Harbour Lights and Lonely Nights

The moment Sidney said those three words something changed. Well actually, the change more likely occurred after he them, when he watched his best friend not freak out. She hadn’t stated any reciprocity of those feelings but she certainly hadn’t turned him down. And although a small part of him felt the need to tread carefully or to not count his chickens before they hatched, and all those other odd analogies, he couldn’t help but feel a certain amount of excitement. He felt as though some large step had been made, that there had finally been some progress in what had remained stagnant for nearly a decade.

He could remember the night they had slept together with such ease. It was easy to recall the feeling of her soft dark hair on his arm, the cool warn fabric of the Habs shirt he had bought her so long ago. This memory was so detailed because it was so often revisited. Each moment, look, word, and breath he tried to cling on to. He had hoped then that Emily would never leave but he didn’t really expect her to be living in his city now. She had moved all this way and a part of him believed it was because of the same yearning not to separate that he had felt since she arrived. So entrenched in his mind was the idea of this dream team. Sid and Em. Now it was taking on something new. Perhaps turning the page to start a new chapter of their story.

His mind almost couldn’t remove itself from swimming in thoughts of Emily as he played the game against the Flyers that night. Even the rivalry paled in comparison to the norm. Surprisingly, though, he still managed to get 2 goals that Emily would later watch being shown for a second time.

When he left for his hotel he didn’t want to go out. He wanted to call her. He didn’t care about Philadelphia or the club his friends would find. So, he slipped into his hotel room as everyone gathered in the lobby to decide where to go.

Retrieving his phone from his jean pocket after throwing down his stuff he noticed there was an unread message.

From: Em
Good luck tonight Capt’n. We’ll be cheering for you.

The text was followed with a cell phone picture of Mischa sleeping in a sitting position on the couch in her very own Crosby replica jersey. The picture made him laugh but he would have much preferred to see Emily in his name. He felt an odd kind of satisfaction when she wore the number he felt so connected to.

Not another moment could he wait when thinking about her. His finger quickly went to the call button and he waited as it rang. The room around him was so empty and silent without his roommate that it felt abandoned. It was a lonely feeling as he looked over the perfect crisp edges of the room, everything in the perfect place. The lights outside managed to somewhat catch his attention. The loneliness of the room contrasted with the life on the streets outside.

“Hello?” finally interrupted the ringing in his ear and her warm voice pulled him from his blankly staring out the window.
“Hi, Em.”
“Sidney!” her voiced was slightly muffled by other indistinguishable noises. The clanging of metal, some deep voices. “How was the game?!”
“We won. I thought you were watching it.”
“I got called into work, I was recording it.”
For a moment all noise on her end became dulled as she mumbled something away from the phone. It all made Sidney feel uncomfortable.
“Did I call at a bad time?” To distract himself from the thought of having the conversation end so abruptly he slid his fingers along the wooden desk by the window. He watched as the smooth surface didn’t change.
“No, I was just working but I can take a break.”
Outside the back of the café Emily took a seat on the cement step. The temperature was cold, especially in her small black shirt, but to hear his voice and to feel somewhat normal again after his confession made it all worth it.
“Did you score me a goal?”
Sidney sat down on the large hotel bed and kicked off his shoes, ready to settle into a conversation he had wanted all day.
“Actually, I scored you 2.”
“two? Pour moi? What ever did I do to deserve that?”
Sidney smiled up at the ceiling as on the other end Emily gazed across alley. “Not much.”
“not much?!” Mock hurt laced her voice. “well I’ll remember that when you get home.”
“Can you hold a grudge that long, Em?”
“Well we’ll just see, won’t we.” She stretched her legs out and stared at them a moment, letting silence settle in between them as she felt herself missing him too much for words. Somehow though, she felt some small comfort in simple knowing he was on the other line.

”You’re doing what?!” Emily said in a huff as her and Sidney stood at the top of the hill near the harbour. At the bottom of the shallow slope Toaster rolled around in the sunlit green grass.
Sidney shrugged at his friend, “It’s not my choice.”
A year of friendship had found itself between the two teenagers. They had met in math class, walked to school regularly, he had taken her to the hospital when she fell on the ice that winter and she had helped him through his math work. Something of a bond seemed to be bringing them closer every day. Until this.
“But you’re still transferring. This sucks.”
Sidney pulled bits of yellow from the dandelion in his hands, A nervous fidget, a distraction.
“I know but we will still see each other a lot. I’m not going far. It’s mostly for hockey.”

“So what happens when I get home?” Sidney suddenly asked, impatient with the ceiling and internally worrying about where he stood with the girl.
She shifted on the step, “We’ll talk about it when you get home okay?”
“I guess it’s not really a conversation for over the phone.”

Just as he admitted that he heard Emily’s name being called in the background and he knew the conversation was over.

“I’ve got to get back to work.”
“I know.”
“But Sid?”
“Yeah.”
“Keep scoring those goals and get back soon.”
“Will do. Night Em.”
“Night.”

When he hung up the phone he felt a feeling of emptiness wash over him. The room was once again just four walls trapping him with his own loneliness.

---

After work Emily got home to only the faint sound of the TV. Mischa was once again asleep in her jersey with the TV on. Emily’s eyes fell affectionately over the scene. So quickly Mischa had become like a sister to her, it was funny to see the Chicago native in the black and gold. Even weirder to see the name of her best friend on the fabric. Each time she saw his name on a jersey or magazine it still felt surreal to her. Sure he had always been the focus of some sort of attention. But he was just her dorky friend from high school, it was hard to see some major league poster boy.

Emily swept up the remote and turned off the TV, waking her friend as a consequence.
“You’re home,” Mischa stated groggily as Emily sat on the couch beside her. “How was work?”
“It was okay.”
“Your friend scored a couple of power play goals.”
“I know, I spoke to him.”
Mischa took a moment to fully let herself wake before asking something that had been bugging her, “What’s been up with you and the kid since he left anyways?”
The memory of that still image of Jean Béliveau on the screen came to mind but she didn’t hesitate to answer. “He told me he loved me.”
The calm collected delivery delayed their impact. When Mischa finally realized the implications of her friend’s words a handful of questions popped into her mind.
“Did you say it back?”
“Not really.”
She chose her next one more wisely, “Do you love him back?”
The question seemed odd to Emily. In her backlog of memories sat endless hugs, endless wasted days, endless laughter, endless fun, endless moments in his arms. There were so many things to look back on, so much time to look back on. And yet two moments quite distinctly stood out. That moment in math class sitting by the window when she first really spoke to Sidney Crosby, and that moment forever ago when she let him kiss her, caress her, take things further than she’d ever thought they’d go. With all this knowledge the conclusion was obvious but she forgot that Mischa wasn’t working with all this information. She was working of the vague impression of a hockey star and her roommates reminiscing about high school. So Emily answered her.
“Of course I love him.”