Buried Feelings
The News
I sat on my sofa, drumming my foot on the coffee table as I struggled to come up with a direction for my law brief; Gus, my pudgy pug pushed my computer off my lap; he was right, I needed a break from writing. I took a swig of my wine and rubbed my temple; just thinking about tomorrow and the preparation that I had put into it pushed me into a migraine. Reminding myself, "I love being an attorney, I love making a difference," Gus glances at me with his inquisitive pug face, almost challenging my nearly daily mantra.
Somehow, by either a stroke of luck (good or bad depending on the day and client), I landed in the county's public defender's office, and while it had it pros and cons, overall I enjoyed the ungrateful clients and staggering amount of work, which in turn left me without a real social life. Looking back at the memories that are framed all along my walls, I see someone else, a girl whose week nights were filled with wine bars and spontaneous parties but now I am the woman whose blonde hair is tied in a messy bun with my glasses perched on the tip of my nose, sitting on my rather uncomfortable but expensive sofa, halfheartedly paying attention to the TV while going over my trial notes. I let out a sigh, I have become the epitome of lame, everything I swore I would not be only three years ago.
Another swig of wine. This time a bigger one. The words begin to blend together and I decided it is time to put the work away until tomorrow and turn up the sound on the TV. I flip through the channels and find the Blackhawks game, although watching the Hawks has gotten easier, I still cringe slightly every time I watch them alone, a constant reminder of the past. A few more swigs of wine and the game is over, ending in a shootout with the Blackhawks coming out on top. Last year it was impossible to avoid Blackhawks fever, after they won the Cup in 2010 I had made every possible effort to push any reminder of hockey, especially the Chicago Blackhawks, out of my mind, but I somewhat succumbed last year. I let myself go to a few games, get caught up in the hype, and celebrate with my city, but when it was all over, it felt like a bad hangover.
When Kris had been traded, it felt like my world had hit a wall, but I believed we would overcome it, only to have my heart destroyed when he did not think it would work. Just like that, the sport, the team, the excitement, were ruined for me. Some days I didn't even feel like getting out of bed, or going to work, or even eating. And never did I think I would watch another hockey game, never did I think I would call myself a fan again, but I had, somewhere in the past three years I crawled out of that hole and rescued myself. My best friend, Rachel, had told me I could no longer let "that pompous Kris Versteeg" ruin my life, and I had to find myself again. I was able to finish law school, buy a modest condo, and hit reset on my life.
As the post game interviews began, I heard my text tone go off, I looked at the clock and could not believe someone was texting me at 10:30pm!
"Who have I become that a text at this time annoys me? Ugh," I said to no one, as I shook my head in my hands. I grabbed the iPhone off the coffee table, and swiped open the text:
"Hey Kaela, it's Kris, long time no talk but just got the news, it's about to hit the media, I got traded back to the blackhawks"
I felt my glass slip out of my hands and crash to the floor. Luckily the carpet broke the fall, but the splash of white wine on my feet and Gus hurriedly licking it off my bare feet, jolted me back to reality. Suddenly, that ache in my heart, the same one I had pushed out for the past three years was back. I guess "that pompous Kris Versteeg" was back.
Somehow, by either a stroke of luck (good or bad depending on the day and client), I landed in the county's public defender's office, and while it had it pros and cons, overall I enjoyed the ungrateful clients and staggering amount of work, which in turn left me without a real social life. Looking back at the memories that are framed all along my walls, I see someone else, a girl whose week nights were filled with wine bars and spontaneous parties but now I am the woman whose blonde hair is tied in a messy bun with my glasses perched on the tip of my nose, sitting on my rather uncomfortable but expensive sofa, halfheartedly paying attention to the TV while going over my trial notes. I let out a sigh, I have become the epitome of lame, everything I swore I would not be only three years ago.
Another swig of wine. This time a bigger one. The words begin to blend together and I decided it is time to put the work away until tomorrow and turn up the sound on the TV. I flip through the channels and find the Blackhawks game, although watching the Hawks has gotten easier, I still cringe slightly every time I watch them alone, a constant reminder of the past. A few more swigs of wine and the game is over, ending in a shootout with the Blackhawks coming out on top. Last year it was impossible to avoid Blackhawks fever, after they won the Cup in 2010 I had made every possible effort to push any reminder of hockey, especially the Chicago Blackhawks, out of my mind, but I somewhat succumbed last year. I let myself go to a few games, get caught up in the hype, and celebrate with my city, but when it was all over, it felt like a bad hangover.
When Kris had been traded, it felt like my world had hit a wall, but I believed we would overcome it, only to have my heart destroyed when he did not think it would work. Just like that, the sport, the team, the excitement, were ruined for me. Some days I didn't even feel like getting out of bed, or going to work, or even eating. And never did I think I would watch another hockey game, never did I think I would call myself a fan again, but I had, somewhere in the past three years I crawled out of that hole and rescued myself. My best friend, Rachel, had told me I could no longer let "that pompous Kris Versteeg" ruin my life, and I had to find myself again. I was able to finish law school, buy a modest condo, and hit reset on my life.
As the post game interviews began, I heard my text tone go off, I looked at the clock and could not believe someone was texting me at 10:30pm!
"Who have I become that a text at this time annoys me? Ugh," I said to no one, as I shook my head in my hands. I grabbed the iPhone off the coffee table, and swiped open the text:
"Hey Kaela, it's Kris, long time no talk but just got the news, it's about to hit the media, I got traded back to the blackhawks"
I felt my glass slip out of my hands and crash to the floor. Luckily the carpet broke the fall, but the splash of white wine on my feet and Gus hurriedly licking it off my bare feet, jolted me back to reality. Suddenly, that ache in my heart, the same one I had pushed out for the past three years was back. I guess "that pompous Kris Versteeg" was back.
♠ ♠ ♠
My first chapter! This is my first story on here...I have written others on other forums but was recently inspired and decided to try my hand at a fanfic! Hopefully I will have another chapter, or two, up this week.