Stay, Stay, Stay

The plane touched down in Charlottetown shortly after noon. I had decided not to tell my parents and instead surprise them. Simon greeted us at the arrival gate, holding the hand of a very pregnant Helen.

“Welcome home, little sister.” He said, hugging me tightly.

“Thanks for picking us up,” I let go of him and turned to Helen. Her hair was pulled off of her face and despite her exhaustion she looked radiant. “So now that I’m here you have permission to go into labour,” I laughed, giving her an awkward side hug, trying not to squish her stomach.

“This baby better have only been waiting for Auntie Bea and not for the new year,” she ran her hands over her protruding stomach which was covered by her heavy winter jacket. Beside me Sidney stood nervously. He’d confessed on the plane that he was anxious about meeting my family. I laughed and told him I knew the feeling.

“This is Sid,” I introduced him casually, turning my face up towards him. “He’s kind of a big deal.”

“You play badminton for some big team right?” Simon teased, shaking Sidney’s hand.

“We came in second in the city,” he played along.

Helen stared at the two men in awe. She blushed as Sid took her hand in his, shaking it gently. “I’m sorry,” she stammered. “It’s just that you are so much better looking in person.” Sidney laughed politely and Simon shook his head in disbelief.

“First time meeting the guy and that’s what you introduce yourself with?” he patted her shoulder affectionately. “Are we going to blame that on baby brain?”

“No,” Helen scoffed at my idiot brother. “I’m just being honest.”

I told Helen I agreed with her and we headed out to the car, leaving the guys to get our luggage.

“I want to hear everything,” she grasped my arm excitedly as we left the building.

Simon and Sidney met us at the car shortly after I’d finished filling Helen in on the last few months. She was asking me the dirty details of our sex life when the doors opened and the guys climbed in, letting the cold air in with them. Simon, John, and our parents all lived within a kilometer or two of each other about twenty minutes out of the city. Cherry Valley wasn’t a town so much as an area. A collection of fields and old houses with one church and two cemeteries. Morbidly that was one of my favourite things about the Island, you were never far from a cemetery, somedays if left like their were more graves cemeteries than there were people. I peered through the foggy window as the familiar sights from my childhood surrounded us. Schools I’d gone to, parks I’d played in, and the boardwalk where I’d spent the summers of my teen years serving lobster to loud tourists. I knew every backroad, every sidewalk, and most of the coastline, but it felt like a lifetime since I’d stared off into the ocean hoping there was more to my life than farms and fisheries.
Sid squeezed my hand as the scenery quickly changed from buildings and ocean, to fields and ocean. I was anxious about introducing to him to my family. I had no doubt that they would love him, but having never taken a significant other home I didn’t know what to expect. I could only guarantee two things, the first, that there would be a lot of family come Christmas day, the second that most of them would be drinking. I shuddered to think what would happen tomorrow, I’d have to politely tell all my relatives to keep their mouths’ shut and not leak any pictures to the press. Again, things that Millie and I had never worried about.

We turned onto the dirt road that lead to my childhood home. Instead of red dirt, it was covered with a thick layer of tightly packed snow. The white farmhouse came closer and squeezed Sidney’s hand tighter, smiling at him giddily. It looked the same as it always had, a veranda on the front with two chairs and a small iron table- the chairs had been stripped of their cushions-, a cluster of trees to the right making a small orchard, and the mailbox a few feet from the front path with KELLER printed in thick black letters. Ironically the mailbox was supposed to distinguish our mail from the others in the area, but the two closest houses also had KELLER on their mailboxes. In their youth, my brothers would reconfigure the ‘E’ to look like an ‘I’ and for brief periods we were the KILLER family.

Hand in hand Sidney and I approached the house, leaving our bags in the car to be worried about later. Helen and Simon would enter first, acting as they usually would and we would follow in the same manner. Sid leaned down to me and kissed me quickly before the door opened, winking and smiling as we walked into the house. It smelled like my childhood. Musk from the age, smoke from the fireplace and vanilla from my mothers candles. I inhaled deeply, feeling a warmth spread over me and stripped off my jacket and boots.

