Retrouvailles

Sidney Crosby was rarely overwhelmed. Over time, he’d been able to find ways to deal with the rigors of the regular season and all the stress that went along with playoffs. He knew how to internalize his emotions and how to cope with himself when he didn’t perform, both to his own standards and the standards the rest of the world expected him to live up to.

But none of that could compare to pulling up to Bill’s home for the first time, knowing it was where Loren had experienced everything in her life up until she left for college. It was similar to the feeling he got pulling into the driveway of his parents’ home in Cole Harbour, only this was new and tied his stomach in knots. He couldn’t explain why. It’s not like he was putting himself in Loren’s shoes, arriving back at the place she’d received the worst news of her life, nor was he putting himself in Bill’s, parking in the driveway of an empty home—a home he’d been alone in for the last thirteen years.

Immediately, he felt like he didn’t belong. He’d come along for support but now he was almost wishing he hadn’t. In a moment of narcissism he almost accused it of feeling too normal. He could pull the universally-known-athlete card and get out of almost any situation—no one would dare force Sidney Crosby to do anything he didn’t want to—and he couldn’t lie and say he wasn’t tempted. It was usually someone coddling him, not the other way around.

“Home sweet home,” Bill remarked, twisting his keys from the ignition.

The house was almost intimidatingly boring, with its brick exterior and white shutters. A perfectly manicured lawn set it apart from the neighbor’s and a large oak tree was shedding its leaves all over the place. There was absolutely nothing special about it, and yet, Sidney struggled to find comfort in this.

He followed Loren and her father to the front door, where Bill dropped the hideous orange luggage while he unlocked the door. He pushed it open to reveal more normalcy, as if Sidney should’ve been expecting something more extravagant.

“You can put your things in my room,” Loren said; Sidney was still trying to take in all the photographs that lined the hallway.

Loren’s bedroom was the last door on the left. It creaked as she opened it, like it’d been kept shut for years. Sidney imagined that was probably true. His girlfriend inhaled sharply as she stood in the doorframe, allowing the scene to sink in. She hadn’t told him when she’d last gone home, but judging from her reaction it’d probably been a while.

“You can put your stuff wherever.”

“Hey. Look at me,” Sidney said, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Are you okay?”

Loren ignored the question. “The bathroom’s right across the hall. There’s towels and washcloths in the closet if you want to take a shower. You saw the kitchen when we came in. TV’s in the living room and my dad got Wi-Fi put in when I went to college.”

“Lo—”

“My dad leaves for work around five. I’ll tell him to be quiet but he’s not very good at that, so if he wakes you up I’m sorry. I’ll probably be doing the cooking for as long as we’re here, so if you want something he doesn’t have we can go shopping tomorrow.”

Sidney opened his mouth to say something, anything, but promptly closed it. Loren tossed her suitcase on her bed and dug out a shirt, pulling her old one over her head. He didn’t have time to let his eyes linger on the flat plane of her stomach before she slipped on the clean one.

“Loren.”

She ignored him again. “I’m going out for a few hours. Just make yourself at home. Text me if you need anything.”

Sidney braced himself for a goodbye kiss that never came. Just like a ghost, Loren was gone in the blink of an eye, leaving him standing alone in the middle of her bedroom. He knew it couldn’t have been easy for her, having him here while she dealt with her mother’s death. He had no idea what he’d do if the roles were reversed, so he resigned to sitting on her bed with his head in his hands.

“Hey.” Bill stood in the doorway to Sidney’s left, a bouquet of flowers in his hand. “How’s she doing?”

The captain didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t seen this side of Loren since Pittsburgh. She’d reverted back to her old self—calculated, distant and hollow—and it scared him. Sid understood why, almost braced himself for it, but now he just felt cold.

“I…” He paused. “I honestly don’t know.”

Bill nodded. “Yeah, I expected you to say that.” He adjusted the brim of his hat and locked eyes with Sidney. “It…it’s not easy for her. Her and her mom…I don’t know, they just…they were best friends. And then she was gone and Lo didn’t know what to do with herself.”

