Retrouvailles

Sarah was nearly finished redecorating the living room of Max Talbot’s recently-married best friend when she heard a loud gasp, a muted oh fuck and the slamming shut of a laptop computer. Knowing Max, she figured he’d just stumbled across some less-than-ideal pornography, but when he started pacing around the kitchen, context clues lead her to believe it was much worse.

“Does it really look that bad?” she asked, trying to lighten whatever mood he just acquired.

Max’s friend—whose name she still couldn’t remember—had just been signed to a two-year deal by the Flyers. Once most of his stuff was moved in, Max called her and asked if she could help him out by sprucing up the place. He explained that his friend had just gotten married and he wanted to give him something more useful than a blender and EZ-Pass. Sarah agreed on the grounds that he’d introduce her properly rather than a friend of a friend who almost puked all over his shoes at a house party. He obliged.

“Yes,” he dead-panned, then sighed. “Loren’s an idiot.”

Sarah rolled her eyes. She hadn’t talked to her since she and Sidney had left for Canada, so she couldn’t imagine what kind of trouble she could’ve gotten herself into already. “Why?”

“The Internet has discovered her place of employment.”

A hand-blown glass vase dropped from Sarah’s hands and shattered on the wooden floor, spewing shards of glass all over the room. She felt herself go pale and looked at Max for reassurance. “Tell me this isn’t as bad as it sounds.”

“I don’t know,” Max said. “Should we call her?”

“And ruin her vacation?”

Max shrugged. “Do you think it’d be better for her to come home to this mess?”

Sarah moved into the kitchen to grab a dustpan and broom, once again looking to Max for help. He moved the glass to the center of the room as best he could with just his sneaker. Bruno’s place only had one broom. “Do you think she’d take it better than Sid?”

“I don’t know him that well,” Sarah admitted. “I don’t know how he’d react.”

Max sighed, feeling like he was stuck between a rock and a hard place. He didn’t want to be the bearer of bad news or, like Sarah said, ruin their vacation. Sidney deserved to live a normal life and he didn’t want to be the one that brought his fantasy tumbling to the ground. However, he also knew that if anyone would know what to do, it’d be Loren. She hadn’t been hired to personally oversee any and everything that had to do with Sidney Crosby because she didn’t know how to do her job.

“I’m going to call her.”

Sarah’s eyes doubled in size. “Her, as in Loren?” Max nodded and she let out a low whistle. “Yeah, okay, I guess that’s the best idea. Do you want me to tell her?”

“No, I’ll do it. I was the one that found it.”

“Yeah, how did you do that, by the way?”

Max blushed. “There’s this website—like, a hockey gossip website, I guess—and it’s kind of a guilty pleasure. Like the TMZ of hockey.”

“I don’t even want to know,” Sarah replied. She began gathering her things as she spoke, “I’m going to go buy another vase. Text me when it’s safe to return.”

Nodding, Max dug his phone from his pocket and searched through his contacts for Loren. His hands trembled slightly as he hovered over her name. He was nervous; he and Loren were friends, sure, but he wasn’t in the same league of friendship as Sarah was, or Rhea had been. He knew Loren well enough to tell you a few of the things she liked and disliked, but he hadn’t a clue what her reaction would be to his news and that terrified him.

Eventually he threw caution to the wind and connected the call, once again pacing around the empty apartment as he waited for her to answer.

“Hello?”

He let out a whoosh of air. “Loren? Hey, it’s, uh—it’s Max.”

“I know,” she laughed, “I think all cell phones come with caller ID.”

She’s laughing, he thought to himself, this is a good sign. It could also mean she has no clue what I’m about to tell her and that’s why she’s in a good mood. “How’s your vacation going?”

“Could be worse. We’re at my dad’s place in Erie right now.”

Max’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh. You weren’t in Cole Harbour long, then?” Loren made some sound of agreement. “Sid’s family scare you off?”

“I think Trina hates me.”

“No way. If Trina doesn’t hate me, she sure as hell couldn’t hate you.”

Loren snorted. “One, I’m nowhere near as charming as you. Two, you’re not dating her son.”

On his end of the line, Max could hear her rummaging through something. There was a loud clash and Loren let out a string of obscenities, then she apologized. “So, what’s up? Everything ok in Philly?”

Unsure of how to even begin the conversation, Max stumbled over his words like he was about to ask his crush to the middle school dance. He willed himself to speak on the count of five, but when he reached seven and three-quarters, he just blurted out the first sentence he figured made sense: “I think it’s safe to say everyone in the world knows you and Sid are dating and someone on the Internet found out where you work and now it’s plastered all over the place.”

Silence. No words came from the other end of the call, and Max slapped himself in the forehead. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t going to tell you but I figured you should know before you came home to a complete shit show. Plus, you know how to deal with these things and—”

“Shut up, Max.”

“What?”

“I said shut up. I’m trying to think of what to do.”

Max ignored her warning. “It’s not that bad, right? I mean, who cares—”

“Max, seriously, shut the fuck up right now. Please.”

In the background, Max heard Sidney asking questions. He hadn’t heard him before, so he assumed Loren’s shouting had attracted his attention from god-knows-where. Part of him wondered if his former captain would be upset Max had gone to Loren first. Regardless of if it looked to anyone else, Max felt like he’d betrayed him.

