Alone Together

The Cahill siblings didn’t get along. Don’t ask me why because I don’t know the specifics, all I know is that the first time Sarah introduced me to Bryan, she told me he’d been adopted from an escort and her pimp who’d been taking care of him by selling drugs in Eau Claire.

Then there was The ’95 Incident, which I don’t think Sarah will ever forgive him for. I’m still a bit hazy on the details — she still refuses to talk about it and Bryan is infamous for over-exaggerating everything — but, from what I’ve been able to gather, Bryan delivered a nasty check on his sister during a bout of pond hockey and she wound up breaking half the bones in her body. I don’t think that’s true, as I’m pretty sure it was just her nose and her left arm, but the moral of the story is Sarah’s still bitter about having to spend Christmas of 1995 in the hospital.

If you’ve ever spent any amount of time with hatred-fueled siblings, you know it’s exhausting. Sarah and I met during grade school, the same year as The ’95 Incident, so more than half my life has been spent playing referee whenever Darcy and Hubert — their parents, whose names I’m not allowed to make fun of — weren’t around.

Bryan wasn’t all that bad. A little dumb and beyond stubborn, but he wasn’t as awful as Sarah would try to make you believe. Sarah had the luck of being born first, getting what was good in the gene pool while the getting was good. That was part of Bryan’s problem: he wasn’t nearly as smart as his sister, nor did he have girls lined up down the block to take him on a date. But with the good also came the bad, and Sarah had inherited Hubert’s short temper and Darcy’s grotesque height. Bryan was cool as a cucumber and of average height, 5’9”, but still shorter than his sister.

All of this was why moving day was a nightmare, and why I would’ve rather hired a moving crew than get any help at all from the Cahill siblings.

“You have to take all this shit back to Calgary?” Sarah asked, wiping the sweat from her brow even though Bryan and I had done most of the work. “You can’t leave it here?”

“It’s not like he lives in Sunnydale,” Bryan argued. “There’s no neighborhood watch here. Anyone could break in and steal it.”

Sarah snorted. My apartment complex was gated and required a passcode to get in. In the ten years since the complex had been built, there’d been a grand total of zero break-ins, hence why myself and most of my bachelor teammates lived there. All of which Sarah knew, because she’d been there when I first came to look at the place.

“Why are you even here? Don’t you have dinosaur bones to be digging up in Egypt or something?”

“I’m an anthropologist, you moron. I’ve never even taken an archaeology class.”

They had the same exact argument every summer. No matter how many times Sarah insulted her brother’s profession, he took the bait every time. She had a valid point, though. Bryan traveled a lot for work, whatever it was that he did, but somehow always wound up in Washington, D.C. right around the time the season ended.

“As if anthropology is any better. You practically have a liberal arts degree.”

Bryan’s mouth hung open. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me. You’re really gonna stand there and act like the forty-K you make per year is worthy of praise?”

Sarah was a high school science teacher back home. Mostly the elective astronomy class, but general earth sciences if she absolutely had to.

“I’ll have you know I got a raise and a bonus for being the advisor of the science club.”

“You’re the advisor of the science club? You, the one who almost burned down the garage in the third grade trying to build a replica volcano?” Bryan snorted then, and it was just about all Sarah could do to not throw him from the balcony. “I have half a mind to call the principal and—”

“Who’s ready to take a break?” I interrupted, rubbing my hands together in faux-excitement like taking a break would end world hunger or cure cancer. Both Cahills ignored me, their eyes thin slits as they stared down one another. Finally I sighed, uttering the five words I knew would dissolve any Cahill spat: “There’s beer in the fridge.”

They’d shared a look only siblings could as they dashed to the kitchen, which wasn’t more than a few feet away. It was only one-o’clock in the afternoon; a few more hours of this and the Caps would be looking for a new top-4 defenceman because I’d be dead of a heart attack.

Sarah had always been one of the guys, despite her (very) brief modeling stint during high school. She’d always been a looker, and with Darcy’s height on her side, one of those mall-kiosk modeling agencies were on her like flies on shit. She did two runway shows in Toronto and a few Seventeen shoots before she quit. Apparently her agency found out she was hoarding pint-sized cartons of Ben & Jerry’s in her hotel rooms when she traveled and they really laid into her for it. Sarah told them where to shove it, in five words or less, and was back home by the time school started the following Monday.

Anyway, the point is, part of Bryan’s resentment toward her probably stemmed from the fact that his friends always liked her more.

Sarah turned the corner into the living room but stopped in the middle of the hallway. “Where’s the picture I got you for Christmas?”

It’s a good thing she was so far away because I paled. My body completely sold me out, fully equipped with my stomach dropping to the floor and everything. I didn’t have the heart to tell Sarah the truth, even though the number one rule of being her friend was to always tell her the truth, even if it’d hurt her feelings. This was different, though. It wasn’t a white lie about when I’d be back home from juniors or who I was taking as my date to the draft. We were both older now, approaching 30 more rapidly than I would’ve liked, and after 18 years of friendship, lying didn’t seem like an option.

