Come As You Are

The rest of the summer was a blur, bringing with it an overwhelming series of changes.

Of these changes, the biggest was saying goodbye to Whitney’s cramped, one-room apartment, credit to heavy persuasion from Max. When he’d first brought it up, she’d shot it down right away. She was already gaining a good amount of child support from Max - she didn’t need him paying rent for a better living environment, too. But Max remained persistent and eventually she came around, agreeing on a nicer, two-bedroom model closer to the university.

He was in-and-out of Philly quite a bit that summer, always making sure to stop by to see Beth whenever he could. He never stayed for long - two hours tops. But that didn’t bother Whitney much - she knew he had a busy life and was lucky to get what she did from him. Besides, it felt easier when it was only her around to parent. Max’s presence brought with it a spotlight that Whitney felt the need to display her best parenting skills - or lack there of - beneath.

It was late August that Max made his final flight to Philadelphia, a few weeks before pre-season camp fired up. From what she’d heard, Max had made a home in the city pretty easily. A spacious, modern condo in one of Philly’s ritzier neighborhoods. It was almost shameful - Max had made a complete city change in what was considered virtually no time at all in the realty world while Whitney had hardly changed zip codes and still had boxes stacked against the walls waiting to be unpacked.

Max was over one night while Whitney worked on unloading said boxes, finally getting around to the ones labeled ‘clothes’ in the bedroom. She didn’t feel the need to mention she’d been reusing the same five outfits for the past two weeks.

“Didn’t you move in a month ago?” Max asked, sprawled out on Whitney’s queen size bed with Beth wiggling between his legs. She wore an black-and-orange onesie that Max had bought, with ‘I’m Told I’m a Flyers Fan’ printed in bold across the front. Max had seemed pretty proud of it, so she’d let him put it on Beth for the night, at least while he was here.

“Yes,” Whitney confirmed, sorting through clothes she’d forgotten she even had. “But I’ve been busy.” And she had been busy. Between being a mom and setting up classes for the next semester, she’d barely gotten time to unpack the bare necessities.

Max lightly laughed as he picked through a box next to him on the bed. “What is this?” she heard him wonder aloud. Her spine stiffened, thinking maybe he’d found the box she’d packed her panties away in. But relief loosened her muscles when she turned around to see him holding up a cropped orange-and-black Flyer’s shirt in one hand, a matching miniskirt in the other. Still, he had a smile on his face that made it seem like he’d just taken part in a successful panty raid.

Whitney shook her head - she’d forgotten she still had that thing. “My old uniform,” she told him, reaching forward to snatch it from his hands. “There should be matching socks in there, too.”

For a second, his brow crinkled as he tried to piece together what she said. A second later, she could almost see the light bulb go off above his head. “That’s right,” he said, leaning one hand back onto the bed and playfully pinching one of Beth’s feet with the other. “You’re an Ice Girl.”

Whitney wasn’t surprised he remembered - that’s how they’d met in the first place, anyway. She’d been finishing up her on-ice practice just as he started his and somewhere between their paths had crossed. Funny how such a simple situation had turned completely upside down nearly a year later.

She nodded her confirmation, folding up the risqué outfit she used to wear in front of thousands of fans. “Was,” she corrected, tucking it up onto a shelf in her closet. “I guess they don’t let you onto the ice if you’re knocked up.”

She didn’t mean it as an insult to Max, but she was sure he’d taken it as one anyway. “Woops,” she heard him mumble. Must have been his form of an apology. The room fell into an awkward silence, one which Whitney continued to sort clothes through. It wasn’t until she heard Max shift on the bed that she glanced over her shoulder at him, surprised to see a mischievous smirk back on his face. “Does it still fit?”

Whitney just threw her head back and laughed.

---

Max had taken Beth back to his house that night after he left Whitney’s. He knew enough about babies to make it through the night, but that was it. Even so, Whitney had packed an overnight bag to the brim with baby supplies and had gone over Beth’s night and morning routines at least twice in full detail.

He went home with Whitney on his mind, of all things. Finding that Flyers suit had stirred up old memories he’d forgotten he had. Sure, after some self-coaxing he remembered their initial hookup, but just enough to know how a baby had been made in the first place. It should be shameful how many spontaneous hookups he’d had during his time in the big leagues. Even before that. But he’d always been a lover of women and felt the need to display it as often as he could.

Now the image of Whitney in that little suit was clearer than ever. Funny how much different she had looked nine months prior to their reunion. He remembered her being blonder, tanner, maybe even taller, somehow. Though that could have just been the skates she wore. It was right before a game-day skate that they’d first met. Him and a few other guys had taken to the player’s bench to watch the Ice Girls wrap up practice. He’d been lucky enough to get a number off one on their way out.

Fate had made that number Whitney’s, evidently the most fertile of the bunch. He didn’t waste time making it to her place after practice. She’d lived in a different apartment then. With a roommate, too, who’d kindly stepped out to give them privacy upon his arrival.

Max’s mind skipped over what had happened after that. He didn’t want to go there, now that he’d seen and currently lived the consequences of their brief encounter. Another part of him felt dirty, like it were off-limits to reminisce about intimacy with the mother of his daughter. To him, it was off-limits, but somehow seeing that little uniform of hers had reignited the lover of women deep inside him.

Beth had gone to sleep in her fold-out crib not long after they made it home. Max was quick to follow, barely making it out of his jeans before he collapsed onto his bed.

His dreams were weird that night, filled with Whitney - in full Ice Girl uniform - pushing a stroller on skates around the ice for an arena full of fans to see. Max was sidelined, watching as the crowed pointed and cooed. He could see himself in uniform, too, decked in the unfamiliar orange-and-black that would soon become the norm.

Somewhere in the sea of fans bearing orange, he could see a speck of black-and-gold in the crowd. He felt himself perk at the familiar sighting, straining his eyes to get a better view of who it might be. His heart sunk when he recognized the face, usually smiling, but now free of any optimism. Marc. He sat flanked by several other familiar faces - Kris, Jordan, Sidney, Geno. All stared in disbelief as they watched the mother of his child flaunt his new life on the ice below.

He woke with a start, accompanied by the sharp cry of an infant. Beth. It took a moment for him to analyze his surroundings and figure out what was going on. And then the dark shapes of his new house came into focus. The foreign shape of the crib came in a little sharper, though.

Back to reality.

Though he wasn’t sure if his dreams were much better.