Illusions

Loren had successfully packed her entire bedroom into three separate boxes. Clothes took up two and miscellaneous knick-knacks filled the third. She hadn’t bothered to tackle the kitchen or living room yet; her landlord had given her a week to clear the apartment. She figured that was a fair amount of time. After all, she was abandoning her lease early. Out of guilt she paid for the following month’s rent. Even though she wouldn’t be there, she figured whoever rented the apartment next would appreciate the gesture.

The desk under the window (which overlooked the complex’s “garden” that was, most of the time, nothing more than an attractive collection of dead ferns) was filled with paperwork Loren had no urge to look through. She knew what was in there: employment documents, copies of her contract, billing statements and other various reminders of the life she’d made in Pittsburgh. Forgetting was going to be hard. Throwing everything into a large trash bag would be easier than dragging it with her, she’d decided. So far her plan was working.

But it didn’t do much to ease what she already knew. In only a few days she’d be leaving Pittsburgh and moving to an entirely new city. She’d have to make new friends and leave behind the ones who stuck by her side. However, it seemed as though they’d already removed themselves from her life. Sidney was the only one who thought to keep in touch and he hadn’t spoken to her since he walked out the front door the night before. She didn’t expect him to. He was bitter, turned away by his inability to change her mind. If Loren wasn’t so stubborn she may have listened but somewhere deep down she knew staying wasn’t an option. She had to do this for herself.

It was nearing six-o’clock when Loren finally threw in the towel for the night. She wanted nothing more than to soak in a hot bath and hire someone to pack up the rest of her apartment. When she’d made the final decision to accept the job offer, she immediately began looking for new places to live. This proved difficult. She wasn’t due to start her new job until after Christmas; the front office figured that’d give Loren enough time to find a new apartment and to get a proper feel of the city. That was almost exactly a month away.

Her phone vibrated against the tile of the kitchen counter and Loren cringed. All she wanted was to hole herself up in the apartment and forget about the outside world. She didn’t want to remember hockey existed; the same went for the city of Pittsburgh. She’d bet hundreds — probably even thousands — of dollars that she was the only one sharing those emotions that night.

Sidney Crosby was back on the ice.

Ignoring it was impossible. Dan had made the announcement the night before and Loren could swear riots immediately erupted in the streets. The city was on fire, high on knowing their captain was back. The face of the NHL was finally back in action. This was the night everyone had been waiting for since January. It felt like a dream, like they’d wake up and Sidney would still be out indefinitely with a concussion. Loren was indifferent. The second she lost her job she was able to detach herself from it. Hockey had never been her thing, so her excitement for Sid was platonic: he was nothing more than a friend who had overcome a serious injury to return to doing what he loved.

One New Message: Sidney
Tickets for you at will call if you want them.

Most people would die. If they were already dead they’d roll over in their grave and die again. Sidney Crosby had that effect on people, as she’d witnessed countless times before. Girls would immediately erupt into tears, guys would stiffen their shoulders and try to appear buffer. At the end of the day, so many people wasted time trying to impress him. And here he was, texting her and offering her tickets to a game he’d rather die than have her miss and all Loren did was delete the message and set her phone back down on the counter.

&&

“Is she coming?”

“I don’t know,” Sidney shrugged. Jordan was looming over him, an expectant look on his face.

No one felt worse about Loren’s unfair unemployment than he did. Maybe if he would’ve handled his one night stand differently it never would’ve happened. It was no mystery who leaked the story to the press; it was also no mystery who they’d never see in the locker room again. Robbie was on the top of everyone’s shit list. Even those who didn’t know Loren or the extent of the situation were gunning for him. He’d disrupted the flow of the team. No one got away with doing that.

“Well, did she answer?”

“No.”

Jordan pulled a face. “Unreal.”

“What?”

“You,” Jordan laughed, though he knew it probably wasn’t the best time. “It’s your big night back and you’re hung up on a girl.”

“I’m not hung up,” Sid argued. “I just — I don’t get it.”

“You mean you don’t understand why anyone would turn you down.”

“No, I get that part,” he replied easily. “What’d I do wrong?”

Jordan shrugged. “I don’t know. You were an enormous asshole for a few months. That could’ve turned her off.”

“I apologized for that.”

“Doesn’t matter. Girls are weird that way, Sid. You pull their hair in kindergarten and they use it as an excuse not to marry you.”

“Who said anything about getting married?”

“Christ,” Jordan said, shaking his head as he made his way back to his stall.

The Pittsburgh Penguins were scheduled to take the ice in only thirty minutes. Sidney felt like a rookie again, the puck about to drop in his first NHL game. Everyone was congratulating him, he had the entire city in his corner, and he felt on top of the world. Even the press left him alone throughout most of the day, only stopping him once to ask how he felt going into the game.

Anxious. Nervous. Excited. Relieved.

Almost his entire career in Pittsburgh had been centered on him. They’d keep him there forever. They’d retire his number and he’d be inducted into every Hall of Fame possible. His life had been set out for him the second he signed on the dotted line. And that was okay. It was everything he could’ve asked for and more. But he wanted more than hockey. Beneath the superficiality of the life he had to live in the public eye, he wanted something real. Hockey was real but his teammates always told him you can’t go home to your career after a bad day.

