The Fleury Life

10-3...
3-2...
Now that is more like the team that I know and love. And my man was definitely back to his normal self. They knew they could do this...
But I think it was my pregame “song” that got them pumped up for game four and the 10-3 victory.
I walked into the locker room that night, looked at my brother who grinned and nodded, and put on Eminem’s ‘Not Afraid’. I started rapping in the middle of the room, and slowly they began to get pumped up, and joined in with me on the chorus. When it hit the lyric that starts with “no more drama from now on...” and it just gets really fast, I stood in front of Tanger and he rapped it just as quickly with me, getting everyone to laugh. We were pretty good if I may say so myself.
Everyone in the room was happy, and they went out to kill it. They made those Flyers drop down to their knees and beg for mercy.
But... it didn’t last long.
I watched in horror as the Flyers scored, score, and scored again. By the end of the game, they gathered 5 goals compared to our one- Geno’s only tally for us.
I almost started crying, but I put on a brave face as Tanger took my hand and helped me onto the ice. It was determined at the beginning of the season that if we lost a Playoff series, I would join in on the handshake line.
So there I was, walking carefully on the ice. Marc took my arm as Tanger stepped away and I stood behind my husband. I could tell by the set of his shoulders that he was upset. I wanted to hug him, but not here, not now.
I shook hands with the Flyers, most of them saying something polite to me, to which I returned pleasantries. But I’ll be honest, I was more focused on Max who was towards the back of the lineup. He and Sid hugged, he and Duper hugged, but quickly. Same with Jordan and Tanger. Quick, friendly hugs. But it was different when Marc and Max faced each other. They gave each other real hugs, ones that meant something to the both of them. Max even whispered something into his ear.
I smiled slightly. They are friends, no matter what happens, they are friends.
I was prepared to just shake hands with Max, and I did smile politely, but as soon as our hands met, he pulled me towards him and hugged me tightly. “I’m sorry,” he said softly.
I pulled away and looked at him curiously. “Excuse me?” I asked, confused.
“I’m sorry this is the way it had to end. I wish I didn’t have to cause you guys so much pain. I never thought there would have been... this many goals in a series.” His dark eyes held mine. And then he hugged me again. “I will see you soon enough. Ari’s wedding yes?”
“Yes.” Kris Letang’s little sister getting married in Pittsburgh at the end of June. “And when the baby is born. I hope.”
“Of course. I love you, Princess, I do.”
“And yet you leave me to deal with an upset team, but more importantly, and upset husband.”
Max smiled slightly as he looked down at me. I could just picture the announcers going crazy, wondering why this ‘handshake’ was so long. Let them wonder. Max is my friend, and that won’t change, even if I am upset at him.
He was about to say something when a chant went up through the crowds. I looked around, my face setting into one of anger as Max’s hand around my arm tightened in grip.
“We don’t like you,” they chanted, and not in a nice way, at all. It was the chant that yelled at my brother. But this wasn’t towards him. This one was towards me. Because here I was with Max on the ice still while everyone else was heading down the locker rooms.
“Don’t listen to them,” Max begged. But it was too late, and he knew it.
I pulled myself from his grip and headed towards the bench to go down the runway. Johnny was waiting for me at the opening. I looked over my shoulder and spoke to Max, feeling sick to my stomach. “Call me when you’re fans aren’t being such assholes,” I said, choking back tears.
My last glance of Max was skating away, not looking like the happy person he should be for winning a series.
I walked down the runway with Johnny on my heels, wiping away tears. “Erra, wait a minute.” I kept walking. “Sierra!”
I halted and spun around. “What?”
“Don’t listen to the fans,” he said, coming up to me.
“They have no right!” I yelled, throwing my hands up in the air. “What did I do to them? I’m not a player anymore. I may be apart of the team, but I’m not apart of the guys on the ice. All I was doing was talking to a good friend, and they get all vicious.” My lip quivered.
“They will be mean to anyone in the Penguins organization.”
“I just wanted to talk to my friend...” I pressed my back against the wall and slid down to the floor, putting my head in my hands and just started crying.
“This is more than just a crowd being stupid,” said a new voice.
I looked up and my husband was crouching before me. His dark eyes sad and distant, but also worried.
And it was just that one look that made me fling myself into his arms. “Shh, he said softly, holding me close.
“This was your year,” I cried into his chest.
“I was just not good enough.”
I punched him in the shoulder, knocking him off balance. “Ouch!” he said, clearly shocked. “What was that for?”
“It is NOT YOUR FAULT!” I shouted at him. His eyes widened in surprise. Even Johnny shuffled away quickly, leaving us alone. “Stop blaming yourself! The whole team played like shit. I can’t just sit here and let you blame yourself when all the guys in front of you played like they did back in the world juniors! I won’t watch you beat yourself up, because Marc-Andre, I am an emotional wreck and I can’t watch you be pissed off at yourself. Because I love you, Marc. I love you more than anything, and I don’t want you to hate yourself because it wasn’t your fault.”
“Sierra~”
I continued ranting through my tears, positive my mascara was a black stream down my cheeks. “Please stop beating yourself up over this. It’s just hockey. I know it’s your life, as it is mine and every other person’s in that locker room, but it’s still just hockey. It’s just a job, a career. I can’t watch you be so upset over that because I want my Marc, my happy, lovable, jokester husband.”
“Sierra~”
“I just want my husband.”
Suddenly, Marc’s lips were on mine, kissing me softly, loving. His palms on my cheeks gently, his thumbs wiping away the tears streaming down my face.
He pulled away slowly and looked into my eyes. “Sierra, I’m here baby. I’m here.” He kissed my forehead. “I’m here.”
“I’m sorry,” I whispered as he held me against his chest.
“No, ma chérie, you have nothing to be sorry for.” His fingers stroked my long hair. “I understand you can’t control your emotions right now.”
“You did this to me,” I said, putting a joking tone into my voice, sniffing in the process.
He heard it and laughed a little dryly. “I suppose I did, in a way, didn’t I?”
“I hate Max.”
“You love Max.”
“I hate him right now.”
“Well, so do I.”
“Can we beat him up this summer?”
Now came a real laugh. “Maybe.”
“Ok. Can we just stay here for a while? I don’t want any of the other guys to see me like this.”
“Of course, love.”
And so we just sat there in each others’ arms, taking in the comfort of the other person.