Chapter 25

All right, all right, all right!

Who's ready for a new chapter? I had to have some real life inspiration hit me before I could finish this chapter, but you, it worked. :)
We're nearing the end, are you ready?

-----

Sidney and I had been running around, stealing moments together in secluded corners of my dorm or the arena for the past few weeks. The Penguins had beaten the Capitals in 7 games, and now, they were playing Carolina. They pummeled them the first two games, and I had no doubt in my mind that they would sweep and with that sweep, be well on their way to the Stanley Cup Finals for the second year in a row.

Don’t tell Sidney this though. As soon as I brought up the possibility of a sweep, he silenced me and told me to not talk about it. He told me it was bad luck and that I shouldn’t even think about it. Sometimes I wanted to drop kick him across the house.

While Sidney was flourishing in the playoffs, I was working out and getting myself back into shape. My whole right leg seemed like a useless limb covered in flabby skin. Cellulite seemed to have taken residence there and refused to move, no matter how much I ran and how much I lifted. Sidney didn’t seem to mind as much as I did.

“Guess what,” I said to Sidney, lying on the hotel bed after game three of the Eastern Conference Finals. I was drawing cute little circles on his chest, my head on his arm, which acted as a pillow

“What?” he questioned softly, twirling a curl around his finger. I could tell he was tired, but I wanted to tell him what I had to say before he fell asleep.

“I’m playing in a tournament with the school at the end of June,” I said, craning myself around in his arms to look at his face. I wanted him to be ecstatic, but because of when I chose to tell him, I knew I couldn’t expect much more than a half-hearted nod and a smile. He was lying there, eyes closed looking almost like a perfect wax figure; so serene and at peace, while my mind was whirring like an overheated car. I settled back down into the crook of his arm, wishing he would show some more emotion, just to make me happy.

“Just thought you should know,” I whispered, draping my arm over his stomach. His hand found mine and he began to draw little figure eights in my palm. I knew he was excited, but just completely drained. I understood, so I lay there, as the figure eights in my palm came less and less until I heard a soft steady breathing under me.

“I love you,” I murmured, kissing his ear and lying down beside him.

“I love you too,” he suddenly said, rolling over towards me and pulling me as close as he possibly could. I loved the feel of his body against mine and I never wanted him to go. I wanted to stay like this forever. I slowly fell asleep in his arms, loving the place I was at.

-

I told him they’d sweep. I told Sid the Penguins would dominate the Hurricanes. Who was right? Oh, that’s right, me. You can only imagine how we celebrated together. They rest of the team went out and got drunk while Sidney and I shut ourselves up in his hotel room.

I could hear the guys coming back around 1 in the morning by the muffled yells coming from the hallway. I listened to them for about half an hour, looking at Sidney sleeping peacefully beside me the entire time. I kept running my hand through his hair, damp with sweat, expecting him to wake up at any second, but he never did.

I wanted to freeze time and step away. I wanted to look at what was happening at this exact point in time. As I thought, the voices outside our room shrank to the murmur of friendly conversation. The Penguins had just made it to the Stanley Cup Finals for the second year in a row. I was waiting for someone to come along and tell me it was all a dream; that I had been living in a dream the past month. That my knee wasn’t getting better, that the Penguins were still 1-8-1 in their last ten games and that Sidney was still a grouch and I was still scared to talk to him.

That never happened. I stayed where I was, firmly planted in the bed beside the one person I couldn’t care more about. I didn’t float away, and the lines of his face didn’t smudge and dissipate, disintegrating into the wind; that moment right before you wake up. Everything was tangible and I could touch him. Everything was tangible, and the Penguins were going to the Stanley Cup Finals. Everything was tangible and I was going to play basketball again. Everything seemed right, almost too good to be true.

-

The day after Game Four of the Conference Finals, the team and I flew back to Pittsburgh. They went back to practice while I went back to the athletic center, which also included the training room, where I’d make little stops in to talk to Todd about whatever was happening at the time whether it be about the Penguins or basketball; there was always something to talk about.

Life has little ways of always giving you reality checks, when everything seems too good. I walked into the training room, seemingly walking on clouds, only to see bare walls and Todd cleaning out the cabinets. My clouds instantly disappeared as what was happening hit me. Todd was leaving.

