No One Told You Life Was Gonna Be This Way

“Are you embarrassed of me or something like that?” Sidney asked out of the blue as we cuddled on his couch, watching Friends, of course.

“No, why would you say that?” I furrowed my brow at both Sidney's question and Ross' futile attempt to play rugby.

“You haven't told your parents about me and-”

“I haven't told my parents about anything since I left.”

“Your friends didn't know we were dating until two days ago. We barely go out, when we're together.”

“I don't want people to see us. I don't want cameras taking pictures of us together. I don't want hockey blogs dedicating posts to our relationship.”

“Why do you care about that? I don't. Puck Daddy and Pensblog can write all they want about me and you. I don't care.”

“I know and I shouldn't either, but I do. Someone has to.”

“That's Pat's job. Not your's,” Sidney kissed my forehead.

Pat Brisson. I had met him only once and I never want to meet him again. The stripper? The way he spat the word was all I needed to know what he thought of me. I wasn't anything to him. He wanted me out of the picture. Gone.

“I guess,” I sighed and snuggled against Sidney, pulling the blanket over the both of us. It was amazing how Sidney could do that. Make me forget anything bad ever happened or would happen.



“Where are we going?” I asked as Sidney drove out of the city.

“Greensburg.”

“What's in Greensburg? There’s nothing in Greensburg but corn fields and tumble weeds.”

“You'll see.”

“What's with all the secrecy?”

“Just want to surprise you,” Sidney grinned, enigmatically.

“You should have just blindfolded me,” I groaned, staring out the window seeing the metropolis disappear into farmland.

“Blindfolds? That's pretty kinky.”

“Did I just hear Sidney Crosby use the word kinky? Don't use that around Pat. He might think I'm rubbing off on you.”

“You know you like it when I talk dirty to you!” Sidney teased. The car eased to a stop, “We're here.”

“What is this place?” I peered out of the window to see nothing but corn fields for miles and miles.

“It's a corn maze.”

“Sexy.” I deadpanned.

“It is, isn't it?” Sidney teased. Sidney’s hand reached for mine, our fingers intertwining.

It’s funny how just that simple touch, the weaving of our fingers, could make my cheeks blush and my heart rate pick up, “I’ve never been to a corn maze before.”

“It’s fun. There’s nothing more fun than getting lost in ten acres of corn,” Sidney pulled on a Pirates baseball hat over his curling hair.

“Nice disguise,” I smiled and placed a kiss on his cheek, “I wouldn’t mind getting lost with you.”

“Don’t worry, babe. I’ve got a great sense of direction,” Sidney flashed his bright smile as we entered the corn maze.

Turns out Sidney’s great sense of direction meant two hours of twists and turns and well straight up wandering.

Men.

All of them are the same.

None of them ever want to use a map.

But I didn’t mind. There wasn’t much to complain about wandering aimlessly, when you have Sid “The Kid” on your arm.

It was a perfect fall day. The air was crisp and slightly nippy. The sun warmed our faces. It was uncharacteristically nice for Pittsburgh.

This perfect weather meant a good amount of families and couples were also wandering the lush, green labyrinth.

Two dark-haired boys ran by us, racing each other to the other side.

I couldn’t help but smile.

“Do you want kids?” Sidney asked.

“Someday. When I was little, I dreamed of having a huge family. Enough kids to fill a hockey team,” I laughed, “I’m an only child so I felt pretty lonely growing up.”

“I’m sure your future husband wouldn’t mind making hockey team of kids with you,” A wicked grin spread across his boyish face.

“Take that smirk off your face, before I do it myself,” I quipped.

“Oh? And how would you do that?” Mischief twinkled in his eyes.

I smirked and I rolled up onto the balls of my feet. My lips pressed against his in a chaste kiss.

Gathering me close, Sidney plundered my mouth, his lips parted my own and his tongue massaged my own.

I would my arms around his neck and held on tight. He kissed me until I was dizzy and shuddering. Whatever concerns or insecurities we had about our relationship were reduced to ashes by the passion flaming brightly between us.

