Introductions and Explanations

“You alright up there, Hanna?” Dan Bylsma called to me, knocking me out my semi-unconscious state. I gave him a thumbs up, trying my best to smile as I urged my body to stay awake.

The practice had only been happening for about ten minutes, but for some reason, a wave of extreme fatigue had captured me, and despite my inner hockey fan’s ecstatic glow towards being invited to a private practice by one the NHL’s best teams, I just couldn’t seem to keep my eyes open. Sidney had bought me a cup of coffee when we first arrived at Mellon arena, which, coincidentally, was when my first stretch of yawns came on. The coffee was now cold, as I had placed it down on the floor just shortly before I began to weave in and out of sleep, and I was debating on whether or not I wanted to walk up the stairs and out to where the coffee station had been set up for visitors.

“Do you want another cup?” The girl sitting just behind me asked, causing me to twist around in my seat and look at her. “I’m heading up to get myself one, and I can see that you’re pretty tired. If you want, I can grab you one, too.”

I smiled, “That would be so great, thank you.”

She smiled back, standing up in her seat. “Do you take cream or sugar?”

“Yes Two sugars. Enough cream that I can drink it fairly fast,” I told her. “Thank you so much, again.”

“Oh, it’s no problem. I was getting up anyways,” She assured me, reaching down to grab the cold cup in my hands. “I’ll toss this one while I’m up, too.”

I let out another yawn as the girl headed out of the seats and up the stairs, stretching my arms above my head. I adjusted my sweater, which had become twisted at some point, before looking back down at the ice.

There was a pause in the scrimmage, and Bylsma was talking quietly to Kris and Brooks Orpik as the rest of the guys on the ice stood around chatting, waiting for Bylsma to finish.

Marc skated out from the net, lifting his mask up so that I could see his face as he stopped right in front of me. I was in the front row, just to the side of the penalty box, since that was where Marc had told me to sit. He waved to me. “Staying awake?”

I sighed, “Trying to.”

“I appreciate the effort,” He joked. “I see you’ve met my girlfriend?”

I frowned, turning to glance around me, spotting two more girls sitting a good hundred feet away from me, talking to each other. I turned back to him with a confused expression. “Is she invisible?”

He laughed. “She went to get you your coffee.”

I smacked a hand to my forehead. “Oh! Right, I forgot about that girl. She seems very sweet.”

Marc only grinned again, his eyes moving past me as his girlfriend made her way back down the stairs towards me. I turned around to glance at her, accepting the fresh Styrofoam cup of coffee from her with a small smile. She was very slim, with almost olive coloured skin and dark straight hair, warm brown eyes and a soft smile. If marc wasn’t such a sweet guy, I would say she was out of his league.

Marc made some sort of motion towards her, smiling once more at me before he turned and skated back to the bench, just a half second before Bylsma blew the whistle to call the game back into play. She tapped my shoulder, earning my attention once more. “Sorry. Would you mind holding my coffee for a second?” She asked.

“Oh, yeah. No problem,” I said, taking the cup from her. It wasn’t until that sentence that I picked up the faint French accident, making me feel even sillier over not catching on to her being Marc’s girlfriend.

She tugged down the sweatshirt she was wearing before lifting one leg up and draping it over the seat next to me, doing the same with the other leg, and the slid down into the seat, taking her cup of coffee back from me. “Thanks. I’m Veronique, by the way. You can just call me Vero, if that’s easier for you.”

I smiled. “I’m Hanna. And I probably will refer to you as Vero, only because your name won’t sound nearly as French, or elegant, when I say it in it’s full.”

She laughed. “I like the reasoning. How are you looking Pittsburgh so far?”

I took a sip of my coffee before answering. “It’s nice. It reminds me a little bit of Vancouver. Only, you know, no mountains or Canadian flags. And there’s more bridges. And buildings, like tall ones? And there’s restaurants that Vancouver doesn’t have. But other than that, same place.”