Bryan knew the answer before I could think up a lie and sent me an I got this look. “It was probably so ugly he tossed it in the trash as soon as you left. Bummer you had to notice.”

Sarah abandoned her interrogation of me and slugged her brother on the shoulder. He winced, and I’d never been for thankful for him. Or Guy Code, for that matter.

“Fuck off and die.”

Bryan grinned, still rubbing his shoulder. “You don’t mean that.”

“Ugh,” she groaned. “You’re such a creep. How are you even related to me?”

“Bad luck.”

At least they could agree on that.

My best friend in middle school always asked how I’d managed to be the only kid in all of Calgary to not have a crush on Sarah Cahill. Even then she towered over our classmates, hair still as blonde and eyes just as curious. Hubert had made her join the basketball team and we were at one of her games when Kyle asked the question, watching her run up and down the court with her Amazon legs.

“She’s just a girl,” is what I’d told him, and those words have haunted me ever since.

But it was the truth. I knew Sarah, really knew her, so I was immune to all her charms and quirks because they were old news to me. I knew all the unattractive things about herself she tried to hide. I wouldn’t go so far as to say she wasn’t anything special because she was, I just never entertained the same thoughts Kyle had, mostly when he first hit puberty and things were really gross for a while.

So I moved on and found other girls to lose my mind over. There was Jessica Dawson in the eighth grade, who I took to the school dance and had my first awkward kiss with in the gym bleachers. We broke up the next week and I was absolutely crushed. When I left for minors, I dated a girl that lived next door to my billet family. Taryn O’Neil was her name and to this day I have no idea what I was thinking. We only hung out a few times before I realized she should’ve been in an institution instead of free to roam around Saskatoon. Then there was Michelle Dowd, who I dated for a few months during my stint with the Hershey Bears. I broke up with her when she started getting a little too cozy with Mathieu Biron.

God damn those blue eyes.

Then came Courtney, who I’d dated on and off during my time with the Capitals until she broke up with me a few weeks ago. She was the reason Sarah’s Christmas gift to me was no longer hanging in the hallway — also the reason I couldn’t tell her the truth about it. To say they’d been mortal enemies would be a vast understatement.

“I think I’m gonna head out,” Bryan said as he finished his beer. “I have a four-o’clock flight to Abu Dhabi and I have no idea where my passport is.”

Sarah was in mock-prayer position when I did that handshake guys do with one another and thanked him for his help. No one bothered asking what exactly he would be doing in Abu Dhabi, but then again our respective careers weren’t of real interest to one another.

“Dealing with you two is exhausting, I hope you know.”

The corners of Sarah’s mouth twitched as she heard the front door open and a complete cheshire grin emerged when she heard it close. “It’s not my fault my parents had to go and mess up a good thing.”

I snorted. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She immediately went back to stuffing things in moving boxes. “Him being born. They should’ve quit while they were ahead.”

“He’s not that bad,” I told her for the millionth time. “He did beat up that weird dude that stalked you during your junior year.”

“I could’ve done it myself,” she argued. “I did take karate lessons, remember?”

“Were you going to high-kick him until he left you alone?”

She made a face at me. “Whatever. I could’ve taken him.”

We worked in silence after that. Sarah was happy to be rid of her brother and I was happy to be making progress. It was kind of pointless, me packing my apartment when I’d be back in a few months, but I felt better knowing my things were safe in Brooksy’s garage than just sitting in the open. Even if no one was going to break in, at least I knew for a fact they’d be there when I got back.

This had been my routine for the last six years. I was a creature of habit; I was also a cheapskate. I brought my most prized possessions back to Calgary with me because, no matter how big my contract extensions were, I didn’t see the point in buying two Playstations.

“So are you going to talk about it or do I have to force you?”

I stopped what I was doing and stared at my best friend. “What?”

“I’ve been here for 18 hours and you haven’t mentioned her once.”

I sighed. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Tough shit,” she said without looking at me. “What happened?”

“We broke up.”

Her eyes rolled. “Really? I had no idea. Did she take the picture with her when she left or am I being optimistic in hoping you packed it already?”

“You’re still hung up on that st—” Stupid picture is what I almost said, but I enjoyed being alive even though it sucked occasionally so I stopped myself. “On that picture?”

“That’s not the point,” she countered, ignoring my slip-up. “No one likes feeling second best, and if you did what I think you did, I’m not going to be happy.”

I winced. Leave it to Sarah not to sugarcoat anything. “Well, what do you think I did?”

A pillow hit me square in the chest as she shrieked loud enough for the White House to hear. “Michael David Green, how could you?”

“I’m sorry!” My hands immediately went to my head to protect it in case another round of pillows came flying my way. “She was relentless!”