“You can’t leave,” I said, my mouth hanging open, my gym bag falling to the ground. “You just can’t…” I felt like part of my heart was being ripped out; he was my best friend, and he helped get me through my surgery. He was the one constant through it all, and now he was leaving.

“It’s a better job,” he said, shrugging his shoulders and continuing to pile up his things. “And it’s closer to my house. I never get to see my family, and this will let me do that.”

“I’ll miss you,” I said, trying not to cry. I really would miss him. He helped me so much. I felt tears spring to my eyes and I quickly wiped them away before he saw.

“Don’t worry,” he stated flatly. I could tell this was ripping him up as much as it was me. “You have my number, right? Call me if you need anything. Let me know if your knee bothers you.”

“Okay,” I stated. I felt numb to the world, and numb to what was happening. This wasn’t real. I walked over and gave him a hug; nothing special, just a hug. I smiled weakly at him before turning around and backing out of the door.

“I’m playing in a tournament with the team at the end of June,” I said leaning against the doorframe. “You should come,” I said, picking up my bags.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Todd said, with one last attempt at a smile.

I smiled in return and backed out of the little room, waving with the hand that wasn’t holding my keys. I started down the hallway, considering all of what just transpired. Todd was leaving. I would be on my own when it came to basketball.

The gym and its big solid glass wall came into view with its treadmills and ellipticals on the other side; overweight college students running at speeds far too fast for them, huffing and puffing. I put my things in a locker and walked out to the treadmills. Everything seemed surreal as I set my speed to 5 and began to run. It hit me hard when I thought about it; between Sidney being one win away from another chance at the cup and Todd leaving, I had a mixture of devastation and joy. I put those thoughts to the back of my head, concentrating on the lop-siding pounding of my feet as I ran.

The more I ran, the more the thoughts creeped back into my head. I couldn't keep them at bay. I thought about Todd leaving, and my feeling of abandonment. Then I thought about Sidney and how happy he made me. His face popped into my head and I immediately smiled. Hell, the thought of him winning the Stanley Cup made me want to skip on the treadmill instead of run. His happiness was my happiness; we were one, and he won out over Todd any day.

Chapter 24

Into Another World Chapter 24

“So, Pitt’s finest, you can start playing again,” Dr. Carr stated before continuing on. “Now, ‘play’, is a very general word. What I mean by play, is go out to practice, run, do a few drills, but don’t sprint. You can jump and all that fun stuff, but no sprinting for a few more weeks,” my doctor concluded, writing me a note with all the information he just threw at me.

Apparently my knee was the best thing Dr. Carr’s seen since… well he couldn’t remember. I thought that was pretty miraculous, seeing as I have an extremely low pain tolerance, but Sidney says he almost expected it from me. He says I’m a fighter; I’d like to think I am, and if he thinks so, then I must be, seeing as he’s always right.

“So just go see your physical therapist once more to have him check you out and make sure he’s done with you, and if you have any questions, I’m sure Todd’ll know,” he finished, opening the door to walk out. “And Mr. Crosby, I’ll be watching you play Washington tonight,” he said with a wink before walking out of the room completely.

I looked over at Sidney and his scruffy playoff beard that was beginning to get a little greasy, and jumped onto his lap before he could get out of his seat. I straddled his torso, something I hadn’t done in a long time, and kissed his neck, trying my best to avoid his beard.

The feeling I had was indescribable. I felt like running down the hallway screaming at the top of my lungs. I felt like skipping through a field of daisies, and most of all, I felt like going home with Sidney and doing some pre-game warm-ups.

“Did you hear that? I can run, I can play, and I can jump. I can do anything,” I said, smiling what seemed like the biggest smile ever.

“I see that,” he said with a slight smile and a hint of sarcasm to his voice, but I ignored it and pulled him out of the chair after I stood up, leading him down the hall to the checkout counter where I paid my co-pay and bound into the elevator all within five minutes.

Once the elevator doors were shut, I kissed Sidney with the most passion I’ve felt for anything in a long time. I separated myself from him when the elevator came to a stop, and he had a completely bewildered look sketched across his face.