Vero laughed. “Yes, it is a nice city. It still overwhelms me whenever I am here, though.” She admitted, tucking a strand of her long hair behind her ear. “Have you gone out and looked around?”

I shook my head. “Not really. Some of the guys took my friend and I shopping at the mall, and yesterday Max and Marc took me to buy a book, but that’s about it. It’s okay, though. I was just excited to see these guys again,” I told her.

She took a drink from her cup and nodded. “Well, I still think you should see more of the city. Have you been to any of the clubs?”

“No. I’m not really a club person. But Peyton is, she’d probably love to go,” I said.

Vero nodded once more, glancing around. “Where is Peyton?”

“Oh, she’s napping at the hotel,” I answered. “She woke up super early to prepare for a date that ended up not being a date.” I let out a small giggle at the end, which I tried to cover up with a cough before I took a sip from my coffee.

Vero had a knowing smile on her face, but she didn’t say anything. Instead, she and I both turned our attention towards the ice where all of the players were lining up for the shoot out drill. Whoever scored last had to grow a moustache and keep it for the months entirety. “What would you do if Marc lost?” I asked Vero before remembering Marc was the goalie and turning to see her amused face. “Never mind.”

I watched as each player nervously made their way down the ice, one at a time, trying to shoot one past Fleury. Jordan attempted a more skilled attempt, scooping the puck up onto the blade of his hockey stick and twisting himself around as he shot the puck. It would have been more impressive had he not missed the net by three feet. Both Vero and I felt the need to stand up and applaud him as he skated past, earning an embarrassed chuckle out of him.

Evgeni Malkin was next, and I was still hoping he would lose just so I could see what he would look like with a moustache. I leaned forward in my seat, anxiously anticipating the outcome of his shot. He came down the centre of the ice at full speed, his head up the entire time. Marc skated out of the net, challenging Geno as he fastly approached. Just about ten feet away from the crease, suddenly slowed down, causing Marc to panic and quickly decide on whether he should stay out to challenge or back up a bit. He had clearly assumed Geno would be taking a hard shot from farther out, so now that Geno was almost directly in front of him, he was a little screwed.

Geno did a few stick handling moves, exaggerating the movement of his entire body so Marc couldn’t be sure which way he was going to shoot. Finally, Geno jerked his entire body to the right, twitching up his arms just a tad, causing Marc to commit to that side of the net. In one swift movement, he switched to shooting on his back hand, gently tucking the puck past Fleury on the left side of the net. Marc let his head tip backwards, an aggravated noise escaping from his mouth, which both Vero and I could pick up from our seats, as Geno let out a loud, and very much Russian, laugh as he headed to the bench to sit and watch the other players go.

“Damn it. I wanted to see what he looked like with a moustache,” I muttered, watching as Mark Eaton tried his shot, which Fleury steered off with his blocker.

Vero laughed. “Geno very rarely misses in these shoot out practices. He’s a very skilled shooter.” She took another drink from her coffee. “Sidney is nervous for this one,” She told me.

I moved my attention from Max, who fell before he had reached the puck and was sitting on the ice with his head tipped back, laughing at himself, to see Sidney. He was almost hidden in the line-up, looking so small standing in between Bill Guerin and Eric Godard, with his chin resting on the butt-end of his stick. He was staring down at the net with an intensity I don’t think I had ever seen on his face before.

“Doesn’t he hate facial hair? I read somewhere that he’s always embarrassed by his playoff ‘beard’.” I made sure to say beard in quotations, making Vero smirk.

“Well, yes. But I think something else might be bothering him.” She glanced at me, the smirk still in place as she took another drink from her cup.

I shook the oncoming thoughts from my head before they could really make an imprint in my brain and returned my full attention to the ice, managing to catch Sidney’s eye as he moved a few steps forward, slowly moving up in the line. I gave him a thumbs up, a gesture that caused a small smile to make it’s way onto his face as he nodded to me before looking back to Kris as he waited for Bylsma to give him the single to go.

---------------------------

Vero and I were waiting just outside of the player’s room, talking to one another about how we should make an effort to exchange some form of contact, as a few of the guys made their way out.

