30. Astrid
After the weirdness of last night, I’m careful to feel hopeful about the future. I know I was devastated reading those things about me online, but Sean looked out right depressed. And so damn guilty. I could tell he didn’t believe me when I said I understand what choice I made.
A part of me is surprised that he hasn’t tried to push me away, another part of me isn’t sure that he won’t try to in the future.
It’s a shitty feeling regardless, to have every aspect of my life teetering on the edge of something that I have no control over.
The roar of the crowd fills the arena, but my attention is solely on the fast-paced chaos playing out on the ice. The game is intense, the energy palpable, and I cant help but feel a surge of pride watching Sean maneuver with skill and grace. Hockey has become such a significant part of our lives, intertwining our paths in ways that I could have never anticipated.
I’ve started to like the sport, even. Well, I like going to the games. The air is cool, and his jersey is warm and comforting. I feed off the energy of the crowd.
Then, in an instant, the exhilaration shatters.
Getting attacked in hockey is a given, and I knew it was only a matter of time before Sean was on the receiving end of it, but I never anticipated something like this.
I see him go down, the sickening thud of bodies colliding echoing through the arena. Time seems to slow as blood stains the pristine ice, a vivid contrast against the stark white. Sean’s blood. Panic clenches my chest as I recognize the pained look on his face through the gap of his helmet, a sight I never wanted to witness.
It’s too much.
Without a second thought, I jump to my feet, my heart pounding in my ears.
No, no, no.This can’t be happening. He needs to get up. He has to be okay. Fear spikes my pulse. He can’t be hurt.
Instinct propels me forward, my only focus on Sean.
The trainer meets Sean on the ice, his sense of urgency evident. The sight of him, vulnerable and injured, rends my heart. I want to reach out, to reassure him that Im here, but the barrier of the rink keeps me at bay. Helplessness consumes me.
The intermission between periods feels like an eternity. Finally, Sean is taken off the ice, his eyes meeting mine for a fleeting moment. The connection is there, a silent understanding passing between us. I need to be there for him now, just as he was for me when I needed it most.
In the hospital room,I find him, the sterile scent of antiseptic and the low hum of machinery creating an atmosphere ready to escalate my anxiety. Sean looks worn, a contrast to the usual vitality that defines him on the ice. I cant stand the distance between us, the walls that seem to have risen.
Hey, I say softly, my voice breaking through the silence. Oh god, is he going to be okay? Am I going to be okay?
Sean manages a small smile, but it doesnt reach his eyes. Hey.
Im here, I assure him, wanting to provide the comfort he gave me during my darkest moments. But instead of gratitude, I sense a subtle withdrawal.
As I insist on helping him, my intentions are met with resistance. Sean seems reluctant, almost avoiding eye contact. It’s as if my desire to care for him is exacerbating the divide between us.
Maybe, I speculate, he didnt want our relationship to become so official. The recent media attention, the dedication of a goal, and the public embrace might have been overwhelming for him. And then the other night when he wrapped me in his arms, shielding me from the intrusive lens of the media.
Alright, I pause, my gaze searching his for any sign of reassurance. Ill give you some time alone then.
The room hangs heavy with unspoken emotions. I turn to leave, desperate for him to call me back, to defy the growing distance. But he doesn’t. The silence persists, and I exit, leaving the door ajar.
As I stand in the corridor, shifting back and forth, uncertainty lingers, taking hold of my movements and crawling up my skin, making this somehow even more uncomfortable. And embarrassing, I think. He doesn’t even want me here. When things go wrong, he wants to push me away. Because I don’t mean anything to him.
No, that isn’t true. He wouldn’t have made my birthday so special if I meant nothing to him. He wouldn’t have taken care of me when I sprained my wrist. But Sean is in his own head right now, and I understand him well enough to know that when he gets like this, there’s no life ring strong enough to bring him back.
I swallow and walk quickly towards the elevators. This can’t be happening. I’m so frustrated that now, when the roles are reversed, he wants nothing to do with me. It doesn’t make sense.
I jab my finger against the lobby floor button, only relaxing when the elevator doors close and the lift moves.
A single tear escapes and I swipe it away before anyone can see.
These new, confusing boundaries that have emerged between us cast shadows over the connection we once shared. Did I imagine it all? Was it only for the sex?
That makes a sickening pit open in my stomach.
That can’t be. But he didn’t bother to explain, so Im left grappling with the ache of witnessing Seans vulnerability, unsure of how to bridge the gap that has grown between us, wondering how this could all possibly be my fault.
I just wish he would let me in.
As I get in the car to drive, I call Heather. She answers on the first ring.
“Is Sean okay? Are you okay?” she asks, breathless. She sounds worried, and I imagine her pacing back and forth.
“He’s been admitted overnight,” I say, choking on the words as a cry threatens to shudder through my chest again.
“Oh, Astrid, it’s going to be alright, okay? Everything is going to be alright.”
“He doesn’t want to see me, Heather.” The tears are back, flowing freely as I let my thoughts unload. “You should have seen him. He wanted nothing to do with me. It’s like my presence bothered him more than the injury did.” I sob.
My eyes are so blurry that I can barely see anything besides the glare of the passing headlights and the sparkle of the streetlights that I pass.
“That’s not it, Astrid, he’s just scared. And probably angry at himself for getting hurt. Men don’t like to seem vulnerable, you know?”
“I don’t think he wants me.” I hate the weakness in my voice, but it feels good to finally have a person to voice my fears to. I didn’t realize that I’d been holding them in for so long. “He doesn’t want me. And tonight confirmed it. I was convenient to him, nothing more.”
“Astrid…” her voice trails off. I can tell that she’s trying to say the right thing. I want to laugh. As if there could be a right thing to say in this terrible situation. I gave a piece of myself away to a man who’s so busy he could only ever love himself, and I’m surprised when he pushes me away.
I’ve been stupid.
“Astrid, listen. Give Sean a little time...” She clears her throat, and I can hear her movements shift as small sounds echo over the phone. Jake’s tiny voice fills the background.
I sniffle. “I’m sorry. I know that you’re busy, I didn’t mean to bother you,” I say. Of course she has Jake tonight. I’m being silly and selfish. It’s not that big of a deal. Maybe I just need some sleep.
“Oh, honey. You’re not bothering me, Astrid, listen, I always have time for you. Always.” I hear her pull away the phone to shush Jake, whose laughter bubbles up. “Listen. Everything is going to be okay.”
I’m tired of hearing those words. They don’t mean anything. It’s just something we say to people when there’s nothing else that we can do to make them feel better.
“Right, right, I know,” I sigh. I’m thankful for Heather, but she’s right. Even if she doesn’t know it. Because no matter what Sean wants or doesn’t, everything really will be okay. Because I have me. And that’s always going to be enough. “I know. Thank you for answering the phone…” I pause. “I just needed to get that off my chest.”
“I’m always here for you, Astrid, okay? I promise.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”