“There’s more where that came from,” I said with a wink and a tap on his huge ass before walking out of the elevator with some swing to my hips. I never quite realized how much I swung my hips until I couldn’t do it with my brace and now that it was gone, I was going to be back to normal.

“I have an appointment with Ken in about an hour,” I stated once we got out to his car. “Drive me?” I asked with a cute little smile and a kiss on his lips. I knew he wouldn’t say no to me either way, but I figured I’d give him some sort of incentive. He looked at me with burning eyes and I could tell he was willing to do anything for me at that given moment. Love.

“Do you have time to, oh, I don’t know,” he started, shrugging his shoulders and glancing at the ground before looking back at me with those same burning eyes. “Maybe do some extracurricular things before your appointment?”

“Ohh, what do you have in mind?” I asked, catching his drift and drawing closer to him, placing my arms around his neck. I could feel his hands slide across my ass and give it a quick squeeze before he looped his fingers through my belt loops and pulled my hips closer to him.

“Use that creative mind of yours,” he said, kissing my neck. I craned my head away from his lips, relishing the feeling his lips created on my skin.

“I might possibly have time… if we hurry on back to your place,” I said, letting out a small moan of contentment, feeling his hands run across the bare skin above my jeans and below my shirt.

“Who said anything about going back home?” he asked with a devilish grin, backing me into the side of his Range Rover and running his hands up and down my sides under my shirt.

As much as my mind was telling me, ‘Abort abort! Bad idea!’, I really, really, wanted to have hot sex with him in the back of his car for the second time, but this time I wouldn’t have a big brace hindering me. This time with a purpose, not just because he was in a good mood. This time because I wanted him, and he wanted me. This time, because I’ve never felt more for someone in my life.

He opened the door to the Range Rover while I wasn’t paying attention and began to back me inside. I was sitting on the seat with my legs still dangling out the door when he began to pull at my shirt, but before he could get it off, I pulled him into the Range Rover with me and shut the door.

-

“You have a certain… glow about you today…” Ken said when I walked, yes walked, into physical therapy on that breezy May day.

“Uh, yeah…” I sat down on my usual table and rolled my pant leg up for him to look at my knee for my final physical therapy, hopefully, ever.

“Why are you so sweaty?” he suddenly asked, pulling on my leg to make sure the ligament healed the way it was supposed to.

“I’m just super excited that I get to play…?” I said it almost like a question, and Ken, with his super senses, picked up on the fact that I was lying almost immediately

“Whatever you say Mrs. Crosby…” he stated, smiling his impish little smile that I had seen way too much of in the past three months.

“We’re not married, Ken,” I snapped at him, losing my patience with his childish little games.

“Alright. Let me know when you two DO get married. I want to see proof of this.”

“Oh you’ll get proof. I’ll send you our wedding picture, SIGNED by one Sidney Crosby,” I stated with a smirk. “And I’ll be back, with the Stanley Cup in tow, when they win.”

“Whatever you say. Anyway, your knee. This is the best post-op knee I’ve ever seen. Ever. Let me emphasize that. EVER. You can thank your genes for that,” Ken said with slight shock to his voice. It’s kind of ironic, seeing as all I ever did when I was younger was complain about how I got all the bad genes in the family, and now, these bad genes, were coming in handy.

“Thanks?” I said it almost like a question, wondering if there was some hidden insult behind what he was saying.

“No I’m serious,” he stated, stepping away from the table and looking at me with that look that made me blush no matter how much I looked away. I wanted to slap him across the face when he did that. He’s married for God’s sake and hello, I’m dating Sidney Crosby.

“Well, thanks. Sid’s waiting for me in the car, so I’ll see you around,” I said, sliding off the table and walking out the door, for the last time, pulling on my jacket as I went. I was finally rid of that place for good. I never had to go back in there again. I never had to do leg lifts or calf raises ever again. I was free of my knee. I felt like flying.

Chapter 20

“Sidney Crosby is a wuss,” was all Ken said to me when I walked, more like hobbled, into Physical Therapy on a bright day, early in February. The Steelers had just won the Super Bowl and all of Pittsburgh was riding high except for the members of the Penguins, who continued their atrocious losing streak.

