From Boston to Pittsburgh With Love

Adriana’s P.O.V.

That night I tossed and turned, completely unable to shut my body down and drift off into sweet blissful sleep. Somewhere where I knew I would again see Evgeni’s face in my dreams. But for some reason I couldn’t meet that face in my dreams tonight; sleep seemed so far away. Instead my mind and body had banded together and decided that I wouldn’t sleep and instead focus my thoughts on these new feelings for Geno I seemed to be developing.

Early this afternoon when I was thinking of that day in Boston, the day I left everything, I couldn’t help but think of what kind of future Geno and I could have. I was thinking of how before I had met Geno whenever I looked back on that day my heart ached like someone had cut it in pieces with a machete. But today, with Geno, it felt different and I didn’t understand why. Was I finally willing to accept that my family and I may be biologically related but we were nothing alike? When I thought back to that day today sure my chest had a little ache, but I was amazed at how easily I was able to tell the story to Geno without losing it. A voice inside of me said that Geno was worth it, that Geno was worth the emotional pain I had been enduring the past few weeks. Maybe…but one thing I knew for sure, saying goodbye literally or figuratively to my mother was going to be a cakewalk but my Milan now that was going to be difficult.

I hadn’t been able to describe to Geno the relationship Milan and I shared; it was too long and complicated. Milan had always been my hero growing up, someone who was always willing to listen to whatever petty problems I brought home from school that day. He was willing to beat up anyone or anything that dared hurt me. We were linked at the hip practically; always near each other when he was home. But when he left that sunny May morning for the OHL I learned for the first time that crying in front of some of my family meant one thing, weakness. When tears gathered in my eyes as Milan gathered his bags and placed them into the trunk of my grandfather’s SUV my mother lightly smacked my head in a scolding manner, telling me that a crying Serbian woman had no place in this house. Since day 1 I learned to keep the tears inside; learned to be strong like Milan.
~
I didn’t realize I had drifted off until I woke to the sharp brightness of the outside world as Greta pulled back the curtains in my bedroom.

“Up, now. You have a visitor.” Said the always grumpy housekeeper whose loyalties much to my chagrin laid always and forever with my mother. For someone who lived full time in Prague her English was remarkable.

I grumbled an explicative under my breath and rolled out of bed. As I walked down the master staircase to see who at this hour wanted to see me. Personally I was in no shape to have guests right now; my hair still in my bun from last night only a thousand times messier, I wore a pair of oversized Under Armour and a black sports bra. Probably not the most practical thing to be wearing downstairs to see this mystery guest, and believe me Greta showed her disapproval with her eye roll as I slumped down the stair, but I certainly did not care.

Geno.

Who else would it be? Just my luck.

“Geno?” I smile sheepishly at him as I step down from the stairs and close the gap between us, into his awaiting arms.

“Da. Morning sunshine. Thought we spend day together. That okay?” He asked pushing hair out of my face.

“Absolutely! Um…sorry I look like utter shit. I’ll go change and we can leave.” I say using all my will power to leave his grasp and start towards the stairs.

“Adriana? You beautiful always. Could be wearing potato sack and you be stunning.” He said smiling up at me with that goofy grin that sent girls in Pitt to their knees.

Holy shit. This boy is being way too sweet to me, it’s not even fair. No one in my life, not even Milan had said something that sweet to me. My head is clouded with happiness and sweet ecstasy as I climb the stairs to my room to change. I change into a black and white striped maxi skirt, a white blouse, and silver sandals. When I manage to somewhat control my unruly mess of black curls I grab my purse and descend the stairs. I find Geno and Greta sharing soft whispered words near the door. Geno looked worried, absolutely frightened while Greta looked angry, angrily pointing her finger at Geno and gesturing towards the upstairs, clearly not noticing my presence yet.
I decided that was enough of that, I clear my throat to indicate that they no longer have this room to themselves and this conversation, however suspicious it is, is now over.

“Ready sunshine?” Geno asks as he puts out his arm for me to take. We descend the main stairs and leave the cold and heartless castle in our wake.
~
“So where are we going G?” I ask as we drive through the main gates and onto the busy roads.

“I take us to market. I know you like the Town Square!” Geno says enthusiastically staring out of the windshield.