“What are you two doing here?” I heard my mother ask, her voice coming from the kitchen. “I thought you weren’t coming until supper.”

“What? We can’t come early? You want us to leave?” Simon called back teasing her.

“Oh hush. Come in here and tell me if you think this is enough wine for tomorrow.” I giggled at her nonchalance. She had no idea we were there.

We made our way down the hall to the kitchen where my mother was busying herself with pie crust. It was tradition that everyone come over after mass for apple pie and drinks. Bottles of wine and hard liquor covered half of the counter, enough to last the average family a year, but our family the next three days.

“I don’t think you have enough white,” I said sarcastically, eyeing the eight bottles.

It took her a second to realize the voice didn’t belong to Helen and when my mother turned from the counter to face me she screamed and dropped the rolling pin. It landed on the floor with a thud and she ran towards me, her eyes filling with tears. Her arms wrapped tightly around me the only thing she could say was “what.”

I laughed, hugging her back, waiting for her to calm down before I bothered to explain. But instead of asking for an explanation she looked me dead in the eye and said “Well it’s a damn good thing I forgot to send half of your presents because I reckon the first box is already in Pittsburgh.”

“Oh good,” I mocked relief, “I was really worried I wouldn’t have anything to open.” She swatted me with her dishtowel and mumbled something about being a smart ass before turning to my brother.

“How could you keep this from me?” she swatted him too, this time with her hand. “You think I wouldn’t want to know that your sister was coming home?”

“I swear I didn’t know until two days ago,” Simon held up his hand and backed away from her.

“It’s true, I didn’t even know until a few days ago.” I added.

“I thought you had to work...” she looked at me confused, trying to understand the situation.

“I do,” I smiled. “I kind of brought work with me.” I motioned to Sidney, who before that she’d managed to ignore completely.

“Oh my...” she gasped. “Oh my word. Beatrice Keller! What is going on?” She looked from me to Sid then back to me.

“Well you’re always telling me to bring the people I’m dating home to visit,” I grinned.

“Is she serious right now?” She turned to Helen and Simon who nodded. “Do you kids tell me anything?” she shook her head.

“Mum, this is Sidney,” I introduced them.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” Sid held out his hand to her. My mother took his hand in hers and pulled him into a hug.

“John!” she hollered to my father after telling Sidney how happy she was to meet him. “I think you should come down here.” She continued to gush over Sid and apologize for not seeing him when we walked in.

“Bumble!” my father called to me as he came into the room. I ran to him and flung myself into his arms. “When did you get here?” he asked, pulling my against him.

“Just now,” I smiled up at him. “Almost gave mum a stroke,” I laughed.

“You should probably not scare your mother like that,” he rubbed my back. “Hey Bumb, why is Sidney Crosby in our kitchen?” he asked. My father had called me Bumble for as long as I could remember. Sometimes it was Bumble Bea, but usually the Bea was dropped.

“Because I’m dating him,” I replied, my face still mushed against his chest.

“Really?” He moved to look at my face.

I grinned and nodded.

“Well right on,” he kissed my forehead and let go of me to greet Sidney.