When Sidney gathered the courage to look at Bill, there were tears in his eyes. It’d been thirteen years and they were both just as broken as the day it happened. “Sorry,” Bill said, “I’m sure you didn’t come here for this.”

Actually, I did, Sidney thought. “I came here to help her, but—”

“But you don’t know how to,” Bill finished. All Sidney could do was nod. “Lo’s kinda difficult, if ya haven’t noticed.” Sidney got a chuckle out of that. “She’s stubborn as hell and does what she can to protect herself.”

“Trust me, I know.”

“That’s on me; she definitely didn’t get that from her mother.”

“Loren told me a little bit about her. She sounded like a great woman.”

“You have no idea, kid.” Bill sighed, crinkling the plastic that encased the stem of the bouquet. “I, uh…I guess I better go.”

Sidney nodded, not knowing what else to say. He was in way over his head, like he was swimming in a pool of problems that weren’t his own. It was terrifying, having to look out for someone else. He’d been selfish for going on twenty-five years and now he was suddenly expected to…not be.

He rubbed his palms on his jeans, looking around Loren’s room. The walls were mint green and bare, save for a cluster of photographs that hung just above the headboard of her bed. Picture frames littered any surface they could find, including the left-hand corner of a large desk that sat parallel to the bed. Sidney got up to inspect them and the air was instantly knocked out of his chest. In a decorative frame was a photograph of a woman who looked like an older version of Loren: same dark hair, same bright eyes, same nose and smile. Sidney’s heart ached without even knowing her. Then he remembered—it was the same picture Loren had on her desk in Pittsburgh, only then he couldn’t have cared less who it was.

The rest of the photographs varied in subject. Most of them were Loren surrounded by friends, her hair lighter and freckles across her nose. His chest tightened. She was happy in these pictures, her smile as big as he’d ever seen it, but part of him knew she hadn’t been that happy since—not in Pittsburgh, not in Philadelphia, and definitely not with him.

He sighed, returning to his spot on the bed. What was he doing here?


Loren tried to ignore the lump in her throat and the sound of her heart pounding in her ears. She’d been sitting in the car alone for the last ten minutes, trying to find the nerve to get out and join her father. She couldn’t. Her limbs felt heavy and she was having trouble breathing. There was no way she was going to let her father see her like this. He’d spent so long pretending to be strong for her sake; now it was time for her to returned the favor.

With a shaky breath, she unfastened her seatbelt and joined her father’s side. He was kneeling, not caring about the grass stains on his jeans. Silence. The world could’ve been collapsing around him and Bill wouldn’t have noticed. Not here.

“I used to tell myself it’d get easier.”

It doesn’t, Loren wanted to say. There’s always an ache, some void you can’t fill no matter how hard you try. There isn’t a distraction strong enough to remove someone completely from your memory. Sometimes you’d walk down an aisle in the grocery store and smell her perfume; sometimes you’d see an item in a store she would’ve loved; sometimes you meet someone named Dawn and your eyes water, even though the rational part of you knows you shouldn’t be reacting that way; sometimes you meet your boyfriend’s mother and all you want is for her to accept you, but that doesn’t happen and it rips the void open again.

“It still feels the same,” Loren said.

“I know.” Bill sighed, pushing himself to a standing position. “What’s on your mind, sweetheart?”

Loren shrugged. The last thing she wanted to do was confess to her father all the mistakes she thought she was making. They were minuscule in comparison to where they stood. Did anything compare to losing the person you loved more than anything?

“Nothing, Dad.”

“Loren.”

“I just…I don’t know. None of this feels right.”

“You mean you and Sid?” Loren nodded. “What’s wrong?”

“It doesn’t feel like you and Mom,” she answered. Her voice was quiet and pained, almost to the point of being inaudible. Bill’s demeanor instantly softened. Pulling Loren against him, he wrapped an arm around her shoulder and squeezed. “Is that wrong to say?” She was almost hysterical now.

