Flying Towards Change

Three weeks after meeting the mystery man, now the first week of November, my home life steadily kept getting worse, and still is getting progressively worse. I don’t know why all of a sudden my father is getting worse. I could put up with it before, I have been for years, but lately, I’m on my last straw.
We had another argument. He tried to tell me I was useless, while I shot back saying that I’m the only reason we still have some sort of living in this household.
He didn’t like that too much. He threw the glass of beer he had in his hand at me. It shattered on my temple as I tried to turn away. It split the skin and I could feel the blood seeping from it as he hollered nonsense in French.
As I do every time he injuries me in some way, I ran away. I think this is how he knows that he can abuse me like he does, because I won’t do anything about it. I just... run away.
But what can I do? He’s my dad. And I feel like I owe him something.
So this is how I ended up in a park in some neighborhood that is near mine with a bloody head, shivering in just a light coat. And to top it all off, as I brought my knees up to my chest on the bench I was sitting on, it started snowing.
I watched kids and their parents play in the snow around me, watching yet not really seeing. My heart throbbed, and I was trying really hard not to start crying in front of these people. Granted, they aren’t looking at me, but I still don’t want to attract that attention.
With my arms wrapped around my legs, holding them close to my chest, I set my shin upon my wrist. An unwanted tear fell from my grey eyes.
“Why is it that every time I seem to run into you, you’re crying?” that familiar, French accented voice that I’ve thought about for three weeks said.
I lifted my eyes and gazed into those gentle brown ones, no doubt my own as wide as the frisbee in one of the kid’s hands that stood behind him. My mouth fell open as I stared at him, taking in those gentle blonde curls and the perfectly slightly tanned skin. I never thought that I’d see him again. And it’s showing since I can’t seem to form words.
The mystery man looked me up and down and then turned to the three kids that were with the other man when we first met and the three dogs on their leashes. “Go play with the dogs,” he said, and the group of six nodded and ran off to play.
Once they left, he stepped forward towards me. “What happened?” he asked, his eyes suddenly hard yet gentle all at the same time.
He gently touched the open wound on my temple as he sat down on his haunches in front of me. Now I looked down at him. “Nothing,” I muttered, my voice cracking.
“That’s the biggest piece of shit I’ve ever heard,” he said, his voice a growl. But his eyes never changed. He may be angry with my lie, but that didn’t change how worried he was. “Now are you going to tell me the truth?”
I shook my head, and he dropped his with a sigh.
“Will you at least let me patch it up?”
I held his gaze, which I don’t do often. Who was this man? And why does he care so much?
“Ok,” I finally said.
He nodded and stood, heading towards the little building that was like a mini coffee shop. I watched him disappear inside it while I was lost in my confusion about this guy, and he returned soon enough with a first aid fit.
He dropped to his haunches again, and I uncoiled myself so he could have access to my head. He rested one elbow on my thigh while the other pushed my brown hair from my face, revealing the deep gorge in my head.
His touch with the antiseptic was gentle, and each time I winced, he apologized even though he didn’t have to. Once he finished cleaning up the cut, he placed a bandaid on it, and then helped me out by covering it with my hair.
“There. All done,” he said, sitting back with that perfect smile that caught my eye the first time we met.
“Thank you.” I watched the snow fall onto his blonde head.
He stood up and left to return the first aid kit. Once he returned, and stood in front of me, his very presence forcing my gaze to his eyes.
“I never learned your name,” he said matter of factly.
“And you never gave yours,” I shot back, but the attempt fell flat as my voice cracked again and held almost no emotion.
His eyes gazed over the seat next to me on the bench, and then back to my eyes. “May I?” I nodded and he took the seat, settling back calmly, keeping a respectful distance. “Claude.” I glanced at him. “My name is Claude.”
French name for sure. And it fits him. “Alanna. Lanna for short.”
He smiled that wonderful smile. “Nice to officially meet you.”
“Same,” I replied, and then spoke in French. “Where are you from?”
As I brought my legs up to my chest and wrapped my arms about them then, I noticed his eyes widen in surprise, and then he grinned and replied in our native language. “Ontario. But I moved to Ottawa when I was thirteen or so. Yourself?”
“Ontario too. My father and I moved here when I was sixteen.”
He, Claude, smiled at me. His smile was... calming. I don’t know. I just can’t explain it. And I think it’s that caring, sweet smile that had the tears pouring from my eyes. No one has truly smiled at me like that in years. Not since my mom died.
Claude immediately recoiled, looking nervous and unsure, thinking he did or said something wrong. I shook my head at him, choking back my sobs. “You... didn’t do anything,” I said through the tears.
He relaxed and moved close to me, cautiously wrapping one strong arm around my shoulders. Once he realized I wasn’t going to object, he held me a little tighter and pulled me a little closer to him. I leaned into him, uncoiling just enough to do so, and cried against him. His thumb stroked my shoulder through my coat as he whispered gently to me, trying to calm me down. Although it was obvious he had no idea what to do, he stayed calm about it.
Once I stopped crying enough to gain a little bit of control, he touched my chin gently with his free hand. Just the touch caused me to force my grey eyes upon on. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his brows furrowed upwards in a worried way. His eyes and the soft lines on his face reflected his worried tone.
