Retrouvailles

By the time he reached his hotel room, he still hadn’t decided which was worse: losing a teammate and friend in Jordan, or Loren not being there to lean on when the news made the rounds. He knew why she had to go back to Philadelphia, he knew he shouldn’t hold it against her, but truthfully he was embarrassed. They were together. Everyone at Jordan’s wedding knew they were together, and he showed up alone. Sidney Crosby, the world’s greatest hockey player, couldn’t even get a date to a wedding.

He scolded himself for being so stupid. The conversation he’d had with Jordan following the team’s playoff elimination had completely slipped his mind, and when he turned down the ten-year offer, Sidney figured the timing was probably off. Jordan would come around, he told himself—told Loren—but his attempts at being optimistic blew up in his face. Just like they always did.

He peeled off his dress shoes and socks in slow-motion. He undid his tie and the buttons of his shirt and draped it over the back of the chair by the window. His belt slipped through the loops of his pants; they joined his shirt on the chair. Left only in a pair of black boxer briefs, he fit himself between the crisp sheets and flicked on the television, desperate for a distraction that’d never come. Nothing felt right.

Call her, he told himself. She’ll know what to do. But he didn’t. He ignored every voice in his head that longed to hear her voice, that’d do anything to have her tell him everything would be okay, that they’d get through it.

A Family Guy marathon kept him occupied until a little after one-o’clock, when he shut off the television and all the lights and tried to clear his mind enough to sleep. In the dark, all he saw was Loren. He wondered what she’d wear if they were to ever get married, who would be there to witness it, who’d wish them well and who’d sell their wedding photos to a gossip blog for a ton of money. That brought a smile to his face; at least nothing would change.

It didn’t occur to him to be startled by those thoughts. They’d only been together since February and he was already thinking about marrying her—surely that wasn’t normal. Whatever they were going through now, it would pass. And then he’d put a ring on her finger and his story would be complete.

He would be complete.


The Thunder Bay morning was cool and gray, reminding him of early spring back in Pittsburgh, and he was overcome with a sensation of relief. Things felt better.

Still groggy, Sidney rolled onto his side toward the nightstand. It was the relentless vibration of his phone that’d awoken him. Five minutes later, it still hadn’t stopped. He made a semi-conscious decision to murder whoever was on the other end, though whatever malevolent ambitions had come to fruition since he woke up went out the window when he saw exactly who it was that was calling.

“Do you have any idea what time it is?” he asked, making no attempt to conceal the rust in his voice.

“Roughly eight-o’clock,” Mario answered. “I’m guessing you’re still in Thunder Bay, which also leads me to guess you didn’t arrange for the Trib to be delivered to your room.”

“Why would I do that?”

“It’s no use now.” Sidney heard typing on the other end. “The article is on their website, so you might want to look it over. You’ll know what I’m talking about when you see it.”

Sidney sat up, scanning his room for his luggage. He’d packed his laptop on a whim and only because he didn’t feel safe leaving it anywhere else. There was nothing incriminating on it, but he could only assume ‘Sidney Crosby’s Laptop!!!’ would sell for a pretty hefty amount on eBay. He didn’t want to be responsible for someone spending their child’s college fund on something so mundane.

In a moment of recklessness, Sidney said, “This sounds familiar.”

“I’m sorry?”

“You know, someone getting woken up real early in the morning and being told to check out some article on the Internet. I’m not going to get fired, am I?”

“Sid—”

“Just keeping you honest.”

Mario cleared his throat. “I just thought you should be aware of it.”

“Consider me aware.”

Sidney disconnected the call, not at all surprised to see a plethora of other alerts—missed calls, voicemails, unanswered texts, dozens of unread emails. He sorted through the folders of apps on the phone, trying to find the newspaper’s. He’d downloaded it to avoid having to cart a physical copy around or to pay for the paper’s online service, though that was kind of a ridiculous notion. God help him if anyone found out he was skirting around having to pay to read a newspaper.

It wasn’t the featured article. It wasn’t even on the front page, or whatever they called it when it was in electronic form. He probably would’ve missed it altogether if it wasn’t number one on the “Most Commented” list.