He’d been having bad days for the last ten months.

His comeback was supposed to turn things around. He was supposed to be elated...and he was. He just couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing. Realistically nothing was. His family was going to be amongst the masses, his friends would be sitting beside him on the bench, and his most loyal supporters wouldn’t miss it for the world, whether they’d be watching from the stands or their living rooms. But not knowing where Loren would be watching from (if she would be at all) hurt the worst. She was the missing piece.

He felt foolish that he depended on her so much. Hockey should’ve been all he wanted; the only thing that mattered at the end of the day. It should’ve been his first thought in the morning and his last thought before he went to bed. Until his concussion it was. Then Loren came into the picture and all bets were off. He fell asleep wondering what it’d be like to fall asleep next to someone. Not necessarily Loren — anyone. He began to feel lonely. Falling in love began to seem like a good idea rather than the reason behind World War III.

“You ready, Kid?” Dan Bylsma asked him. He wore a proud smile, something like a father would, and Sidney forced any thoughts that weren’t hockey-related from his mind. “Tonight’s all about you. Play your game, Sid. Have fun out there.”

All Sidney could do was nod. He followed his teammates out of the locker room and stared to the exit of the tunnel. The only thought that registered was how loud it was out there. And they were all screaming for him.

&&

Loren stared at the television without an ounce of emotion. There were thousands of people screaming their hearts out, waving those unmistakable signs, but she felt nothing. Empty, maybe. Definitely hollow. She should’ve been there. She should’ve been in the first row screaming the loudest. She coached Sidney through the most difficult, darkest ten months of his life and she was missing her reward. But she couldn’t bring herself to move.

He wanted her there. He went out of his way to ask for her support and she told him no. Had she given enough? Too much? Was there anything left for her to give? She was spent. Her mind was focused elsewhere — everywhere it shouldn’t have been. Every thought was about leaving. She was already homesick.

His phone went straight to voicemail; Loren expected that. After all, the man in question was skating in circles on her television. She took a deep breath, tried to steady her breathing, and bid her final farewell.

“Hey, Sid. I, uh, didn’t really plan this out so I apologize if I make no sense, but I wanted — I needed to call you.” Her breath caught in her throat and the simple act of being interrupted sent her over the edge. That all too familiar lump formed in her throat and the tears welled in her eyes soon after. “I’m sorry. I should be there. I’ve been with you through the entire journey and I’m missing it now. I’m so sorry, Sid. You deserve so much better — so much more than me.

“You deserve someone who will stick by you no matter what; someone you can confide in and doesn’t give you shit when you’re already down. I was never that person for you. I was never the person you needed me to be and I can’t apologize enough for that. I made your life so much harder. Your fucking brain was broken, for fuck’s sake, and I still gave you shit. The entire team, not just you. I put Kris and Jordan in positions they never should’ve been in. I fucked up everything and I know that. Just — just make sure they know I’m sorry, okay?

“And last night — I don’t know what happened. I don’t know why you kissed me or why I kissed you back. All I know is how I felt. For that split second I was happy, Sid, for the first time in so long. You kissed me and I forgot about everything — that I just got fired, that I lost everyone who ever meant a damn thing to me, that in just a few days I’ll be leaving Pittsburgh and I won’t be able to look back. That scared me. It scared the fucking hell out of me and I don’t know why.”

She stopped to wipe her eyes. “Please don’t think I would’ve chosen this. Working for you was the hardest thing I’ve ever done but getting fired made me realize it was also the most rewarding. You’re so much more than people give you credit for. You’re an incredible human being, Sidney Crosby, and I’m lucky to have met you. I hope this isn’t the end.”

With that, she ended the call and finished packing.

&&

Sidney Crosby was a lot of things. He was hardworking, honest, and kind. What he wasn’t, however, was prepared. His return was a big deal, that much was to be expected, but he wasn’t expecting a four-point kind of big deal.

There was nothing special about his first goal. It was routine, a move he’d used to score countless goals. But it meant the most. Was it the Golden Goal? No, but it was ten months worth of grief and waiting. If nothing else, he deserved that goal. The response alone was enough to bring him to tears.

And then something actually did bring him to tears.

Once the locker room cleared out, he dug in his bag for his phone. He sorted through the countless texts and voicemails until he found the only one that mattered: Loren’s. By the time the message was over, his voice was broken just like hers. They shared similar lumps in their throats and they were both broken. Until then, Loren leaving wasn’t real. She’d been fired and she’d no longer be working for him but she’d still be right around the corner from Consol just as she’d always been. Reality hit him in the face like a ton of bricks.

It also prompted him to rush out of the arena and drive the short distance to her apartment without sparing a second to think. He didn’t bother with the elevator, just took the stairs two at a time until he reached her floor. The apartment numbers decreased in two’s until he reached hers: 483.

And then reality hit him again in the form of a pink Sticky-Note that was barely hanging on to the surface of the door. There, in Loren’s neat script, were two simple words:

Congratulations, Sid.