Geno was right thought, I absolutely adored the markets in the town square. They were so peaceful, everyone there always just there to make a living and nothing more. I loved not having to speak in Serbian, loving the fact that the vendors and farmers preferred speaking in English rather than their native tongue. To me that just proved that how kind the farmers and lower class of Prague can be. Personally I hated, absolutely loathed living in that fancy upscale castle; if it were up to me I’d be living on the country side. The country side of Prague now that was somewhere I had to bring Evgeni. The tall ever rolling flower covered hills, and the breathtaking views always reminded me of sweet and utter blissful peace and tranquility.

We arrived at the center of the outskirts of town and parked next to an old café called, “Kup radosti” or Cup of Joy. I remembered going their countless snowy afternoons with Milan when we were kids, desperately looking for warmth on those cold winter days.

Geno and I walked hand in hand towards the center of town. When we finally arrived I knew exactly what Geno’s reaction would be, mine had been the exact same. I looked to see his chocolate brown eyes wide with amazement as he took in the sights, his mouth parted in bewilderment.

I knew exactly what he was seeing, endless possibilities. There were hundreds of cart and display tables with endless arrays of fruits and vegetables, not to mention a small section in the back with freshly baked pies. I gazed around in amazement at how humble these people were. The farmers long ago had formed some unwritten rules about the farmers market here. The whole setup was divided into two sections, fruits and vegetables. The magnificent color and happiness that radiated from these stands always made me feel as if dropping everything and running to the countryside here in Prague would be the smartest idea I would ever have.

Slowly I took Geno from stand to stand, both of us carrying twine bags. I chose to do most of the bidding with the farmers. Though the farmers spoke English and Geno very easily could have done some of the buying, I think he was just in awe of the whole display being put on today. One thing I loved more than anything about these farmers was that they always gave fair prices. It wasn’t that they were pushovers, they were just willing and understanding. The two of us walked hand in hand from each stand picking up everything from carrots, sausages, lettuce, fresh zander, and fried mushrooms.

Finally around 2pm I looked to over to how Geno was doing as we took a break on a nearby bench, “Hangin’ in there big guy?” I say with a chuckle.

“SO much food. Everywhere. Nothing is like this in Russia.” He says staring around at the numerous people scurrying from stand to stand, laughing and enjoying the blue sky overhead.

“So um, what’s next G? You’re the man with the plan here right?” I ask.

“Hmm? Oh…da. Well I thought we could make dinner tonight...together.” He says sheepishly looking threw his thick eyelashes at me.

I grinned and nodded my head. Today is going to be perfect, absolutely perfect.
We continued shopping through the market, picking up ingredient after ingredient. Finally at 5pm we ended at the dessert section near the rear of the market. The two of looked at the wide array of pies, all bearing multitude of flavors.

“You pick.” I say to him. I was curious to see what flavor the big bad Evgeni Malkin liked when it came to pie.

“This one please.” He said happily handing the pie the old woman behind the counter with a face littered with wrinkles that held a thousand stories, a thousand laughs.

I glanced over at the flavor tag, raspberry. Hmm that was good to know!
We headed towards the car at the outskirts of the town square, our arms filled with bags and bags of food. Geno carefully held the pie container in his left hand. We drove home talking about some of his inside jokes with his teammates and how good of friends he and Sidney had become over the years.

Suddenly I realized we had arrived back at the main gates of the castle.

“Geno, what the hell are we doing here?!” I asked slightly pissed at him for bringing me back.

“Please. I talk with Greta. We make dinner for each other tonight. They no bother us.” He said stroking my cheek with his thumb. I had until that moment totally forgotten about the conversation I had overheard between him and Greta.

I slowly nodded my head giving small consent to move forward. We entered the main doors to find lights on but no Greta or other staff. I looked around curiously.

“Downstairs. I ask them for space.” He says as he takes my hand and leads me to the kitchen in the back.

“Alright. Now I’m cooking! You sit.” I jokingly shove him into the kitchenette nearby while I begin unwrapping the day’s ingredients.

“Ay ay captain.” He says giving me a mock solute and sits down to watch.

I knew from watching my mother prepare meals for Milan countless times what a hockey player needs in every meal. Using this while we were at the market today I made sure to buy plenty of protein and nutritious foods for the meal. I fried the fresh zander and steamed the asparagus and mushrooms. I cooked the fresh pasta with the sausage alongside. For the next half hour I worked on the meal, carefully and methodically.

Finally when it was placed on the table I let out a deep sigh and sat down with Geno to enjoy the authentic spread.