Evgeni Malkin was the first, stopping when he saw the two of us and giving us a crooked grin. He stopped in front of me, extending his hand. “Hello,” He greeted, using his other hand to point at himself. “Evgeni.”

I grinned, completely charmed by his intense Russian-ness, accepting his hand and pointing to myself. “Hanna,” I mimicked, making him laugh.

“I have not met you yet,” He told me. “You friend of Sid’s, yes?”

I nodded. “Yes. Sidney and a few of the others.”

He grinned again, turning to nod at Vero, who waved at him. “You like practice? You at game last night, too, yes? You like game?”

I was torn between laughing at his mildly broken English or squealing over the cute factor of it. “Yes, I was at the game, and I loved it. You played very well,” I said, making him wave a hand as if it was no big deal. “And your goal in the shoot out practice was amazing! I wish I could do that.”

“Oh, one day maybe I teach you.” He joked, half turning around as someone called his name from the other end of the hallway. “Okay, I go now. Bye, Hanna. Is nice meeting you,” He said kindly, looking to Vero. “Vero.”

I watched him head off, letting out a long sigh. “I have such a thing for Russians, it’s almost frightening.”

Vero only laughed, clapping her hands together when Marc emerged. I was relieved to see Sidney and Max just behind him, allowing me to move out behind the now embraced couple so Max and Sidney could see me.

“Nice fall you had out there, Max,” I greeted.

“Ah, I know!” He laughed. “I lost an edge. How embarrassing.”

“Are you disappointed that Geno won’t be sporting a moustache?” Sidney asked, half grinning at me.

“A little. But I guess seeing Jordan try to grow one will be amusing, since I’m convinced he’s Amish,” I replied.

Max and Marc seemed to have disappeared somewhere between Sidney asking the question and me answering. I frowned as I realized it, but Sidney didn’t seem to have notice. Or he didn’t care, I wasn’t sure. “What are your plans for the afternoon?” He asked me, taking a step forward, a hint for me to follow alongside.

I accepted the hint, walking next to him. “I don’t know. I guess I have to hang out with Peyton,” I said. “Speaking of which,” I could already see him clenching his jaw, “I thought you guys had a coffee date this morning?”

He sighed, tucking his hands into his pockets as his pace slowed down a step. “I guess she thought it was a date and I misunderstood.”

I smirked at him. “You don’t have to lie to me, Sidney. If you didn’t want to go on a date with her, you should have just said no.”

“I know that. But Peyton seems like a very emotional person,” He explained. “She seems to feel the most extreme of emotions. I didn’t want to turn her down when we were sitting in the middle of a fancy restaurant and have her overreact and end up embarrassing herself.”

I raised my eyebrows up at him. “Wow. Do you ever do things to benefit yourself?” I asked with a small laugh.

Sidney shrugged, holding open the one of the heavy metal doors that would lead us upstairs. “I think Max and Jordan will dedicate their time to amusing Peyton. You need a break from her, don’t you?” He glanced down at me as I passed by him to head up the stairs.

“I guess. I do find the urge to strangle her becoming an increasingly hard battle,” I confessed, earning a laugh from Sidney.

He seemed to take the steps two at a time, as in seconds he was leading me once more. “Well, how do you feel about going for a walk?” He asked, stopping at the top of the stairs and waiting for me to arrive there. “It doesn’t really matter, actually. Marc left and he was our ride.”

I was going to ask how he knew that until I spotted the window that overlooked the parking lot. “I guess I could use the exercise,” I said with a shrug, thanking Sidney as he held open the door for me once more and we made our way outside.

“Can I ask you something?” I asked Sidney as he pulled the door shut behind him and turned to look at me. “Do you like Peyton?”

His eyes widened and he lifted up a hand to nervously rub the bottom of his chin. “Uhhh, haha. Well-”

“It’s not a big deal if you do, Sidney,” I told him, forcing out a small laugh. “I was just wondering, since you and her always sit next to each other.”