He paid no attention to the headline above Josh Yohe’s byline, just the lead. Loren had told him she had to go back to Philly to try and salvage her job, and Sidney had to admit he was a little confused on how doing an interview with his team’s beat writer was providing any job security. It outed her—outed them both—and nearly gave him a heart attack in the process.

The interview must’ve been five pages long in any word processing program and in Q&A format. Sidney didn’t bother reading the responses to most of Josh’s questions—she was his girlfriend, after all, and he knew almost everything there was to know about her—but there was the occasional answer that caught him off-guard. Like how she’d earned her B.A. in communication from Penn State and never expected to find herself in Public Relations.

“Explains why she was so goddamn miserable,” he mumbled to himself.

He kept reading, trying not to get his heart broken all over when reading about her mother’s death. Mentally, he scolded Josh for including it, though it didn’t surprise him that he did. Death was relatable, and having a side of tragedy made Loren more endearing. She was broken. People liked broken because it was real.

And then, in the middle of the article, after she discussed the gossip blog drama and being let go from the Penguins, came the kicker.

JY: From the timeline you’ve given, you and Sidney have only been a couple for four months. That isn’t a long time at all, but you were there to experience his concussion and the team’s elimination from the playoffs this year—both pretty monumental occasions. I’m sure it wasn’t easy to experience those things in such a raw, new relationship.

Fuck you, Josh, was his first thought, and then the fear settled in. This was her chance to slam him, to out him as one of the biggest phonies in professional sports because he’d been nothing but an entitled brat while she’d been working for him. He’d been one again after the playoffs, whining about how the Flyers weren’t supposed to have beaten him and his team and treating her friends like prey. He’d spent a lot of their time together being nothing but an asshole.

LH: You’re right, it definitely wasn’t easy, but I think it’s important to consider the context. Here’s someone whose entire life has been hockey, and now he can’t play and it’s out of his control. You can’t rush back from a brain injury, it’s just not acceptable, and I can’t imagine how frustrating it is to want nothing more than to just be healed and that process be out of your control because it’s not something I’ve ever experienced. Sidney is a competitor, it’s in his blood, and I saw just how much it tore him apart during both occasions to not be able to get what he wanted. I thought that after dealing with his concussion that I knew what I was getting into. We’d been together for a couple months by the time the playoffs happened, and me being employed by the hand that sealed their fate certainly didn’t help.

Did it force you to see him in a different light, then? Because you had to experience so much bad with him without really having the time to experience the good?
No, I don’t think so. He’s a very “what you see is what you get” type of person. He wears his heart on his sleeve and his honesty is raw. He won’t always come out and tell you how he feels, but you can see it. Dealing with his concussion, I saw a fighter. He’s strong, he’s determined, and that’s the kind of person you want to be with—someone who isn’t going to leave when things start to get difficult, as is the case now with everyone finding out about me and our relationship. It’s incredibly stressful, and most people would balk at the first sign of that, but not him. I have more respect for him than anyone else I’ve ever met.

He didn’t know how to react. Should he laugh, cry, call Josh and tell him to go fuck himself or sing his praises? His innards were a jumbled mess of fucked-up, but that didn’t stop his heart from growing three sizes as if he was the Grinch. She loved him. She didn’t bash him or out him as a con artist, and now that it was out there, there was no taking it back. She was proclaiming her love for him in the most reaching way. Her words were in homes and driveways all over Pittsburgh now, all over the world through social media and webpage hits.

You’ve both been tightlipped about the relationship up to this point. What changed that made you want to go public?
I wasn’t sure I could handle everything that came with being with him at first. We didn’t exactly get along when I was working in Pittsburgh and I was apprehensive that it’d be more of the same. But then people started finding out slowly—god bless the Internet—and I started getting harassed at work, so I thought it’d be best to address it now.

Surely the Flyers can’t be happy you’re dating a Penguin.
[Laughs] Probably not, but I think I’d be hard-pressed to find any job that’d be okay with the harassment. I made a promise to not let my relationship interfere with my job performance and now that’s been compromised.