“You great chef. Should own restaurant.” Geno grinned, looking up from his plate, his cheeks plump with food. He looked like a little kid who couldn’t get enough.
We spent the next hour talking and laughing, trading stories of our childhood. Never once did the subject of Milan or my mother come up, something I was grateful for. Talking with Geno was effortless, almost like breathing. I could have told him every secret I had, I was that comfortable with him.

Before I knew we were in the front foyer sitting on the lavish couch continuing our conversation. I looked down at Geno’s hand that had been placed on my inner thigh. I looked over into his eyes, his dark thick eyelashes rimmed his eyes as he smiled over at me. He continued to stroke my thigh and gazed into my eyes. I couldn’t understand why it was so comfortable to say absolutely nothing in this moment and just get lost in his eyes. I felt myself lower myself down to a lying position, looking up at him. Geno crawled on top of me taking my face in his hands and placed on sweet kiss on my awaiting lips.

“One for the amount of seconds took me to fall for you.” He said, his accent thicker than usual.
His hands moved to my hips as his lips moved to my neck. “Two for number of dates we have.”
He paused for a moment to look into my awaiting eyes. Our gaze broke when he began moving to my collarbones.

“Three for number of times I think bout you every minute.” His accent was growing increasingly thicker as our makeout session got hotter and hotter.

“Four-...” He began to say before a grabbed his hair and pulled his lips to mine.

“God Geno, please stop teasing me. I’m begging you!” I say to him between heated kisses.

Our lips met in a blur of heat and passion. Our mouths parted and our tongues battled it out, ultimately Geno won. His hands roamed my body, passing over my hips and on my thighs. Butterflies tickled my stomach as I felt Geno’s hands roam up and down my sides.

“OH MY!” A voice startled the two of us and brought us down from our cloud bliss. Greta stood in the doorway wearing an obviously fake shocked expression.

“Greta!” Geno was the first to move, but I held him to the couch. I’ve known Greta for 12 years now, meaning I knew her. I knew that there was no point whatsoever in acting like guilty teenagers
who got caught doing what all teenagers do. Instead I kept Geno pinned to the couch.

I turned to Greta, “A word outside Greta.” I said in a stone cold voice. Geno gave me a perplexed look, wondering why I was using such a tone with the housekeeper. But I knew Greta.

“Oh of course.” She said smirking at the two of us before turning towards the door.

“I’ll be right back G.” I said kissing his cheek.
I walked out threw the main doors to find Greta standing on the steps with a cigarette in her mouth already.

“Let’s just cut to the chase. You saw it, now you know.” I said expressionless to Greta who just smirked back at me threw the cloud of smoke she blew out.

“Yup. Now I have official evidence.” She said cunningly.

“What do you want? I don’t think I need to tell you that I would like to keep this incident from reaching Boston, let alone Vancouver.” I say to her.

“A week.” She retorts back simply.

“A week? For what?”

“Vacation. What else you little brat.” She says as she drops her cigarette into the dirt and stomps on it.

“What does someone like you do on vacation? Wait no don’t tell me. I really don’t care. Fine it’s a deal. You get one week of pain vacation, and you won’t let this news leak back to the family.” I explain to her.

“You give me this and this news will never reach past those gates.” She said sticking out her hand for me to shake. I shook.

We turned on our heels and headed back inside. Greta turned to her room in the basement and began packing for whatever it was she planned on doing for vacation and I returned to Geno.

“Everything okay?” Geno asks as he wraps his arms around me as we sit back on the couch.

“Yes.” I lied. I looked up at the beautiful Russian that was in the process of stealing my heart and planted a passionate kiss on his lips.

“Excuse me. Hate to interrupt but I’ll be leaving now. I will see you in one week.” Greta said from the doorway, carrying one single silver suitcase and her black jacket.

“Yes. See you in one week.”

Geno and I lay on the couch exchanging kisses; all kinds of kisses ranging from quick pecks to long passionate ones. Finally I lay in his arms staring out the bay window nearby that over looked a wide field. I couldn’t help but feel a small amount of guilt for lying to Geno. Yes I may have gotten rid of Greta for now, but some sick voice deep down in my mind said that it was only putting a band aid on a gushing wound. Temporary relief. All I was giving us was false hope.
Greta owed my mother an eternity of loyalty and service. Giving her this vacation seemed to too easy. I could feel the storm coming, I could feel it in my bones. It was going to be a nasty one at its worst, an unforgettable one. A storm was coming that was going to leave in its wake trauma, tears, and emotional anguish. The only ray of sunshine poking through the stormy clouds rolling in was named Evgeni Malkin. Hopefully he could whether whatever was coming our way.