“Ken! Stop insulting my boyfriend. My God,” I said with exasperation as Dan, a physical therapist in training, led me to my usual table. He gave me a sympathetic look as if to say, “I’m sorry he’s such a dick.” I actually didn’t mind being teased. It made physical therapy so much easier to get through.

“So how’s school going?” Dan asked as he got me everything I needed for my exercises.

“Horrible,” I sighed. “I can’t get anything done because of this stupid brace. It’s just too hard to get everything together. And Sidney hasn’t been in a great mood lately because of how they’re losing, so I feel bad if I ask him…” I trailed off. I was making myself sad about everything that had been happening. My grades were slipping, and Sid and I hadn’t been doing too well, what with the team’s losing. He always came home in a bad mood and I was always scared to bother him.

“It’ll get better,” Dan said before walking off to help another patient. I did my exercises with thoughts flying through my head about Sidney and I and where we stood relationship-wise. Our relationship was still intact, I mean, we had sex almost everyday, but that was usually a direct result of him yelling at me about minding my own business when I asked about his games, and then some 20 minutes him later apologizing to me. But sex isn’t everything in a relationship. Our communication level had dropped tremendously. It seemed like he was always in a bad mood, and I never wanted to bother him. My thoughts were then interrupted by Ken coming over to work out my knee.

“How’re you doing Miss Crosby!?” he boomed at me as he walked up. I had taken to wearing a Penguins shirt or a Crosby shirt every time I went to physical therapy.

“Fine,” I snapped at him before surrendering my knee to him.

“Ohh, a little touchy today are we?” he asked mockingly. I glared at him and he recoiled a bit. “Sorry, sorry. So, how’s the knee been? Giving you any trouble?”

“No,” I said with a huge sigh for emphasis. I plopped myself back on the table and let my head rest on the pillow.

“Then what’s the problem?” he asked, concerned.

“Nothing’s the problem,” I said with a grimace as he began to stretch my knee.

“Trouble in paradise?” he asked with a laugh and a smile.

“Not really…” I trailed off. I wasn’t about to talk to Ken about Sid. He hated him. There was silence for awhile as Ken worked on my knee.

“Did he give you that necklace?” he asked, pushing on my knee. One thing about Ken is that he had the eyes of a hawk. He definitely noticed when I wore my Sidney Crosby brand sweatpants and that brought on the ongoing argument about who’s better. Ovechkin or Crosby.

“Yes. He did,” I replied stiffly. “It was a Christmas gift.”

“He obviously cares about you if he’s taken care of you during your surgery, and as a plus, he got you that necklace.”

“Alright Ken. How about I ask about your personal life now? So how’s the wife?” I said sarcastically with an edge to my voice.

“Barbara’s fine,” he replied. I just sat there in stunned silence. Ken and Barbara? Barbie and Ken? Honestly?

“Your wife’s name is Barbara?” I asked in amazement.

“Yeah,” he said, giving me a look. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Uh, Barbie and Ken? Ever heard that one before?” I asked, raising my eyebrows at him. Dan had wandered back over by now and was doubled over in laughter.
“Oh, good one Crosby,” he mocked. “I’m sure before you actually met Sidney, you had a poster of him on your ceiling and everyday you’d wake up and say, ‘Good morning Sidney! I love you!’ and blow him a kiss.” Dan was now on the floor in laughter and I was on the verge of tears, laughing so hard. All of this nonsense took away from the fact that my life was falling apart. I looked forward to going to physical therapy and joking around with Ken and Dan. It was an escape from the arguments that were waiting for me back at Sidney’s house.
-
“Sidney?” I called timidly when I walked into his house a few hours later. I knew he was there somewhere, they didn’t have practice. I walked down the hall and into the living room where I saw him on the couch, hands over his face. “Sidney?” I asked again, this time a little softer. He sat up and looked at me, surprised by my entrance.

“Hey babe,” he said, getting up from where he was sitting and greeting me with a kiss. I was surprised, to say the least, by his gesture. I stepped back and looked at him. He looked a little weary and tired.

“What’s wrong?” I asked concerned.

“Nothing’s wrong. I actually think that things are going to turn around for us here in the next few weeks.”

“You’re sure?” I asked, skeptical.

