Season of Beginning

“I knew this was coming.” Her soft voice settled over the silence that had manifested between them, her blue eyes unable to look at the hockey player in front of her.

“Don’t be like that, I never meant to do anything like this. I don’t know what I was thinking. Please… Shell…” but the words faded into non existence. Every thought crossing either mind struggled against the overwhelming emotional barrier that stood before speech. What could be said? What words would ever be enough.

The woman’s dark painted nails massaged her temple in circles that she wished could rewind time. “Don’t you see?” the hurt could be felt in every tone her voice took, “I should have never stayed in this city. but I did. And now what?”

That was the big question: now what?

Around them the halls of the Brassard facility seemed desolate, dead, vacant of life. But at least one other player had taken the same twisted route to the ice for an early skate. And as he listened on from around a corner he wondered why here?

“Stay…”

“…For?”

Blue green eyes pleaded, one last ditch attempt to persuade the stubborn woman he loved. It had become a war like love always does. Who could stand their ground the longest?

“…for me? I know I don’t deserve it. I know I messed up. I accept the blame. But let me fix it. Give me a chance.”

Her waves bobbed when she shook her head, her eyes becoming glassy. “I can’t. I have too much self respect for that.”

And she pulled away from him and his piercing eyes, breaking whatever force gravitated her to him. “I’m taking some of my stuff and I won’t be staying at your house anymore,”

But there was one last tug that pulled her to him, the strength of his hand giving way to gentleness as it touched her arm. “It’s our house. You can’t just walk away from a life we built.”

And if she could resist this one last thing, she knew it would be over. Forever. Two years of waste.

“No Josh. I never gave my life up. I may have moved a province over but I am my own person and I can very well walk away.”

And like that she was gone. The defensemen’s eyes icy with sorrow as he watched her disappear around a corner. All she wanted was to seem strong but she let the tears fall too early, seeing through them a familiar head of dark hair preoccupied with something on the wall. The goalie was well aware of what had just happened and of her presence but she didn’t know that as she rushed passed him and to the nearest exit. The pain all the more deep at the reminder of the feelings she had suppressed to make her relationship with Josh work. What she had given up.



Leaves began to fall early in October. The regular season was underway already and the memory of the girl had gradually become vague in the team’s collective memory. Wasn’t Josh dating someone? What ever happened to that Michelle girl?

But Josh didn’t forget her, and much to the detriment of his own conflicted morals neither did Carey. His memory always rested on the image of her face that day, a face he had already thought too much about before he became consumed with the short vision of her tearfully rushing away. He hated the sadness that she had filled the halls with in that moment, the sadness that he had absorbed and carried with him. But just as he had during the two years she had been around the team, he kept any second thought he gave to her hidden deep. And it couldn’t matter now that she was gone.

Games came and went. This was his year. The one to prove everyone wrong. If he focused on that, one day he might forget her too.



The usually quiet pub seemed as good a place as any for the 22-year old to get some drawing done. Why not a pint of beer? Get the creative juices flowing? But she had not considered what loud and boisterous groups would infiltrate as the day got late.

One particular group of men the rowdiest, each getting a prolonged greeting standing at the bar before eventually getting a table. So many broad backs facing the rest of the room. Loud deep voices stirring the air with life.

She tried her hardest to ignore them, until a broad shouldered shadow fell across her table.

“Excuse me,” one of the deep voices gently intruded, “Can I sit down?”

The girl looked up at the man who was gesturing to the seat across from her. He felt her gaze descend upon his entire frame. He attempted a smile that fell crookedly, accented by a dimple forming on his cheek. Perfectly harmless.

“Sure…”

He slid into the booth effortlessly, hands clasping in front of him on the table. He had the richest dark brown hair she had ever seen, it contrasted softly with the warm hue of his skin.

“What are you drawing there?”

The girl shrugged, and he only then realised how beautiful she was. “a newspaper cartoon. Don’t think I’ll use this one though.”

“Have I seen you in any papers before? What’s your name?”

She knew very well he hadn’t kept tabs on newspaper comics but she really didn’t mind the idea of being on a first name basis with the handsome, soft-spoken man with the funny smile. “Michelle.”

Even her name and the way it rolled off her tongue pulled him in, but he couldn’t let that happen. It was too late. No turning back now.

