We Found Love

Over the next few weeks things with Emily and I remained pretty consistent. I would play games, she would cheer, we would go home, she would pass out, we’d make out, and I’d wake up in her bed. It never got any more serious than that, but it was a pleasant feeling. We were obviously very confused, but we were letting things take their course, and I wasn’t adding any more stress to my life. Unfortunately, the Penguins were eliminated by the Bruins in the Eastern Conference Finals, but I was very proud of what my team and I had accomplished throughout the season. A few days after, Emily left Pittsburgh to head to New Jersey, and some incredibly rigorous physical therapy sessions. The guys never bugged me about the morning they found Emily and I sleeping together, but I also think they realized that nothing serious had happened. Emily and I kept in touch, but we never really talked about her physical therapy. I had no clue how she was doing physically, but she seemed to be flourishing mentally. She had spent a few days up in Montreal visiting Veronique, and she had apparently gone on a “life changing trip”, but she wouldn’t tell me where she had gone. Although we talked almost every day, when I walked by either of the two bedrooms she had occupied, I found myself feeling pretty lonely. I missed the sound of her voice echoing through the house, and I missed how whenever she would take a shower the whole house would smell like burnt sugar and cinnamon. At first I didn’t realize that it was Emily that I was missing; I had blamed my restlessness on missing hockey and feeling bad about the playoffs.

Emily’s Point of View

I adjusted the shoulder of my dress before heading into the Penguins’ locker room. Nobody knew that I could walk again, and I had wanted to keep it that way. Everything was supposed to be a surprise. I had spent 6 weeks in France receiving revolutionary new treatments for my back, but after everything else had failed, I went to the Lourde’s Spring. Needless to say, the miraculous waters hadn’t failed me. I was a new woman, with goals higher than ever before.

Jaws dropped as I flounced into the locker room, my head held high and a smile on my face. My yellow sunglasses were perched on top of my head, keeping my hair, which had grown in again, out of my face.

“Emily?!” Jordan cried from his locker.

“I’m back boys,” I smirked.

Sidney’s Point of View

I couldn’t believe my eyes. Emily walked into the locker room, her head held high, a smile on her face, radiating confidence and beauty like never before. Something had changed about her, and it wasn’t just the fact that she could walk again. She hugged Dan, who apparently had known about her healing but had been asked to keep it secret, before romping over to the rest of the guys. Jordan swept her up into an enormous hug, and Marc-Andre started screaming at her in French. Jack, who had been called up from the AHL for another shot in the preseason, looked like he was ready to cry, and Emily actually did cry as she was pulled into a tight hug by the right winger. Something in my chest flip flopped, and I grinned broadly as Emily finally turned towards me.

“Hey Captain,” she said, and I pulled her into a hug, crushing her to my chest as if my life depended on it.

Emily’s Point of View

Despite all of the life changing things that had happened to me during the summer, as Sidney hugged me everything finally fell into place. I squeezed him as tightly as I could, relishing the feel of his arms around me. They say that distance makes the heart grow fonder, and it was definitely not an exaggeration. I had missed all of the guys, but nobody more than Sidney. He had become my friend, confidante, and, in a way, my secret lover during the past season. I had left him hanging when I ran away to France, but I was ready to fix things with everyone. Jack had already forgiven me for being a complete jerk and ignoring him, and the rest of the guys understood as well. Once hugs had been given and the atmosphere in the locker room had become even more energetic than it had been when I walked in, I grabbed my bag, which I had left outside the door, and headed to my stall.

“Let’s play some hockey!” I screamed, excited to finally get back on the ice.

Unfortunately, they put me in a yellow no contact jersey. The doctors were still puzzled as to how my spine had healed so miraculously, and they refused to believe that the miracle waters in Lourdes had actually performed a miracle. But that didn’t matter much; I was getting back on the ice. My skates felt more at home on my feet than my heels, and as I slipped on my new Jill, which was actually more like underarmor tights with a Jill attached, I felt even more comfortable. On went the hockey pants and the underarmor shirt and the shoulder pads. I wrapped my stick with pink stick tape lovingly, and made sure the curve was exactly to my liking. I pulled on my jersey and my gloves, and pulling my hair into a low ponytail, put my helmet on. I then looked in the mirror and smiled. I had enjoyed the beautiful, confident, feminine, fully mobile Emily that had emerged over the summer, but I had missed the rough and tough hockey playing punk that I was too. With Vero’s help, I had finally learned to balance my femininity and my love of hockey perfectly; it was no longer a tight rope act, but a way of life that made complete and total sense to me. Right before I went onto the ice I kissed the medallion around my neck; St. Christopher, patron saint of hockey players. I wasn’t in your face about my religion like certain professional athletes, but I certainly was no longer questioning the existence of God after all the blessings that my summer had brought.