Sidney meeting my father wasn’t the most memorable of moments, but it is one I would never forget. They shook hands, greeting each other in a respectful but casual manner and quickly began a conversation about things other than Sidney’s career and hockey. I was so relieved to watch them sitting in the living room, smiling and chatting while I helped my mother make the bed in my childhood room. I wasn’t surprised that they got along so well, it’s often said that women are attracted to men who have similar qualities as their father. Until that night I hadn’t realized the shared traits, both patient and level headed, headstrong and driven. But more importantly they were both supportive and made me feel safer than I thought possible. After the last pillow had been fluffed mum went back downstairs, leaving me alone in a room that could hardly contain all the memories. For the most part I’d taken down the posters and nicknacks from my teenage years, the exception was a huge map of the world that hung next to my bed. It was framed with postcards from places from places I’d longed to be and was faded from the sun that shawn through window on the nicest of afternoons. I was fourteen and couldn’t wait to leave when I saw the map in the corner of an office supply store. Without a second thought I spent the last of my saved allowance on glossy, weighted poster and spent the next four years gazing at it longingly. I smiled to myself lay back on the bed, looking at it from the same angle I had so long ago. I rolled over to face the wall and noticed something wedged between the yellow wall and my bed. The moment I pulled it to me I knew what it was. The cover was thick and black, with my name written carefully in silver pen across the front, a stretched out elastic was fastened to the edges of the back cover to keep the pages inside secure. The pages that contained every thought, secret, and emotion from my adolescence. Somehow my journal had stayed on the Island while I went off seeking adventure. I carefully opened the book and ran my fingers over the soft pages, feeling the imprints made by my pen. The first entry expressed my glee, I’d wanted this ‘adult’, ‘fancy’ journal for so long and that day my grandmother had presented to me. I vowed to write every day and keep track of every book I read. The following two pages were filled with daily adventures and the recognition that writing everyday was not at all easy. I smiled at the words written by my younger self.

Curiously, I sat flipping carefully through then pages, reading parts of various entries and remembering the events mentioned. Mostly I wrote about the mellow drama of high school and hating everything, the further into the book, the more serious the entries. On July 3rd 2005 I wrote that I desperately wanted to break up with my long term boyfriend, Jack. I’d slept with him for the first time only two months earlier and I felt sick about it. Not so much the sex, but his insistence that it meant we were supposed to be together forever. I wrote about how nice he was when I told him I might like girls, but that nice wasn’t enough. On July 10th, 2005 I wrote three words I ENDED IT! my relief made obvious by the exclamation mark. I flipped a few more pages and landed on July 30th,2005. The date had never been one that stuck out in my mind the way important milestones or birthdays do. It was just another day.

July 30th, 2005
It’s less than a month before I turn 18 and I’m laying on the living room floor of the only house I’ve ever lived in. Serena says we’re going to get tattoos that day. She’s going to wait for me. That must be how I know we’ll be best friends for life. I hope I don’t end up like my brothers. John is getting married this summer, Simon is probably going to be single his whole life and Andy, well I guess there’s still hope for him. Anyway they’re all significantly too old to be sitting in our living room on a Saturday night. It’s kind of sad really. But at least they can drink. I asked Dad if I could have a drink and he went on a speech about my kidneys. Doctor Dad takes the fun out of everything.

The brothers are going on about how this is a huge day in hockey history. I don’t really see why. It’s just more young guys being welcomed into a patriarchal system that turns them into demi-gods and further reinforces the idea that athletic prowess trumps all. But I have to admit I do like the game, even if it is really cliche and male dominated. Everyone says they already know who the first pick is, but all I can think is how funny it would be if someone else got chosen instead. When I mentioned this to John he scoffed and told me that’s ridiculous. It’s like he still thinks I’m a child. If only he knew that I’m not even a virgin anymore. I saw Jack at the grocery store yesterday. He didn’t even look at me. I’d call him a sore loser but I guess I did make him cry.

Oh boy, they’re about to announce the first pick. As if the papers haven’t been saying for weeks that it’s 99% likely that the kid with the hair will go to Pittsburgh. Sucks for us Flyers fans, apparently he’s kind of a big deal. I mean I’ve seen him play, but if I’m being honest I don’t pay much attention.

Well would you look at that, “The Pittsburgh Penguins are proud to select, from some weird place, the kid with the teeth, Sidney Crosby” The crowd goes wild.

He’s going to get so much tail tonight. I probably would. I mean if he washed some of that hair gel out he might be kind of hot.
-B

“Where do you want the bags?” Sidney asked, startling me.

“Just put them over there,” I pointed to the closet. I scanned the page again, amused.