“Well Michelle,” the small light above the booth pulled out golden flecks in the brown eyes of the man, “I’m Carey,” Even his accent was warm, something different, not from here. But for a flash of a second his smile faltered, “and my friend over there with the buzzcut, his name is Josh.”

The man Carey gestured to was one of the guys in the booth of broad shouldered men. His eyes glanced over at Carey nervously.

“He’s a really nice guy but he was too shy to come over here himself…”



By mid-month flurries had started in parts of the province. The weather and a team bogged down with injuries set the tone for the winter to come in the city. But in a small flat near the core of downtown, these only worked to re-enforce the bleak greyness that had consumed Michelle’s life. She had always been independent, and at least she had not lost that. But she was stuck in a city that had not yet begun to feel like home, without what had brought her there. And everywhere she went was that logo. The one that reminded her of everything she wanted to forget.

In the mornings she would walk to her favourite café and sit at the smallest wooden table in the whole space, cramped against the large window where she could watch people. And here she would sip her coffee and she would draw. Each day something flowed from the soft grey of her pencil, sometimes more easily than others but always dictated by the small note paper received from her boss. Days passed in sketches, weeks in replaced pencils, a month in a used up pad of paper.



“I just wish I could find her.” Through all the conversations in the locker-room this one struck the goalie’s ears the most sharply. His whole body paused, his hands holding the laces of his left pad frozen. But he kept his head down, not looking towards the defenseman as he listened.

“She hasn’t even taken all of her stuff yet, so I don’t know if that’s a good sign or not. I haven’t heard anything so I don’t know if she went back to Ontario … I really—“

A roaring slap on the goalie’s hunched back startled him out of this conversation. Sometimes he wished P.K. wasn’t quite so enthusiastic. “Forget how to tie Pricey?”

Subban’s signature grin beamed down at him but he could only offer the smallest of smiles in return. “Just worrying my defense might not be able to help me out tonight,” but at least he could joke.

“No need to worry about that.”

“All right boys! Let’s skate circles around some Blue Jackets!” Pacioretty’s voice ascended above the room, followed by single claps and enthusiastic hollers of approval.



Two months Carey had known Michelle. He watched her talk to Josh that night, shyly, like he learnt she did most things. But they never hit it off. They saw each other all the time as friends. And Josh would sometimes bring her out with them and Carey would try harder to keep his distance. Until finally he didn’t want to anymore. If they were only going to be friends, he deserved his chance. After all he had spoken to her first. Heard the softness of her voice first. Had been the first to enjoy the wrinkle near her eyes when she smiled.

“Hey Michelle, can I talk to you?” he asked her in Hal Gill’s backyard. She smiled at his touch and floated towards where he pulled her.

“What’s up?” pink lips popping ever so slightly the final letter.

Nerves held him back, his eyes taking in everything he wanted as it stood right in front of him. The slightest movement of her eyelashes, the hair that fell is wisps about her forehead. “I wanted to see how you were doing. I know being around all the guys can be a little much.”

“I’m doing good,” something in the girl had been expecting something else, had wanted something else but she couldn’t place her finger on it. That didn’t stop the tinge of disappointment eating away at her smile, “Josh has been around me most of the afternoon so I haven’t been abandoned at any point.”

“Yeah I noticed that. I’m glad you guys are such good friends.” And he genuinely meant it until she spoke again.

“Well actually, Josh finally asked me to be his girlfriend,” somehow the question had made her both happy and reluctant, something about committing to Josh felt very final. “and I said yes. So, it looks like you’re going to be seeing a lot of me.”

Except instead of being bliss it would be torture.



“Hey Carey, I wasn’t sure if I should tell Josh this but I bumped into Michelle at the SAQ yesterday. She’s living downtown.” The strap of Ryan White’s bag started slipping form his shoulder as he spoke. He was nervous. Seeing Michelle had put him in a weird position.

“Why wouldn’t you tell Josh?” the goalie couldn’t keep his eyes off the cement ground of the parking lot as they walked. The pretence being that it was not of particular importance to him even though he hoped every day just to bump into her, see her at the grocery store.

“Because she really doesn’t want anything to do with him, She actually asked me if I could pick up some of her stuff, but I feel like that wouldn’t be my place.”

And just like that he had an in. “Let me deal with it.”