“Weren’t you the one who said nothing’s ever for sure?” he countered, making me laugh a little at what I said about my knee. “I just have a feeling. Go with me on this one, OK?”

“That’s what I’m here for,” I said as he pulled me into a massive hug.

Chapter 17

The first week after surgery was an excruciating smudge on my memory. I was always one of those do it yourself people, and having to have someone else do everything for me was killer. Even though I was extremely grateful that Sid put his things on hold for me, it killed me to not be able to do anything.
My nauseous-ness didn’t cease for at least three days, so every time I got up and moved, I took a bag with me, preparing myself for the inevitable anesthesia induced vomiting. Everyday I’d feel just fine on the couch, eating and joking with Sid when he was home, but as soon as it came to getting up to go to the bathroom, my day would be ruined. I took to drinking very little fluids to keep myself from having to move.
The office chair was still my preferred choice of mobility seeing as my hip was sore from where they injected the blocking agents. Anytime I tried to raise my leg myself, I’d have to stop due to an immense amount of pain that would shoot up my hip and through my torso. It seemed as if everything but my knee hurt; my hand hurt from where they initially tried to put the IV, my hip hurt, and my head hurt.
-
Christmas was a dull blur due to an excessive amount of pain-killers I had taken the night before. The block had worn off on my knee in the middle of the night and I had woken up on the couch in tear-worthy pain.
“Sidney!” I screamed, even though he was asleep on the next couch over. He sat up and looked around before realizing it was me that had yelled.
“I’m here! What is it?!” he asked, right by my side within seconds. Tears were leaking out of my eyes by now.
“My knee hurts!” I wailed. “I need my pain-killers! Now!” He had moved them back into the kitchen because I hadn’t needed them, but at my words, he was sprinting into the kitchen, feverishly looking through the cabinet with his other medications. As soon as he found them he was back by my side unscrewing the cap. I was close to sobs by this point. The pain from my knee was radiating up and down my leg; it honestly felt like someone was trying to drive an ice pick under my knee cap.
“Here,” he said handing me a pill and a bottle of water.
“I’m going to need more than this,” I managed between the waves of pain.
“Here’s another,” he said without hesitation. I put both pills on my tongue, took a swig of water and swallowed before I had time to think about how big the pills were. He stood over me until the drugs kicked in and I felt myself getting woozy and finally drifting back off to sleep.
-
Exactly a week after my surgery, Sid drove me to my physical therapy appointment. I had yet to bend my knee and I was not looking forward to doing so. Sid walked me in and sat with me until they called me into a high-ceilinged room with multiple training tables, all with pillows.
“Don’t be nervous,” he said, picking up on the fact that I was practically shaking. “I’ll be in the car when you’re done.” He kissed my forehead before I crutched myself through the doors and over to a curtained off table where I was told Ken would see me shortly. Ken? What kind of a name is that? I’ve never met a Ken in my life. Like Malibu Barbie and Ken. I busied myself with picking at my hangnails that had gotten out of control the past week and staring around at the small area I was in. There was hand sanitizer on the wall to my right and a chair on my left. Just as I was beginning to inspect the ceiling and the array of lights, Ken walked into my little cubicle of cloth. He was relatively tall with short brown hair and a mulberry colored birthmark residing on one side of his neck. He wore wire glasses and had a serious air about him.
“Alright, so you had knee surgery when?” he asked, pulling up a rolling chair I failed to notice. I swallowed and took a breath.
“A week ago.”
“How’s it feel?” he asked, his seriousness abating a bit.
“Pretty good… I haven’t bent it, so I don’t really know. It feels fine just sitting here,” I rambled. I had to make myself shut up. Whenever I’m nervous, I ramble, and something about being there in such a tiny space with a not unattractive man, getting ready to do excruciating physical therapy, made me nervous. He just looked at me and laughed, all seriousness gone. It was then that I noticed the gold band on his left ring finger, and for some reason, that relieved some of the nervous energy I had.
“Alright, we’re going to start off with some simple things like heel slides and leg extensions,” he said, getting up and moving the curtain back to its original resting place against the wall. “Why’s that on your brace?” he asked, getting up and really looking at it for the first time.
