Rating: R
Original Date of Completion: November 2002
Disclaimer: I own nothing. None of this ever happened. It is all fiction conjured in the confines of my demented little mind, so don't sue me.
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I wish I could just make you turn around
Turn around and see me cry
There's so much I need to say to you
So many reasons why
You're the only one
Who really knew me at all
So take a look at me now
'Cause there's just an empty space
And there's nothing left
Here to remind me
Just the memory of your face
Take a look at me now
'Cause there's just an empty space
But to wait for you
Is all I can do
And that's what I've got to face
Take a good look at me now
'Cause I'll still be standing here
And you coming back to me is against all odds
That's the chance I've got to take
Take a look at me now
Phil Collins "Against All Odds (Take A Look at Me Now)"
Used Without Permission
I stare at the card still in the disbelief I'd been in the day it arrived. "Come party with the Cup" it reads in bright red letters. I check the envelope again to make sure it indeed came from whom the card proclaimed. Kris Draper's name adorns the outside, further cementing my disbelief. I never would've expected to be invited to a party he threw. His boyfriend is Mathieu's best friend. And Mathieu...Well, he is Mathieu.
It pains me more than words to have my last images of him be from that night. Seeing him standing there in the rain, so broken, so lost, it shattered me. And knowing that I had caused it, that I'd put him through that much pain, that was the reason for my new pills with the smiley faces on them.
I never even gave him a real reason why. I say it was for my kids, they were the reasons I retired and came back to the Czech Republic. I say they wanted to come here, that I didn't want to raise them in North America. Those are all lies. My kids didn't want to come here. And I think they hate me for making them do it. I didn't want them to grow up in America, but that's not the reason I left. I left for one very simple reason. Fear.
The night we won the Cup was the most spectacular night of my life. But the next day quickly became the worst. When I didn't come home that night, my wife got suspicious. Somehow, I still don't know how, she found out where I was, and everything about my love with Mathieu. When I returned home the next morning, she blew a gasket. She yelled for hours while I tried to calm her down. All of my attempts failed. If anything, they served to anger her more. And it was in that anger that she spoke the words that sent me on the path to this person I am now.
"You WILL retire, and end that...whatever it is you have with him, or you'll never see your kids again. We'll go back home alone, and you'll never see any of us again. I sweat it to you, Dominik!"
It took so long for her words to sink in. For hours I sat alone in my den, hoping desperately that I'd wake up from this nightmare. When that didn't happen my heart shattered, because I knew then what I had to do. I had to let my Mathieu go. It took me a lifetime to find true love, and now I had to set it free. Hockey meant nothing to me compared to that. Mathieu meant the world to me. But I knew that I had to let him go. As much as I loved him, I knew there was no way I could live without my children. So I did it. And I crushed the spirit of the man I loved without so much as an explanation.
I wanted to explain it to him. The day I retired, I must've called him close to 100 times, even before he would've heard my announcement. He never answered the phone. I wanted so desperately to go to him, to tell him why, but I could never find the courage. Anytime I so much as moved, Alena glared at me, almost daring me to defy her. And deep down inside, I was scared. I was scared to see him. I myself was broken inside, and with everything he'd been through in the past, I'm knew he was worse off than me. I wasn't sure if I could handle seeing him like that.
Unfortunately, I got to find out. When he showed up that night...it was like having my heart ripped from my chest. He was so broken, so lost, not even a shred of my Mathieu could be seen. Even through the rain, I could smell the alcohol on him. I tried to tell myself that it was going to change him, make him say things he didn't mean. That was a good plan in theory, but it failed when tested. When he accused me of never loving him, my heart broke. I remember so vividly grabbing onto him and telling him everything. Or in the moment what I thought was everything, but was really nothing at all. I told him the truth, I had to go for my children. But what I never said was I had to go to keep them in my life. My mind was so clouded it never occurred to me what I wasn't telling him. I'm not so sure it would've made a difference anyway. When I yelled at him and told him what I did, I saw his eyes change. When I'd first looked into them that night they were full of nothing but hurt and sorrow. But when I spoke, I saw that turn to rage. He shoved me away from him, sending me crashing against my porch. As I hit the concrete, I knew that I'd done what I needed to, I'd ended it with him. But in the process, I'd killed him. Hearing him speak so calmly, I knew he'd reached the point where he couldn't feel pain, the numbness of living death. And I'd driven him there. I watched him drive away from me without even a glance back. It was in that moment where I myself died. Because with him went my heart, and any ability I had to ever love anyone again.
From what I hear, he fell apart. I never had the guts to see for myself. Instead I just packed up and returned to the Czech Republic where I proceeded to fall apart. For nearly a month I didn't leave my house. I stayed inside, barricaded in the basement where I could cry until I fell asleep. That was the only way I could fall asleep. I'd tried to sleep normally once, in bed with Alena. But when she touched me in her slumber, I became ill. I vomited at least three times that night, and fell asleep curled up in the bathtub. The next day I'd moved into the basement, where I could be alone and cry about Mathieu as often as I needed.