Michelle hadn’t quite gotten over seeing Ryan. Perhaps it was time that she went back home, to St. Catherine’s. Her stay in Montreal was only ever supposed to be a few months of inspiration but her ill-advised relationship had kept her there. Seeing Ryan only reiterated the ties that still bound her to him. Not to her failure of a relationship or the man she had spent to year with but the man she craved back in her life. It wasn’t Josh, or Ryan, or P.K. or any other Hab but the one that had intruded on her in the pub. If she had never said yes to Josh she could be with him now. Assuming he even cared for her, of which she wasn’t sure.

With Josh everything had been comfortable, had made sense, it all worked. Until of course it didn’t. Once he had cheated on her there was no turning back. But it was so much different than how she had felt with his teammate. He radiated a warmth that Josh could never muster. His touches were only ever mere moments but they were whole events for her. Guiding her by the small of her back, simply handing her a beer, the deadly hug when he would greet her. And every conversation cut closer to her core, he got her in fewer words than it took Josh to graze the surface.

But that moment she had said yes to Josh every chance she had ever imagined she might have with his teammate was gone. She couldn’t do that, and she knew Carey would never. Not that he cared.



Snow fell in sporadic flakes, landing gently on the light above her door, some falling to the step where her worn mat read “Bienvenue”. Dead leaves still danced around the gutters, brown and grey with none of the beauty of autumn colours. When Carey took a deep breath it came out in the faintest puff of white, He rubbed his hands together in the cold of the wind, nervously shifted from foot to foot, keeping warm.

He knew that this would be nothing, that he was somehow getting his hopes up, but he needed to see her.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

His knuckles grew more aggressive with every contact. What if she didn’t want to see him? What if he just reminded her of that day at Brassard? He didn’t want to hurt her. But it didn’t seem like she was coming anyway. Not even a creek from the house. Pure dead silence behind the door. On his side, only wind whistled and a few cars crunched the dried leaves.

Please, come out. Please. I need to see you.

But it was more than I need to see you, it was I need you.

And as the cold nipped at his hands and nose, the silence nipped at his hope and confidence.

One more time.

Knock. Knock. Kn—

“Carey?” the woman’s eyes soaked him in. His wind blown hair, his peacoat pulled tight. She had seen so much of him the last few weeks. He was playing some of the best hockey he had ever played and the media had latched onto that, the whole city had. But she hadn’t seen this much of him in a long time, without his mask, or his hulking equipment.

“Hey Shell, Ryan told me you were living here. I thought I’d stop by and say hi.” The wind coaxed rosiness from his cheeks as he stood on her doorstep. His eyes glanced behind her begging Please let me in. Which was all she wanted to do. But she hesitated.

“Why? Josh and I aren’t together anymore.”

“I know, but we were friends, weren’t we?”



The steaming mug of Orange Pekoe on the table in front of him was the homiest thing about the room. She had little furniture, and only a handful of her many records. He knew exactly where the rest had been sitting at Josh’s house since she left. She didn’t have all of her books either but she had some. He could imagine all of that in the new space and it became perfect.

“How have you been?” She asked, and he looked up through the steam. She hadn’t changed except in looking more tired. He wondered if the bags under her eyes were a permanent feature or he caught her on a bad day.

“Good. The team has been having some injury problems but we’ve been playing some good hockey. Coach seems confident so I can’t complain.” He paused, to savour the setting, her presence he felt like he had been missing for years, “How about you? I know—Well, I know a bit about… you know… Josh hasn’t really talked about it. He misses you.” But, Carey thought to himself, I miss you more.

“I’m fine. It sucked but that’s life, right? Character-building and stuff”

She couldn’t look at him because she felt like such a fool for what Josh had done. Like it was her fault he had wronged her. Like she hadn’t been enough.

“I really don’t think Josh is that kind of guy. He made a mistake.”

“Doesn’t that make it worse? I made him that kind of guy.” Her nails were cranberry red this time as they rubbed her temple familiarly, “If you came to defend him, you can save your breath. I don’t hate him, but what we had is not worth going through that again.”

“I didn’t come to defend him. I came to see how you were doing. I already said.”

In that moment she hated the genuineness that he so easily exuded. She felt like maybe he was pretending to be nice, it was in his nature. B.C. farm boy. A familiar narrative.

“Because you think I can’t handle a guy cheating on me? Well I’m as fine as he is.”

The hockey player put down the mug and leaned forward, his arms resting on his knees. His right fingers rubbed lines up and down his left palm, “Look, Ryan didn’t want to get into the middle of this. You asked him to get your stuff back? Not going to happen. Me on the other hand, it’s too late for me to not get involved.”

