Ours Now....

Ours Now…

Letter 11
Sid,
The first period is over now with Jon Toews having scored a goal for you guys. I have to say that these games are a lot better now that NHL players can participate. Honestly, what fun is there to have to decide between an Olympic medal game with Olympians and pro-hockey players or just pro-hockey players that are playing for their individual teams? Too bad these games only come around every 4 years.

Three days before Christmas that year, you and I got ready to go to the Penguins Family Skate. Carefully pulling my skinny jeans on over my scar, I paused. Gently brushing my finger of the now even nastier reminder, I sighed. The scar was now a nasty shade of purple, drawing even more attention to it and my tattoo. When they had operated a second time, they didn’t need to disturb the skin near it.

“It’s not that bad,” you whispered behind me.

I jumped. “Jesus! Don’t do that!”

“I’m sorry,” you muttered into my neck. “Are you almost ready?”

“Mhmm,” I nodded. “Just let me get my bag.”

I had only ever been to one other family skate. And at the time, I wasn’t family. I didn’t expect much to be different and nothing was.

I was having a lovely conversation with Pascal’s wife, Carol-Lynne, and Vero when you skated by. I waved but continued to pay attention to Vero. She was telling a very amusing story about the things Marc says in his sleep. You must have found it amusing to grab me by the waist-careful to avoid my scar- and take off skating with me.

I screamed. “Sidney! Let go!”

“Nope,” you laughed.

“Geno! Help me!” I shouted to the Russian.

Geno looked over at me and laughed.

“Don’t just stand there; help me out here, G!” I called across the ice.

He began to move across the ice, careful to avoid the children.

“I got you, Rory,” he said as he grabbed my wrists.

“Oh, no you don’t,” you laughed and started skating faster. “Help me, G. She’s squirming.”

“Evgeni Malkin, if you do what I think you’re about to do, I will make your life a living hell,” I warned.

The Russian chuckled as he let go of my wrists. The two of you grabbed my hands and pulled me around the ice.

“Max! Jordan! Help!” I laughed. It was more fun now that the two of you were racing.

“Does mon cheri need help?” Max asked as he skated past.

“Yes! Jordan, use your massiveness to get them to let go. Max, you can… be perverted or something,” I instructed.

Jordan and Max looked at each other before shrugging. Jordan skated backwards in front of the two of you, making you swerve back and forth. Max being Max, he began telling some highly inappropriate story about him and some girl he met last week. Geno shook his head and tried to avoid Jordan, who was flailing his arms in a way that made him look like a massive octopus. You laughed and looked back at me. Your eyes were bright and seemed to exude happiness. I smiled at you and decided that this was going to be quite possibly the best Christmas I had had in a long time.

I stood looking at myself in the full length mirror that hung in the front hallway. Our families were due to arrive any minute now and I was absolutely nervous. I adjusted my blue sweater vest for the millionth time and redid my headband.

“Rory?” your voice called out.

“In the kitchen!” I said as I rushed down the hall.

“No, you’re not,” you laughed. “Stop worrying. Everything’ll be fine.”

“I know,” I sighed. “But you can’t make me stop worrying.”

“We’ll see about that,” you muttered. You began kissing my neck roughly.

“Sid,” I laughed. “Stop. You’re parents are going to be here.”

And just like that, there was a knock on the door. You looked at me suspiciously.

“You planned that.”

“Now how would I have been able to do that?” I smirked.

“Just go get the door, Mrs. Crosby,” you chuckled.

“Well isn’t Mr. Crosby demanding,” I muttered.