Illusions

The waiting room of the hospital’s neurology department was depressing at best. You’d think it’d be mentally stimulating considering the part of the body they dealt with, but the walls were bleak and bare, choosing to sport white walls instead of photographs and diagrams. The seats were stained with a cherrywood finish, topped off by cream cushions. It was fancy to a point, veering down the path of monotone and cliche when the only magazines available to read were old issues of Sports Illustrated – but only the ones with a Penguin or Steeler gracing the cover or smiling in a two-page spread. Loren should’ve been used to this setting. She’d sat there countless times, waiting for Sidney to finish up his appointments so they could drive to practice and report the results to Mario. But she had a hard time adjusting to this new pace.

When she first started working with Sidney, it was nonstop action. There was always a press release to be finished and delivered, always a practice or game to attend. The front office would constantly be in contact with her, constantly giving her new problems to tackle. Things were different now. She was home more and worked fewer hours. She fielded questions she never had before, like when fans could expect their savior back on the ice and what the status of his injury was. The only time she was asked to call Mario was “when she heard something,” which meant he didn’t want to hear how much longer it’d take Sidney to get back on the ice – all he wanted was a date to feed the media. These appointments had begun getting old, having been dealing with them for more than half a year, and they never delivered any good news.

Truth be told, she started feeling useless. Sidney was more than capable of driving himself to appointments and being the bearer of bad news on his own. She’d always teetered between being his assistant and his publicist but, lately, the only role she needed to fulfill was the latter. Their combined bitterness surely strained their already rocky relationship and left the both of them displeased with the other. Loren hoped things would improve once Sid got back on the ice but she couldn’t be sure. Her job constantly surprised her; there were never any guarantees.

After an hour and a half of waiting, Sidney and the team physician finally emerged from behind a door. He’d gotten scans taken a few days before and was only supposed to be going over results – something Loren was sure didn’t take that long. But the look on their faces told her those ninety minutes were worth it.

“I’ve been cleared for contact,” Sidney told her. There was a smile on his face that she hadn’t seen in so long. Given the nature of their relationship she barely saw it unless it was plastered across his features during an interview or something of the sort. He never smiled around her.

“Sidney, that’s great,” she replied. She wanted to hug him. She wanted to jump up and down and scream but she couldn’t. That wasn’t her role. His family and friends and teammates were supposed to do that, not her. Instead, she collected her things, happily accepted the copies of his scans from his doctor, and headed for the parking garage.

Sidney wasn’t sure what caused the sudden change in him but he was relieved. Long gone were the feelings of self-pity and depression. Maybe it was because things were starting to look up, even though he’d only been cleared for contact in practice and not to return to the ice, but it was a start. Baby steps, just like everyone kept telling him. The advice, which he once regarded as meaningless bullshit just meant to make him feel better, was finally starting to sink in once the results started coming back increasingly more positive. Maybe optimism was the way to go.

He followed Loren to her car silently, reveling in the good news he’d just received. It was minor, he knew that, but he couldn’t help but feel elated, like he’d soon be back on the ice and playing in games. It was torture to watch his teammates from the background. He wanted to be in the middle of it all, to be the captain he knew he was capable of being. The most he could do was keep a clear head on his shoulders and cheer them on. Beyond being his teammates, they were his friends, and it wasn’t fair to anyone if he took out his frustrations on them. That’s how Loren became his scapegoat. If he was having a bad day, it was her he lashed out on. He didn’t need to establish chemistry with her; she didn’t play as pivotal a role as his teammates did.

“I really am happy for you,” she said quietly as they exited the parking garage. There was a strange atmosphere in the SUV. It wasn’t tense like it usually was, which allowed the awkwardness of their civility to sink in.

He turned to look at her. This wasn’t out of the ordinary, since there had been times they were decent to one another, but it was rare. Her sentiments were appreciated, though. She’d been the first one to hear his good news and that had to count for something. But it’d always been her. She’d gone to every doctor’s appointment and heard every verdict – the good and the bad. The pair liked to ignore this fact. It felt too meaningful to Loren. It was something a girlfriend or best friend should experience, not her. Sidney would’ve agreed had anyone else been there through it all. He told his family to let him get through it on his own, that it wasn’t so important they had to drop what they were doing and come to Pittsburgh. His best friends were too busy doing what he was supposed to be: playing hockey. He had no girlfriend, so who was left to fill the role but Loren? He could’ve gone through it himself, sure, but then it wouldn’t have meant anything at all. He didn’t want that.

“Mario’s going to be over the moon,” Loren laughed.

“So are the press.”