“She sits next to me,” Sidney said, already beginning to walk across the parking lot. “And it doesn’t really matter whether I do or don’t,” He said, pausing a moment to twist his mouth to the side, casting a quick glance at me. “There’s not a lot of time for dating with my schedule.”

I frowned. “So you don’t date?”
He sighed. “I don’t want to put a girl through that. The media attention, the travelling, the early mornings. We could date for a full year, and by the end of it we’ve had only spent three months together. I just don’t think it’s fair to a girl.”

The wind had picked up a bit, blowing my hair into my face and causing me to try and push it back into place. “So you’ll just be alone forever? That’s pretty drastic.”

He let out a sigh, glancing down at me and noticing my struggle with my hair, tugging his hat off of his head and handing it to me. “My hairs too short to get messy,” He explained when I sent him a quizzical look. “It’s not like I want to be alone,” He began, his tone softer. “Obviously I look at Marc and Vero, or Jordan and his girlfriend, and I feel queasy with envy. But I know things are different for them. The expectations set for me, by me and the media, are higher then the ones they have. And dragging some unsuspecting girl into that and having to force her to make sacrifices I can’t reciprocate, that’s just not something I can do.”

“What if you meet the one?” I asked him, looking up at him as he seemed more interested in the sidewalk in front of us. “I mean, you know that even when you retire all this attention will still be there, right?”

“Maybe I’m just supposed to be alone,” He said. “It’s just not right to make somebody sacrifice their lives just to make me happy.”

I rolled my eyes. “First off, that’s what relationship are, Sidney. It’s compromise, sacrifice. Plus, you’ve given up almost your entire life to hockey. If I googled your name, I could see your entire life chronicled through you tube videos and photo bucket accounts. You can’t even leave your hotel on road trips until it’s been planned out weeks in advance because you’ll be mobbed otherwise. How do you not see all of this and long for a little selfishness?”

Sidney was a quiet for a long moment. Long enough that I was starting to wonder if I had upset him somehow. We probably walked an entire block before he finally spoke again. “To me, all of those sacrifices are made up for when I see a kid in the stands wearing my jersey. Or when I get a letter from a fan, or the opportunity to meet people I could have only imagined meeting. And if all of that wasn’t enough, winning a game, just one game, with the rest of my team, that makes up for it.”

I would have normally been completely charmed by this response. Once again, Sidney was showing me that he never once looked at the lack of privacy, the assumptions made about him, the hate from fans of other teams. He was grateful for it, and to top that off, he didn’t want to make someone else have to go through all of it because he was well aware of the fact that most people couldn’t handle it.

Instead, I was enraged. How dare he assume that there wasn’t a single person in the world who would be willing to stand next to him through all of this. He wasn’t even offering a chance to anyone, not even looking to see if there was someone who wouldn’t view it as a sacrifice as much as they’d take it as a lifestyle.

“Are you okay?” He asked me, his voice breaking me out of my angry thoughts.

I had balled my hands up into fists without even noticing, and by the way I could feel my pulse echoing in my head I had no doubts that I was a ravishing shade of red. I unclenched my fists and took a deep breath before looking up at Sidney’s concerned face. “I’m fine.”

He seemed confused, which I couldn’t really blame him for, but he didn’t push the subject any farther. Instead he quietly told me that we were approaching the hotel and he would be heading off back to his own place, since getting into the hotel without any guards to help him was out of the question. I nodded, taking his hat off and handing it to him before I began to make my way around the building.

“Hanna!” Sidney called out, causing me to stop and look at him. He jogged over to me, stopping a couple of feet in front of me and holding out the hat. “You should keep it.”

I looked down at the hat, only then noticing that it wasn’t the so called “lucky” hat he was always wearing in post game interviews, but a newer one. “Did you steal this?” I asked, taking the hat from him.

He ignored the question all together, seeming to debate on whether or not to say something as he looked down at me. Finally, he licked his lips and spoke. “I don’t want to be alone forever. No one does.”

I hardly had time to catch what he was hinting at before he was already climbing into his car.