I couldn’t believe how different it felt to kiss Sidney. There was nothing awkward or uncertain in the way he captured my mouth, branding me with his insistent kissed. He knew what he wanted and I knew what I wanted. His skilled lips and tongue drove me wild as they ghosted along my jaw and down my neck.

I shuddered and cried out when he bit down gently on the fleshy spot where my neck curved into my collarbone. The sharp sensation sent shivers up and down my spine.

“Harumph.” The loud clearing of a throat and the giggling of children forced us to untangle ourselves.

“Gross,” A young, sandy-haired boy, no older than ten, grimaced.

“It’s sweet. They’re in loooove!” A sandy-haired, pig-tailed girl cooed. She looked about the same age as the boy.

My cheeks flushed a bright red, “Sorry,” I murmured and I buried my head into Sidney’s shoulder.

“Sorry, we didn’t think anyone would get as lost as we did,” Sidney laughed, easily putting on his “interview” self in front of the family of four.

“WOAH!” The boy eyes widened at the realization of who was standing before him, “You’re Sidney Crosby!”

“So I’ve heard,” I always loved how Sidney smiled so easily.

“Is she your girlfriend?” The little girl asked. Her eyes wide at the prospect of love before her. Oh to be young and still believing in white knights and fairytale romances. Little girls were the true romantics. They haven’t learned how dangerous a thing it is to dream or how to suffer and worse how to endure the suffering.

“Yes,” Sidney let go of my hand to kneel in front of the children at eye level, “Her name is Lily. What’s yours?”

“Ava,” She smiled, “Ava. Do you love her?”

Love. What does it mean to love? We love shoes, ice cream, dogs, cats, smartphones. But what does it mean to love someone? Love is more than just an intense liking. It’s-

“Yes. I love her. More than anything in this world,” Sidney’s voice had a weight to it that made me believe what he said. He wasn’t using his interview voice. He wasn’t just saying it to make the little girl smile so wide her cheeks hurt. He was saying it because it was true.

“Even more than hockey?” The boy asked dumbstruck.

“Yes, even more than hockey,” Sidney laughed, “Because one day, I won’t be able to play hockey anymore, but I know will still be loving Lily.”

“Do you love him too?” Ava’s eyes filled with the hope of a fairytale romance right in front of her. Sidney was as close to Prince Charming as it got in Pittsburgh. And for all she knew I was a common girl only waiting to discover I was a princess.

“Yes,” The words escaped my lips before I could even think about the question. I kneeled beside Sidney, taking his hand in mine, “I love him, too.” I ruffled the boy’s hair, “Maybe not as much as hockey though,” I teased.

Love. Love was shockingly similar to hockey. Both force you to balance on a knife’s edge, wondering if you’ll fall and hurt yourself. But once you fall, you realize maybe it’s not so bad. Maybe flying at breakneck speeds and the adrenaline rush was worth the unforgiving cold. Both will leave you battered and bruised. When it’s over, only the ache and pains will be there to remind you of what once was.

But love. True love, when you trust another person with the frailest part of yourself, is undefinable. Love is something undefinable that changes you and if we really did love shoes, ice cream, dogs, cats, and all the crap we say we loved, we’d never know who we were because we’d be constantly changing. Once you love, you love forever. You can’t help it.

As an English Lit major, I remember learning about the poet Dante and his true love Beatrice in college. I found it ridiculous that Dante could love Beatrice and be so hopelessly devoted to her when she was married to someone else and died young. Dante loved Beatrice his entire life, yet he only met her twice.

But I understand it now.

Dante’s love for Beatrice was a part of him, because to him, Beatrice was ideal. Because Dante loved the person she made him. Love has as much to do with how you feel as it does with whom the person is. Dante called Beatrice his “beatitude, the destroyer of all vices and the queen of virtue, salvation.” She was his savior, the epitome of good. She rid him of his evil and made him feel worthwhile. That was what he loved most.

I understood that now.