“It’s a dish towel. The brace was hurting, so I put a dish towel to keep it from rubbing and chaffing. It looks dumb, I know, but it helps…” I trailed off. I was rambling again.
“I know what it is. I just had no idea why it was there,” he stated, with a small laugh. I just nodded in agreement. He assigned me my exercises and before I knew it, and with a minimal amount of pain, I was done and had my brace back on, ready to leave.
“I’ll see you in a few days,” Ken said as I crutched outside to where Sidney was waiting in the Range Rover. I still couldn’t get over the name Ken. I backed into the door leading outside to open it and made my way to the car. Snow was beginning to fall, and it just dawned on me that it was New Years Eve. The days had blurred together and I was losing track of time.
“It’s New Years Eve,” I said to Sidney as I got myself in the car.
“I know,” he said, kissing me quickly. “We’re going to have some fun.”
“Sid, I can barely move. I’m not going to have some awkward sex with you,” I snapped.
“I never said anything about sex,” he said grinning at me.
“Oh, well, what do you have in mind?” I asked him.
“You’ll just have to wait and see,” he said and kissed me again before driving in the direction of his house.
-
Nothing really special jumped out at me when we got back to his house, other than the fact that I had practically moved in without having to lift a finger. Every time Melissa brought me something, she’d bring another change of clothes along with my iPod or whatever it was that I demanded.
“So what’s the surprise?” I asked him as I plopped myself down on his couch and arranged my foot up on a pillow.
“I have to make it first,” he said. “Don’t be so pushy.”
“Oh, so you’re making it…” I said with a neutral tone, trailing off, letting him draw his own conclusions as to what I meant by it. It could have meant multiple things, one of which: Gross. Whatever it is I don’t want it now. Another: Yippee! There’s nothing I enjoy more than something made by Sidney Crosby. Or even this: I’d rather choke on a spoon. He chose to think that I was insulting him, and he was right.
“Your attempt at pancakes wasn’t so good on Christmas,” I said, backing up my insult.
“I got Geno to help me this time,” he said defensively. “He’s a good cook.”
“So are you hiding him in a closet or something?” I asked jokingly, but when Sid’s face turned a bright fuchsia, I knew he wasn’t kidding. “Sidney Crosby!” I said with a smile. “You snuck a Russian hockey player in to help you make me dinner? That’s actually really sweet,” I said, my tone softening. “So where is he? I’ve never met him,” I said, but then realized that I probably looked like a mess.
“I’ll go get him,” Sid said, excited that I wasn’t mad at him. Even I couldn’t predict how my emotions and personality would be day-to-day, and it didn’t help that I had gotten my period a few days before. I was at the mercy of Mother Nature and the hormonal roller coaster I was now forced to ride. I would be happy to ride a roller coaster any day, but if it was accompanied by hormones, I’d have to pass. Sid came down the stairs with Evgeni Malkin in tow. It was then that I realized just how short Sid really was. Geno towered over Sid at six foot three, and Sid was, at best, 5’11”. I was normally on the more generous side of 5’10”, but I never thought anything of it since Sid and I are the same height, and I never felt the need to wear heels, so it never really mattered to me.
“I cook food,” were the first words out of Geno’s mouth when he saw me. He flashed his crooked grin and continued in his broken English. “Sid say he need help. I say I cook,” he said with a shrug.
“Thanks Geno. I really appreciate you helping Rachael Ray over here,” I said with a laugh. Sid just glared at me and Geno looked confused. “That’s a compliment to you Geno,” I said, and he smiled at me while Sid shot me another look.
“So, Geno, help me out here man,” Sid said, tearing his gaze away from mine. “I need help with this roast.”
“I cook,” was all I heard Geno say before I decided I needed a nap.
-
I awoke to the smell of cooking roast, not burning roast, around 6:00 and looked towards the kitchen to make sure I was in the right house. Then I remembered Sidney wasn’t really cooking. It was Geno’s work.
“How’re you boys doing in there?” I yelled in the general direction of the kitchen as I turned on the TV to get ready to watch the ball drop.
“Good!” a mixture of Sid and Geno’s voices yelled back at me.
“It smells good,” I remarked from my place on the couch.
“30 minutes more!” Geno yelled from the kitchen. I settled myself into the couch to wait out the 30 minutes until it was time for me to do my favorite activity: eat.