“You’re such a douchebag!” she roared. I’d seen Sarah mad before, like when she fought with Bryan, but now she was upset, and when Sarah Cahill was upset, it was game over.

“I’m sorry,” I repeated, more convincing this time.

She didn’t say anything for a long time and it made me feel like the biggest pile of dog shit in the world. I hated upsetting her (I’d become a pro at it lately) and I hated even more that she’d come all this way to help me and this is how I repaid her.

Sarah would never admit it, but I knew she chose her career path with me in mind. We’d both have summers off, to an extent, and she knew we could use that time to spend together. When we were younger, she’d had pipe dreams of working for NASA. It’s all she talked about for ages, and I couldn’t tell you how many replica solar systems I helped her build. Being a teacher was safe, and I knew she truly enjoyed her job, but it was never what she wanted.

That’s also part of the reason she resented Bryan: he was free to do whatever he pleased. So was she, technically speaking, but some invisible force convinced her to settle in order to maintain our friendship.

“She broke up with me,” I said, unable to stand the silence for another second.

“She’s an idiot,” she replied.

I scratched the back of my neck. “I probably deserved it.”

“Why?” she asked, arching an eyebrow. “You cheat on her or something?”

“No, no, nothing like that.” I sighed. “I don’t know, it just wasn’t working out.”

The leather of the couch creaked as she sat down, crossing her legs underneath her. She gestured for me to sit as well and I knew immediately what was coming: Talk Time.

I hated Talk Time. It was something she started making me do after she took a psychology course in college. Apparently it was a proven fact that talking about your problems lessened the burden they caused, so whenever something was bothering me she made me engage in Talk Time. Or something. I don’t know.

“Really? You know I hate this.”

“How does this break up make you feel?” she asked, doing her best therapist impression.

“It sucks.”

“And why does it suck?”

Why are you still caught up on that stupid slag? is what she meant, but for my sake she put the question in more eloquent terms. Thanks, Sarah.

“Because I was — am — in love with her. Plus her timing was awful.”

“Timing?”

“Yeah. I mean, it probably would’ve been easier had it not been right before the playoffs started, but—”

Sarah broke character then, her eyes the size of spaceships as she stared at me in disbelief. “That dumb bitch seriously broke up with you right before the playoffs? The fuck is the matter with her?”

“Sarah, please—”

“It’s really not that big of a deal,” I reasoned. “We never really had a chance. Lundqvist is a goddamn Swedish myth—”

She scoffed, cutting me off. “That’s not the point, Mike. That was a shitty thing to do and you know it. Stop making excuses.”

“It wouldn’t have changed anything,” I said defensively. “Not being broken up with wouldn’t have made me play better.”

“You had the game-winner in Game 4,” she snapped. “Come off it. Look, I know you cared about her, but making up excuses for her and moping around isn’t going to help you get over it.”

I don’t want to get over it, I almost said, but I stopped myself again. You know, that whole I-like-being-alive thing?

“Sarah, I appreciate what you’re trying to do. Really, you’re a saint and I love you to death, but I just need to deal with it on my own, ok?”

Some day far into the future, Sarah would make a great mother. She was nurturing and compassionate and she hated not being able to help people. Maybe that’s why she worked with kids, I don’t know, but the point is it killed her to hear me say I’d fix myself without her help. She’d always been there to clean up my messes and now I was pushing her away. But she’d hated Courtney and she was far too biased to do any real helping anyway.

“Can I at least propose something?” she asked. I shrugged, and she continued. “Well, you don’t have to be back here until, what, August?”

“September,” I corrected her.

“Ok, September. What are you doing until then?”

I racked my brain, trying to come up with something, but it was empty. I was planning on spending the summer the same way I spent the rest: home in Calgary thinking about anything that wasn’t hockey. Playoff eliminations stung, to say the least, and I allotted a large portion of the off-season to getting over it.

“Nothing.”

“Good. I have summers off, too, which you already know, so I came up with an idea.” My eyebrows raised at this and she hurried to continue. “Before you say anything, just think about it, ok? It’s a good idea and I think it’ll really help you.”

“What is it?”

“A road trip,” she said quietly, like those two words would unlock World War III or send me sprinting across the living room toward her in a murderous rage. “The most you ever get to see are hockey arenas and hotels—”

“A road trip?” I repeated. The words felt like bile as they passed through my lips. “What are we, fresh out of high school?” Her face fell as I realized how rude I was being. “I’m sorry. That came out wrong.”

“No, it’s fine.” She dismissed my apology as if I’d never said it. “You’re right, it’s a stupid idea. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

I groaned in frustration. Leave it to Sarah to guilt-trip me into something so bizarre. Maybe some fresh air would do me good. It’d be nice to have a change of scenery for the summer, and spending so much time with Sarah wouldn’t get annoying after a while. It’d be different if she was one of my teammates, who I could only stand in small increments, but she’d been my best friend since we were kids and I went most of the year without seeing her. Maybe it’d be nice.

“When do we leave?”