“It’s not wrong, baby, but I’d hate to see ya throw this away.”

“You don’t get it, Dad. It doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t…”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Bill said, wiping her tears from her cheeks. “What’s troublin’ ya?”

Loren looked down at her mother’s grave: beloved mother, daughter, and wife. “You would’ve done anything for her, right?” Bill nodded. “I…I don’t think I would for him.”

Bill gave his daughter a stern look. It wasn’t unlike Loren to rebel, to go against everything that was expected of her. He figured that’s what this was, a natural rebellion to someone finally falling in love with her. “Yes you would.”

“No, Dad, I wouldn’t. I can’t…I—”

“Loren…”

“I wouldn’t leave Philly if he asked me to.”

“He wouldn’t ask you to.”

Loren scoffed. “So we’re going to do long-distance forever? Yeah, right.”

“He loves you, Loren.”

“I know.”

“Something tells me he doesn’t fall in love often.”

“He doesn’t.”

Bill exhaled. “I can’t tell ya what to do, baby. But just think long and hard about it, all right? I’d hate to see ya miserable.”

She wanted to tell her father not to worry, that she knew what she was doing, but she couldn’t lie. Truthfully, she felt guilty. Sidney was in love with her—the do-anything-for-you kind of in love with her—and here she was, telling her father all about how it didn’t feel right. Leaving him would break his heart. Loren didn’t want that kind of blood on her hands.

The drive back to the house was unbearable. Bill kept trying to make small talk, kept trying to divert her attention from the man waiting for her. None of it mattered. No secondhand anecdote was going to ease her troubled mind. As much as Loren loved hearing about her father’s day-to-day activities, knowing what was good from the new take-out place in town wasn’t going to keep her from breaking someone’s heart.

Pulling into the driveway felt like a knife through the chest. Knowing what was waiting for her made her sick to her stomach. Knowing she’d have to tell her boyfriend the truth about what she was feeling…well, there weren’t quite words to describe how that felt.

He was asleep in her bed, his large frame making it look child-sized. She had half a mind to wake him up and get it over with—there was no use in delaying the inevitable, Loren figured—but she knew having more time to mull it over would probably do her some good. Maybe it was a jerk reaction to being home; maybe she was expecting too much. Maybe she was living in a dream world where fairytales were viable.

“Hey.”

Loren winced. Even after just waking up he sounded so happy to see her. “You can go back to sleep. Dinner won’t be ready for an hour or so.”

Sidney inhaled sharply. “I don’t care about dinner, babe. Come here.” She ignored him for the third time. “Did I do something?”

“No.”

“Then what’s going on?”

An opening. She could tell him the truth and risk losing him, possibly forever, because she couldn’t give him the commitment he wanted. Or she could lie and lead him on, making him believe things between them were fine and she was just going through a rough patch. Lose-lose.

“Nothing, Sid.”

“Please don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not. Just go back to sleep and I’ll wake you up when dinner’s ready.”

He was quiet for a moment, just watching her. She was oblivious to him. He could’ve been anyone else, anyone better, and he still wouldn’t have her attention. “Should I leave?”

Loren finally turned to face him then, a 200-pound brick wall of frustration. “Do you want to?”

“You seem like you want me to.”

“That so?”

Sidney rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he stood, making his way to where Loren was standing. He wanted to believe he knew her, truly knew what went on inside her head and what made her tick, but now he was at a loss. He’d been kicked off an airplane mid-flight and had no idea where he was, forced to wander until he found something familiar. There was no familiar here, only foreign, and he was starting to panic.

“I don’t wanna argue with you,” he said, stepping around her to grab his phone out of his bag. “Just let me know what you want me to do.”

He didn’t miss Loren rolling her eyes. He didn’t miss the way his words made her flinch. He didn’t miss the way she was challenging him, almost daring him to walk out on her when she needed him the most. But what good was knowing when it did nothing to stop him?