Loren nodded in agreement, knowing this would give them something to talk about for a few days. They’d speculate the time until he returned to the lineup, start estimating how many points he’d accumulate over the season. That was better than them making up rumors out of spite – something Loren dealt with almost daily. There weren’t many, as Sidney was still considered Pittsburgh’s lord and savior, but the few who were especially aggravated channeled their emotions into spiteful rumors. The most bizarre was that Sidney was faking the severity of the concussion, too embarrassed to return to the team that got knocked out of the playoffs so early. Others said he was too busy working out a contract with another team to come back.

“I’m going to be busy tomorrow,” Loren joked. They both knew it was true.

“You and me both.”

Loren stopped at a light a few blocks away from the Consol Energy Center. The awkwardness had disappeared, allowing for a light and fun atmosphere. They were cracking jokes, laughing and smiling. She didn’t want it to end. Once they reached the arena it’d be gone as soon as it came. Sidney would go off and relay the good news while she was left to compile a press release all alone in her office. Usually she relished in the time she spent away from Sidney, but today was different. For the both of them, not just her. They were both reluctant to go their separate ways.

“Tell them they can’t rough you up too hard yet,” Loren told the captain, referring to his teammates who she was sure would try to get in a few cheap shots at practice.

“I will.”

Sidney wanted to say more than that. He wanted to thank her for being there for him through the entire ordeal, for dealing with him when he was acting like a spoiled brat. He couldn’t bring himself to do that, though, and simply walked away from her. He mentally kicked himself the entire way to the locker room – it was no wonder they rarely got along when he could barely bring himself to be nice to her.

“Sid looks like he just got laid,” Cooke joked. The entire team turned to look at him, laughing amongst themselves.

“Finally bone that slammin’ manager of yours?” Staal asked as he nudged him in the rubs.

“No,” Sidney snapped. “I didn’t bone anyone.”

“Typical,” Jordan rolled his eyes. “What else could you possibly be so happy about?”

Sidney was quiet for a moment, hoping to build up suspense. He wanted everyone to be there when he announced the good news, including his coaches and the front office, but he knew he couldn’t stall his teammates long enough to gather everyone.

“I got cleared for contact today.”

“Great, now you can finally fuck her properly,” Jordan laughed. He slapped his teammate on the back before heading toward his locker.

“You’re the absolute worst.”

Everyone laughed, enjoying Jordan’s quick humor and Sidney’s lack of comebacks. He was their punching bag, their person of choice to pick on because he always took it but never dished it back. They were crude and usually awful but at the end of the day they were his best friends.

“I’m happy for you,” Malkin said to him finally. Sidney smiled and finished lacing his skates. He had a feeling today’s practice was going to be a bit rougher than the last few had been.

&&

Loren had just finished putting the final touches on the press release when someone knocked at her door. She figured it was someone from the front office coming to talk about what the doctors had said so she called out a muffled come in! before returning her attention to the computer screen in front of her.

“Bonjour,” she heard, recognizing the voice instantly.

“I thought you’d still be at practice.”

Kris Letang sat in one of the chairs that faced her desk. She’d been given her own office as a form of bribery – she was still undecided when the organization first approached her about working with Sidney so they promised her all sorts of things to get her to take the job. An office on the second floor of their new home arena was one of many but it was her favorite. It’d been decorated to her liking and she found solace in it on the days she found it nearly impossible to do her job.

“Eh, they’re all going nuts over Sid so we got a short day.”

Loren nodded, understanding completely. “What can I help you with, Kris?”

“The guys and me want to do something for him tonight. Y’know, to celebrate.”

Loren shrugged, unsure of what she had to do with them going out. She’d accompanied them before to “babysit,” as Sidney called it, but they never invited her just because. Out of everyone on the team, Kris was the only one she’d consider a friend. He was the kindest and most accepting, usually the only one to pay attention to her when she went out with the team. She knew better than to get overly friendly with him, however. The organization had warned her of such things upon hiring her.

“Okay…”

Kris laughed. “You’ll have to go with us, mon cherie.”

“Not tonight, Kris,” she sighed. “I have to finish up a few more press releases and get them out to the surrounding media outlets.”

“You think Dan is going to let Crosby go out unattended?”

Loren shrugged. “I’m his publicist, not his babysitter.”

“Ah, Loren, come on,” Kris replied. “You’re Crosby’s publicist.”

“And?”

“And if he gets into trouble–”

“He won’t,” Loren interjected, “he knows better.”

“Does he?”

Loren sighed. “Look, I appreciate the offer–” she paused, wondering if you could call Kris’s proposition a legitimate offer, “but I can’t go. Not tonight.”