“What are you smiling about?” He dropped that bags and sat beside me, his weight causing the bed to shift.

“Just reading some old stuff,” I closed the book quickly and lay in on my lap.

“What kind of stuff?” He wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me closer to him, kissing the side of my head.

“It’s my silly old diary,” I replied.

“Oh? Anything steamy in there?” he reached for the book. I pulled it away from him, holding it on the other side of me. “C’mon,” he growled in my ear playfully. “I promise I won’t laugh.”

I smirked at him with raised eyebrows and returned the book to my lap, opening it to the entry I’d just read. I figured there was no harm in showing him the more mild of the entries, the ones that didn’t mention feeling hopeless or hating the world.

“Hey, that’s the day I got drafted,” he remarked, pointing to the date written carefully in the corner.

“Oh, I’m aware,” I bit my lip and moved the book towards him. I watched his reaction as he read down the page.

“Ouch,” he whispered reading over the part about demi-gods and patriarchy. I sat silently, biting my lip.

“The kid with the hair?” he looked at me with a crinkled brow and a slight smile on his lips.

“Sorry,” I murmured. He continued reading and didn’t lift his eyes from the page until he’d finished, then waited a few seconds before opening his mouth.

“Did you by chance wear a lot of black as a teenager?” he finally asked.

“Probably more than most,” I blushed. “I was a little angsty.”

“No kidding?” he laughed.

“In my defense it’s not like I knew you...”

“And I did use a lot of hair gel,” he added.

“You grew into your teeth,” I winked and rested my hand on his thigh.

He placed the book on the bed behind him and pushed my back, my head landing on the pillow. He hovered above me, eyes locked on mine. I slipped my hands up his back under his shirt and gently pressed my nails into him. His lips were inches away from mine and I could feel myself heating up.

“I didn’t get that much tail,” he whispered. “Not as much as I do now.”

“Yeah, because you washed out the gel,” I giggled.

He crushed his lips against mine and moved his hand to my chest. I had to stop myself from laughing as we kissed on my bed, bodies tangled together. I could feel him growing against my leg and he tried to move his hand under my shirt when we were interrupted by my mother’s voice calling for us to come downstairs. Sidney pulled away from me and frowned.

“Sorry babe,” I laughed and kissed his forehead before rolling off of the bed.

He groaned and stood behind me at the full length mirror while I tried to fix my hair. His groin pressed against my back I considered reaching back and making his life even harder but decided against it. We made ourselves presentable and headed back downstairs.

“Beeeeeeee,” I heard my name in a high pitched squeal and saw my niece running towards me.

“Lyla!” I gasped dramatically. “You’re so big, you look like a real person!” I picked her up and swung her around. I hadn’t seen the little girl in years, but Skyped with her regularly. She giggled and hugged me tightly while we danced around the room.

Sidney followed me into the kitchen where we found my family gathered. My three brothers, most of my cousins, some of my aunts and uncles, my grandmother, and my parents sat crowded at the table.

“Does this belong to someone?” I joked, holding Lyla high in the air.

“I’ll take her if no one else will,” John got up to greet me. He pulled me into a tight hug, Lyla squished between us.

“Don’t hog her!” Behind him my grandmother stood waiting impatiently. She looked smaller than I remembered, but smelt the same when she wrapped her arms around me. “I’ve missed my little Bea.”

“I’ve missed my big Bea,” I replied, resting my head on her shoulder. I’d spent much of my life following my grandmother. She was the original Beatrice Keller and I’d wanted to be just like her. She was tough and soft all at once and knew exactly what she wanted and how to get it. She was fiercely independent and taught me everything I needed to know about taking care of myself.

When I let go of her I saw that Sidney had already introduced himself to the rest of family and seemed to be doing well. We sat at the two free chairs next to John and prepared ourselves to be bombarded by questions. They made press conferences look like a cake walk. I laced my fingers between his and squeezed his hand. Maybe eight bottles of wine wasn’t going to be enough.