“You introduced us, you didn’t make me say yes to him. You aren’t involved. This was our mistake. Him and me.”

But his next response is not what she expected. “Because I don’t like drama I wish that was what I meant.”

At this the air between them became suddenly charged with tension. Michelle’s hope rose ever so subtly and as long as she didn’t ask her next question it could stay unharmed. So the comment just hung there between them.

Everything was still save the steam from the cup, continuously rising between them. If her heart would only stop pounding for a moment maybe she could speak. He feared her response as much as prolonged silence.

“Well then…” her eyes squared with his, “what did you mean?”

“Do you remember that first week you and Josh were together? Skillsy’s barbeque? Our conversation at the Bell?”

“A bit.”

But Price’s memory of it was crystal clear.



She wore a simple light grey sweater, a gold chain hanging a pendant just above the V of the neckline. The ends of the sleeves were pulled over her hands but when she saw him she smiled.

“There’s my favourite back-up,” she kidded, knowing Budaj was getting the start.

The season had been so hard on the team it wasn’t uncommon for Price to leave the room for a few minutes to collect his thoughts.

“We can’t all be rockstars everyday,” Just being around her made him smile.

“Some of us manage.”

“Wish I had that talent. I worry on games like this that my desire to be out on the ice gets to the guys. Makes me a bad teammate, like I don’t care about the team, just myself.”

“Selfish goalies don’t pick up girls for their defensemen.”

“I don’t remember picking anyone up for anyone. That’s an exaggeration.”

“I distinctly remember you doing the heavy lifting that day in the pub.” Her tone was joking. She liked to tease and joke. She always had a smile on her face.

He liked it when she joked and he liked that she always smiled. “What are you doing down here anyway?”

“I’m not sure. Just wanted to say good luck. I was hoping you guys would be more inspired than I’ve been today.”

“Drawer’s block?”

“You could say that.”

“I’m sure you’ll think of something, You’re a clever girl.”

She laughed it off, “clever girls don’t go into drawing cartoons.”

Both of them leaned against the white walls and for a second there was silence. The sounds of the crowd were muffled in the distance but here with Michelle, Carey didn’t feel the same pressure at the sound.

“How are things with Gorges?” He looked down at her beside him noticing instantly her hesitation.

“Things are good. He’s a great guy.” And when she looked at him she knew he understood something wasn’t right but he didn’t press her.

He couldn’t, however, stop looking at her, reading everything behind her expression, which made her shift her weight under his gaze, “what?”

He thought about telling her how he felt but he shouldn’t have even been speaking to her right before a game, nothing could throw him off more. Not that it mattered because he didn’t even have a chance to say another word.

“There you are! Get your ass back in here Pricer.”

And he disappeared into the room without hesitating.



“I wanted to tell you how I felt every time I saw you that week because since getting to know you I’ve been confused. At some point while you were seeing Josh, I fell for you.”

Nothing could have shocked Michelle more. Her brain could barely process anything but those words. Gone were concepts of how to respond, being polite. She just looked at table in front of him. There was no more steam coming from his cup.

“Michelle—”

“Do you want another cup of tea?”

The question didn’t make any sense to Carey. Was she going to ignore what he had said. “I’ve barely started this one.”

“Are you sure?” Her brain was still struggling with the new information.

“Yes. Did you hear what I said or are you purposely ignoring it?”

“I don’t know.”

But the answer didn’t fit the question and Carey was getting more lost by her words with every response.

“Michelle, please. I understand you were with Josh. I understand you are getting over him. I don’t expect anything from telling you.”

She suddenly looked at him.

“Then what do you want?”

“I wanted you to know.”

She thought about his answer a moment before standing up, “I’m going to make another cup of tea.”

“Could you forget the tea? I don’t want you silently hating me for saying that. It’s been bothering me for a long time. I don’t want you to be mad.”

Still she did not look at him, just spoke “I don’t hate you.” And thought because I love you. But it was all such a mess. “I’m not mad either.”

And finally she looked him in the eyes properly, “mad is the last thing that would make me.”

It had been so hard for her to look at him because of how easily he read her. In that simple response he felt hope, he felt the weight lift. He said “we should talk about this.”

And she responded, “I’m making a cup of tea.”

But in her voice he could hear that it was all going to be okay. Whether she loved him back or not there was something there, some bond of friendship or more, which his confession could not break. They could still be them. No matter what.