“I’ll call you back,” Loren said, and the next thing he knew, the call had disconnected.


Suddenly finding it difficult to breathe, Loren stared at her cell phone until the screen went black and Sidney wouldn’t stop asking questions. Her hands shook, her palms were clammy, and her vision blurred. There was no way she could tell herself she’d imagined the whole thing. As soon as the call disconnected, Max shot her a text saying he hoped she was ok and to call him if she needed anything. A time machine, she wanted to reply, but her limbs had seemingly stopped functioning.

“They know.”

“Who knows? And what do they know?”

“Where I work. Apparently it’s all over the Internet.”

Sidney reacted like he’d just been punched in the chest. He visibly deflated, if not because Loren was now at risk of losing her job because of him again, but because of how empty she sounded when she spoke. No matter how many times she’d told him before that she loved her job, the people she worked with and the life she created in Philadelphia, it hadn’t sunk in until now, and he was instantly ashamed for being so selfish. He’d expected her to drop everything just to be with him, knowing he was unable to do the same for her, and he hated himself for it.

“Loren…”

Their eyes locked; her aquamarine orbs were rimmed with tears, drawing the same reaction out of him. It was happening again. Sidney was helpless again. In a moment of naivety, he’d thought he could take on Pittsburgh’s front office—Mario especially—and make them reemploy her. Now he had no footing and didn’t stand a chance. He couldn’t take on Philadelphia and expect to win—not in the playoffs, and not when it came to his girlfriend.

“What am I going to go?”

She didn’t have to voice what she’d really wanted to say: What if I get fired twice? No one would want her then, being too much of a risk, and anyone that was willing to take her in wouldn’t be anywhere close. They were struggling with the distance as it was.

“Can you call someone there? Try to stop the bleeding before it starts?”

Loren tightened her grasp on her phone and shrugged, unsure of what other choice she had. Sidney pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll call Martin and see if there’s anything he can do to get them to take it down. We’ll figure it out, babe, I promise.”

Nodding, Loren watched him leave her bedroom. Wishing she was anywhere else, she dialed Brian’s direct line at the Wells Fargo Center and waited for an answer. She was a nauseous mess of nerves, shaking and ready to lose her sanity at any moment.

“You’ve reached Joe Siville, Manager of Public Relations for the Philadelphia Flyers. I’m not at my desk right now, so please leave a message and I’ll return your call as soon as possible.”

Loren took a deep breath. “Hey Joe, it’s Loren. I was hoping you could give me a call back as soon as possible. Thank you.”

She recited her number and hung up. Doing everything she could to convince herself his unavailability had nothing to do with her, she waited for Sidney to end his call with Martin, which she could hear despite him being at the other end of the house.

Not knowing her fate was worse than being fired, Loren concluded. At least when she’d been fired, Mario had enough respect for her to do it quickly. The waiting game she was currently playing felt like a band-aid being ripped off in slow motion: she knew it’d hurt, but no one knew how bad.

“How’d it go?” Sidney looked exactly how she felt, like someone had sucked the life right out of him.

“No answer,” Loren answered. “What’d Martin say?”

“He’s gonna try to get them to take it down.” He sighed, clearly aggravated. “No guarantees,” he added in air quotes.

Loren put her head in her hands, wanting to fall off the face of the earth for the second time in the course of a year. Standing in front of her was Sidney, looking like he had a lifetime worth of sins to confess to. He wanted to lie to her and tell her everything would be fine, that there was still a chance nothing was going to come of it.

Sidney tried to rationalize what was happening. People knew she worked for the Flyers—so what? Were they going to show up at the Wells Fargo Center and cause a scene? Were they going to send her boss angry e-mails and demand she be fired for dating an NHL player? Anyone with two brain cells could’ve put two and two together months ago if they’d only known where to look. Her name and contact information had been all over the media guides when she’d gone to Ottawa. She met people there, introduced herself by her name and the team she worked for.

“Can I ask for a prediction or is that a completely bad idea?”

Loren shrugged. “I don’t know. I promised Brian this,” she gestured back and forth between them, “wouldn’t affect my job performance, and now…”

“It’s not, though. It’s not your fault people on the Internet are bat-shit crazy and need to know every detail about your life. You didn’t intend for this to happen. If anything, it’s my fault.”

Loren rolled her eyes. “It’s not your fault.”

“It could be. I should’ve been more careful in the airport.” Silence. “Look, Lo, we’re gonna figure it out, ok?”

“No we’re not,” Loren said, “but I appreciate you trying to make me feel better. Next time you talk to Martin, ask him if he knows anyone in need of a PR guy. Maybe some low-life law firm will hire me.”

“I’ll hire you.”

Despite feeling like her life was over, Loren cracked a smile. It was moments like now that she remembered why she was in love with Sidney Crosby, even if she tried to talk herself out of it. She couldn’t. He made her laugh, she knew he’d do anything in the world to make her happy, and he made her feel like her life wasn’t coming apart at the seams even when it was. They could fight and argue and be furious with one another all they wanted; at the end of the day they’d still be in love and still be head over heels for each other. There was no changing that.

“Seriously,” Sidney said, pulling Loren from her reverie, “I’ll hire you.”

She slapped him in the chest. "I'm never working for you again."