Sidney stopped reading then, exiting the app and locking his home screen. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to compose himself. He was alone, but he felt like every person in the world was waiting with baited breath for his response.

“Christ,” he muttered. Then he threw the sheets off his legs and got up to take a shower. Nothing he could do about it before nine A.M.


Monday was upon her before Loren was ready to tackle it. Sidney hadn’t said a word to her, leaving her anxious and worried that doing the interview with Josh might not’ve been her best move. The rational part of her brain—the part that knew Sidney better than the rest of her brain gave her credit for—told her she’d know if he was upset. He’d have no trouble relaying that message to her. She’d just thrown him for a loop, and now she’d been thrown for one as well. She wasn’t ready for it to be Monday yet.

Along with Sidney, Joe also had yet to speak a word to her. If her stunt with Pittsburgh’s leading newspaper hadn’t been enough to put out the fire at work, she spent the weekend preparing herself for another termination. At least this time she’d be able to see it coming. At least this time it’d be done by her own hand, and at the end of the day she’d still have something to show for all her trouble.

Stepping out of the elevator, all eyes were on her. She’d expected this, but it didn’t take away the sting. She wondered what her coworkers thought of her now. If they pegged her for only being after a husband before, surely that suspicion amplified by the hundreds. Their opinions don’t matter, she reminded herself. Sidney didn’t decide how he felt about her based on their thoughts.

Joe was at his desk when she stopped in the doorway. Looking up, he waved her inside and motioned for her to take a seat. “Good morning, Loren. I saw you had a busy weekend.”

Loren stayed quiet, choosing instead to communicate via eyebrow gestures. “I’m gonna cut to the chase here: I’ve decided not to let you go.” Loren’s jaw was agape. “But you’re still on a short leash. We can’t have you distracted.”

Too late, Loren thought. It’d only taken a brief scolding from Sarah to make her realize no matter what she did, she wouldn’t be happy. Not here, at least. Not away from Sidney. It didn’t matter if she worked eighty hour weeks and killed herself with overtime, her mind wouldn’t be on her work.

“I can’t accept that.”

Joe, who’d been looking down at a stack of papers on his desk, did a double-take. “I’m sorry?”

“I…I love what I do. I love working here and I love this team, but not enough to sacrifice my relationship.”

“Loren, I’m not following.”

She didn’t have the courage to look away from his face to the team décor on the walls. She’d lose her nerve, as if quitting her job without a backup plan wasn’t reckless enough. “I’m going back to Pittsburgh.”

“Back to the Penguins?”

“No,” Loren shook her head. “Just going back home.”

Joe didn’t bother looking defeated. “Are you sure?” Loren nodded. “Well then, I won’t keep you any longer.”

Thanking him for the opportunity, Loren shook Joe’s hand and booked it out of the building. She didn’t want to stick around and change her mind. She didn’t want to let the heartbreak settle, didn’t want to think about how she was going to tell everyone she was leaving. But that was the only thing she could think about on her drive home. Claude, Max, Scott—they’d all been so welcoming and kind. And now she’d have to let them down.

Sarah too. God, what was she going to tell her? She’d been the closest thing Loren had to a best friend in years, and she was leaving just as quickly as she’d shown up just because of a guy. Her stomach churned just thinking about it.

Unlocking and pushing open her apartment door, she expected Florence to instantly be at her feet, rubbing against her legs. Nothing but silence greeted her. Instead, she found her kitten asleep on the chest of a someone watching television on her couch.

“I didn’t expect you to be home until dinnertime.”

Tears instantly sprang to her eyes. “What are you doing here?”

He turned to look at her. “I told you I’m spending my summer with you.” He glanced at his watch. “Wait, why aren’t you at work?”

“I…” Her voice cracked and tears spilled down her cheeks. “I quit, Sidney.”

“What?”

“This morning. I just got back, obviously…”

“But I just got here. When could you—”

She approached him slowly. “They didn’t fire me, but I couldn’t stay.”

Loren couldn’t peg his expression. He was blank—a lot like how she felt. “Why?”

“To be with you.”