the plan was to go to Montreal and that's what she had her heart set on. You both agreed that that was what you were going to do and...”

“But the deal, mom. The deal. Five years. Five years for someone like me. A third or fourth line hack. I'm not Sidney fucking Crosby. Teams don't jump at the chance to sign guys like me. They don't shell out that many years and that much money for a player like me. It only happened because the free agent pool was shallow this year. Lucky for me, I guess. But I couldn't turn that down. I would have been a fool to turn that down. It's job security. I did it for her. For the baby.”

“And deep down she realizes that. Deep down she knows you did the right thing. She doesn't fault you for not taking the deal here. What did she tell you? What did she say to you when it was offered? Didn't she tell you that it was a slap in the face and that you deserved more than that?”

“A pity contract,” emotion chokes at his voice. “She called it a pity contract.”

“She wanted more than that for you. She knows you're worth more than that. Because she loves you and wants what's best for you. This isn't about leaving Pittsburgh. She already relegated herself to the fact it would most likely happen. She's been preparing herself since the beginning of the playoffs. Maybe even sooner. It's not about what you did, son. It's about how you did it. You made a decision...with her...and you went back on it. You broke a promise. And she's hurt, Max. She's hurt and she's angry. And you know what? I don't blame her. Not for one second.”

“So now you're turning your back on me, too? Both of you hate me?”

“We don't hate you, Maxime. We love you and we want what's best for you. But what you did...going back on your word...it hurts. It's a betrayal to her. And she's going to need some time to get over that.”

“But how much time?!” he snarls. “Another week? A month? A couple of months? How much time does she need? How much does she need me to give her? Because it's been nearly eight weeks and nothing is getting better. Everything is the same. She can't stand being around me. Every time she looks at me it's like she's going to throw up and...”

“Now that's just overreacting. She doesn't...”

“I try to talk to her and she either ignores me completely or talks to me like I'm some worthless piece of shit. She doesn't want me anywhere near her. Haven't you seen it, mom? How she reacts if I even try to touch her? Like I've got some disgusting disease that I'm going to pass along and...”

“Maxime...you're reading too much into this. You're...”

“She hates me. She fucking hates me, mom. And I don't know what she needs me to do or say to make this better. I fucked up. I made a mistake. But I did what I did for her and Max. To give them some security. And this is what she does? Acts like this?” his voice rises as the hurt and the anger finally kick in. “Like some spoiled fucking brat? Practically throwing temper tantrums? Staying here? Living in Pittsburgh with our son...MY SON...while I'm five hours away? Just to fucking spite me?! Just to teach me a lesson?! I don't ask for much from her, mom. I never would. I know how hard all of this is on her. Not just leaving Pittsburgh but being married to a hockey player in general. How lonely it is and how she does everything about here by herself. Taking care of the house, raising the baby, making sure things are running smoothly. And you know...she knows, too..how much I love her and how I worship the ground she walks on. And the one time I really need her...the one time that I need her to tell me she loves me and that she'll support me no matter what...she goes and does this!”

His words hit home. A vicious kick to the stomach that leaves me breathless. I've never heard Max talk about me like that. With so much contempt in his voice. We've had our fair share of fights...arguments that have turned into epic mud slinging contests...but he's never, ever sounded like this. Like he could just walk away and wash his hands of me. I've hurt him. In the same way he's done to me. I'd taken the two things that mean the most to him -me and the baby- and used them against him. And it takes all of the will power in my body to not jump out of bed and go storming into the hallway and beg him to forgive me. To tell him that I love him no matter what. That I'm just angry and that I needed a way to get back at him. But I don't. I don't go to him. Because right now my own pain is too much to bear. Disgust in myself for doing what I'm doing to someone I love so much and bitterness towards him for his acts of betrayal.

“Just because she's angry and she's hurt doesn't mean she doesn't love you or support you,” my mother in law tries to reason. “Why can't you see things her way? Why can't you sit down and think about what you've done and why it's hurt her so much? Why can't you put yourself in her shoes? Why...?”

“Why can't she put herself in mine?!” he bellows, and Max Junior nearly jumps clear out of his skin and bolts awake. And as his eyes fill with tears and his entire body starts to shake in terror, I quickly gather him into my arms and tuck him tight into my chest. Stroking his hair and his back and whispering words of comfort into his ear. “Why can't she fucking realize how hard this is on me?! I'm not leaving Pittsburgh because I want to! They didn't want me, mom! They made it perfectly fucking clear I wasn't part of their plans. What was I supposed to do? Get on my hands and knees and beg Ray and Mario to take me back?”

“Of course not. No one expected that. No one...”

“I did what I had to do. For my family. And if Sloan can't fucking see that...if she can't yank her head out of her ass and start acting like a grown fucking woman...a wife and a mother...instead of a spoiled fucking brat....”

“Max...keep your voice down...Sloan and the baby are sleeping. Just keep your voice down and try to relax. Just...”

“...then maybe this is it for us,” he ignores her entirely. “Maybe this is the end. Maybe it was never meant to be. Maybe she never loved me like she said she did.”

“You're being ridiculous,” my mother in law sighs, and their footsteps retreat down the hall. “You need to calm down and just think about what you're saying. You need to...”

“I'm through with this fucking shit! I'm sick of this fucking place. Of all the arguing and being treated like shit. I'm fucking sick of it. I'm fucking sick of her!”

With that, the sound of the front door slamming echoes throughout the entire house. And is soon followed by him open and closing the driver's side door on our BMW SUV, the start of the engine and the squealing of tires as he peels out of the driveway.

Taking a deep, quivering breath, I release it slowly and then stare up at the ceiling. Tears blurring my vision and whatever is left of my heart threatening to shatter.

What have you done, Sloan? What the hell have you done?