I shrugged, the movement movie his arm as well as my shoulders. “Life sucks,” I mumbled miserably as I tried to wipe the mascara from my cheeks.
The mystery man, now named Claude, took the thumb he touched my chin with and ran it underneath my eyes to wipe away the remnants of my mascara. “Why is that?” He wasn’t prying, his tone just giving away his curiosity and worry.
I shook my head. I didn’t want to answer. Especially not to someone I don’t know. Yet, I already said so much to him... told him things I’ve never told anyone before. “I can’t believe I told you anything,” I muttered after he said that he understood me not telling him why.
“Because I’m a stranger? Or because you don’t tell anyone anything?” There was a hint of humor in his voice.
“Both,” I said. “I don’t have many friends.” I hesitated. Do I tell him or no? Why the hell not, he’s already seen me at my lowest point. Twice. “Or any. I don’t have any friends.”
Claude looked at me, and the way his body twitched as I leaned against him told me he was shocked. “Why is that?”
“I’m too busy.” I looked at him as he tilted his head in that cute way that told me he was confused. “I work two jobs.”
“Why?” He tensed. “Sorry. I’m prying again aren’t I?”
That boyish look of his made my heart clench. “It’s ok.” How could it not be with that adorableness of his? I have always looked younger than my age, and I can guess that he has too. I estimate him at about my age, 23 or so, but he looked younger, just like me. “And I have to in order to support my father and I.” I met his gaze for a second before lowering it. “I told you, my life sucks.”
The thumb that has been rubbing my shoulder since he sat down stopped and he looked at me, studying me. I blushed slightly at the attention, but because my cheeks are already red form the cold, I wasn’t given away.
“Well let’s change that.”
“I’m sorry?”
Claude gave that sweet smile. “Let’s change that. Let me take you out sometime.” He hesitated, thinking over his words. “I mean, I don’t mean to sound forward,” he said quickly, a flush appearing on his cheeks that made my lips twitch into a smile. “I just... let’s be friends. I would like to be friends...” his voice died off at the end of the statement.
I felt the smile on my lips as I wiped the tears from my eyes, the rest of the days events forgotten to the back of my mind. “Ok. I’ll take you up on that offer.” It couldn’t hurt. And he is incredibly sweet.
And I really need some friends to help me get through this turmoil called my life. He’s already helped me so much, more than he knows...
I actually have a friend, which I haven’t really had since high school, and I definitely haven’t had since I graduated from college.
Claude’s eyes lit up and he stood slowly, snow falling off his head and shoulders as he did so. “Then let me treat you to a hot chocolate or something,” he said, his tone wavering slightly with nerves. He switched to English for the kids. “I’m taking my teammate’s kids. Come with us.”
I glanced at the hand that he held out to me, and then took it. Despite the cold December air, his hand was really warm against my iced one. “Ok.” Then I looked at him, suddenly away of the three kids with the dogs staring at us as they realized that hot chocolate was coming. I blushed and dropped my eyes. “Teammate?”
“She doesn’t know you?” one of the children said.
“Shh!” Claude said, then answered my quizzical gaze. “My full name is Claude Giroux.”
Of course. I haven’t really had much to do with hockey since we moved from Canada, but I did know a little about the city’s hockey team, the Philadelphia Flyers. And this man in front of me is their young star.
And the look on his face told me he didn’t want me to know yet, since I obviously didn’t recognize him. He was afraid I’d go crazy since he’s a famous athlete.
So, I obviously shocked him to the core.
“That’s ok,” I said with a nervous smile. “I still take you up on your hot chocolate offer.”
The smile that came from Claude after that was as bright as the sun. “So you won’t freak out on me?” he asked nervously.
“No.” I tapped my shoulder against his slightly, trying to seem a little playful. “I’m not a puck bunny who will be on you in a heartbeat.” The kids snickered and I blushed insanely. I tried to recover what I said. “I shouldn’t have said that in front of them! I’m sorry!”
Claude laughed and shook his head. “They’ve heard it all, being around the rink all the time.” He smiled at me as we began walking. “And I’m glad I can meet someone who I haven’t known before being in the NHL and that isn’t actually in the hockey world that doesn’t go all crazy on me. It’s nice.”
“I’m glad I can open your eyes that not all outsiders are creeps.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Creeps?”
“Yes, I think puck bunnies are creeps.”
He roared with laughter and his brown eyes met mine. I must have had a smile on my face from his comment. “I stick with what I said the first time we met.” I raised my eyebrow now. “That smile fits your face much better than those tears.”
I dropped my eyes, but still smiled even as I blushed. “Thank you for your kind words.”
He looked like he wanted to say something else, but we made it to the little coffee shop and we all started giving our orders.
While doing so, however, I couldn’t help but look out of the corner of my eyes at Claude. Despite finding out who he truly is, I can honestly say that it doesn’t change anything. I don’t feel any different like I thought I would if I ever met anyone in the NHL.
He’s just a friend that happens to play hockey in the NHL.
I repeated that sentence in my head over and over again before I realized exactly what I was saying to myself.
A friend... I have a friend.