“C’est dommage.”

Kris left after that, leaving Loren to her work. After all the conversations they’d had with one another, he knew she was keeping something from him. He wasn’t at liberty to ask what it was so he kept quiet and accepted defeat. The rest of the boys would probably be thrilled she declined, since they felt they were under a watchful eye when she was around, never realizing she wasn’t responsible for righting their wrongs and therefore couldn’t have cared less how much they drank or who they left with. They saw her as a threat when she was anything but. She was just doing her job and they faulted her for that.

Back in the locker room, the members of the Penguins were talking animatedly amongst themselves. Practice had gone swimmingly and they were excited about the upcoming preseason game. The playoffs had left a bad taste in everyone’s mouth and they were eager to redeem themselves. Even though they’d never admit it – to the media, to each other, or to themselves – they were nervous about tackling the season without Sid. He was their captain…how were they going to fare without him?

Sidney entered the locker room when everyone was on their way out. He was high on adrenaline, beyond ecstatic that things were finally starting to go his way. Practice went better than he could’ve imagined. On the ice was where he was meant to be, and finally getting there again felt like his trip home to Cole Harbour after him and the team won the Stanley Cup. He couldn’t imagine how good his first game back was going to feel.

“Sid!” Flower shouted, waving him over to where he stood with Tanger and Staal. “We’re all heading to Diesel tonight. You in?”

The captain contemplated their offer for a moment, feeling awful that what he should say and what he wanted to say were on opposite ends of the spectrum. His teammates always had his best interest in mind – it wasn’t always Loren looking out for his reputation – but they had a tendency to get a bit reckless when they had one too many. The first few hours were usually all right: they watched what he drank, who he talked to, who was watching. Then the numbers of drinks they consumed reached double digits and things changed. They no longer watched him, they watched women. They didn’t pay attention to the drink in Sidney’s hand, only to whose dress was the shortest.

And that’s where Loren stepped in. She didn’t only watch after him, she watched over everyone. It went unappreciated, though. His teammates found it condescending, like she thought she was better than all of them as she sat at the bar drinking virgin pina coladas all night long. They thought she felt superior when she woke up in her own bed the next morning, clear-headed and ready to face the day. They assumed a lot of things about her; which ones were true wasn’t of any importance to them. They didn’t care enough to find out.

“I don’t think so, guys,” Sidney finally replied. He knew they’d make fun of him for it, probably make up some nickname to mock his good-boy image, but he’d be subpar company at best if he forced himself to go.

“Pourquoi…?”

Sidney shrugged, deciding to answer Flower’s question without words. He felt guilty for turning them down again but he wasn’t in the mood to go out. Besides, they’d have a great time with or without him; he’d hear all about it the following morning at the team’s skate.

In all honesty, all Sidney could think about was dragging Loren along for another night out with him and the team. She never had fun, no one talked to her except for Tanger, and she was always particularly bright and sunny the following morning when she arrived at his place. He couldn’t do that to her today.

Loren and Sidney bumped into each other in the hallway, each in the midst of their journey to find the other. He grabbed her elbow as she nearly went tumbling to the marble floor of the arena, trying to ignore the way she pulled away from him like he had some sort of transferrable disease. There was an urge on his part to make things better between them, to not be such a negative aspect of her life. She clearly didn’t feel the same.

“Ready to go?” she asked, dusting imaginary dirt from the front of her blazer – the blazer that he couldn’t help but notice hugged her body in all the right places, leaving his mind to fill in the blanks of what he couldn’t see.

“Sure,” he mumbled, hiking his hockey bag higher on his shoulder as he followed her to the player’s lot.

The pair piled into the SUV wordlessly. Sidney was still wrapped up in his thoughts about the woman in the driver’s seat. He wanted to say something to her, to apologize maybe, but he couldn’t, he just stared straight ahead at all the sights Pittsburgh had to offer.

“Loren?”

She glanced over at him briefly. “Yeah?”

“I, uh…I appreciate you being there for me. Y’know, through this concussion thing.”

Loren didn’t know what to say. Sidney had never said anything like that to her before and she didn’t know how to take it. Most of all, she couldn’t decide if he was being serious. He seemed sincere – there were no apparent red flags – but it was so out of character for him that she couldn’t buy it. Sidney Crosby just didn’t say nice things to her. He definitely didn’t say them without ulterior motives. So she simply nodded, acknowledging what he said but made no effort to further the conversation. She would’ve told him it was her job, that someone had to be there to make sure no one damaged Pittsburgh’s shining star.

Had they decided to go out and she had a few drinks in her, she would’ve told him she’d do anything in the world for him if he asked.