And that turned out to be often. I could never get him off of my mind. As the weeks went by, it did get easier. Alena was never home, so it was often just me and my kids, and they were the best distraction I could ever ask for. I was doing very good, devoting all of my time to my children, only speaking to Alena when absolutely necessary. Mathieu was still an everyday thought, but the constant ache and pain had subsided enough to live a somewhat normal life.
And then the invitation came. The shock of receiving it at all was enough to leave me dazed. For the entire first day I did nothing but stare at the envelope, occasionally reading the card inside. I couldn't believe he would invite me after everything that happened. As amazing as that was, that day I didn't even consider actually going.
The next day was different. I'd all but convinced myself I was going by the time my kids came home for lunch. I told myself what the invitation meant, it meant a chance to make amends, to receive closure, to maybe allow both of us to move on with our lives. Or maybe, a fleeting hope of renewing the love. It was all something I'd thought about since I'd got to the Czech Republic. I wanted desperately to see him again, but I knew I'd never have the guts to go back. The invitation provided a free and clear excuse to return. When I went to sleep that night, I told myself I'd book the flight in the morning.
But the next day things changed. The sports programs that my children went to during the day were cancelled for the day, so they were home with me. We spent the entire day together. I took them shopping, out for ice cream, generally anything they wanted. It was wonderful to spend such time with them. We spent the entire day laughing and joking. That day was the first day I didn't feel like they hated me for making them come here. For the first time since I'd left Detroit, I felt loved. And for the first time also that day, I didn't think about Mathieu. It wasn't until I crawled into bed late that night that I even remembered about the invitation. I stared at it for a while as I laid in my bed, my stomach twisting up in knots. I remembered what I'd say the day prior but never accomplished. And then I remembered what Alena had threatened before we'd left Detroit. My stomach throbbed in response. I couldn't lose my children, especially not after we were finally reconnecting. As I drifted off to sleep, I rehearsed in my mind what I'd say to decline the invitation.
But as I slept that night, I dreamt of Mathieu. He came to me in the dream, basked in a glowing white light. I remember how happy I was to see him. In the dream, we both looked so happy. Then he spoke, and the words he spoke turned it in a flash from dream to nightmare. "You did it Dominik, you killed me." When he finished talking, he floated away, and the world went dark around me. I walked around in bewilderment briefly until the Earth crumbled beneath me. I fell for what seemed like forever. But I did eventually land. But when I did, I immediately wished I was still falling; I'd landed in a casket. Mathieu's casket.
The realization of where I was struck me in an instant. I tried to fight my way out, but the lid was slammed down before I could, draining the light from my eyes. I laid frozen in the casket, afraid to move, afraid to speak. I felt myself start to shake, and felt my pulse start racing. My breaths turned to gasps, sweat dripping down my forehead like flood water. My pulse raced faster and faster, the throbbing sound more deafening with each beat. I started to feel woozy, and came immediately to the conclusion I was suffocating. I clenched my fists together, and thought of my children, wanting my last thoughts to be of them. My breaths became strangled, and I started drifting in and out of consciousness. Then just as I thought I was done for, a bright light flashed in front of me.
My breathing steadied, and I laid there completely captivated by the light. As I stared at it, it seemed to get brighter, making me squint until I had to shut my eyes all together. Even through my closed eyelids the light was blinding. I tried to reach up and shield my eyes, but my arms wouldn't budge. I struggled and struggled, but with each movement the hold on my arms grew tighter. I began to scream in panic, trying to break free, but the hold on me stayed firm. Then in a flash, the white light went black, shrouding me in darkness once again. It was then that I heard his voice. It started as a distant whisper, but it grew in volume with each word he spoke. I called out to him, my cries echoing off the cold steel. His voice neared closer and closer, answering my cries. Then, it just stopped.
It seemed like I laid there forever, waiting for something to happen. I listened only to my labored breathing, hoping against hope that Mathieu's voice would return to me. I whispered to him under my breath, calling to him to return to me. His voice answered me, but with words I didn't want to hear. "You killed me. Now I kill you!" As soon as he'd finished, I felt a sharp pain in my stomach. I looked down and saw blood, glowing strangely bright in the darkness. The pains shot all over my body, more blood exploding from each spot. I tried to struggle away, but the loss of blood had so quickly weakened me. With my last bit of strength, I whimpered out to Mathieu that I was sorry. A cantankerous laughter was my initial reply, followed immediately by words that still haunt me, even when awake. "You didn't look sorry when you left me." The words barely had a chance to process before the white light reappeared before me. Except this time, I could see that it was Mathieu. And in his hand, I saw an axe. He glared down at me viciously, and lifted the axe. Thankfully for me, I was jarred awake by my own screams before the axe had a chance to hit me.
It was that which led me here. There was no way I could sleep after such a dream, I was utterly terrified. So many times in the early aftermath of that dream I wanted to pick up the phone and call Mathieu, I guess to just make sure it was actually a dream. I'd even had the phone in my hand at one point, but I still couldn't find the courage to dial. I was too scared. I would just stare at the numbers, watching my hand get shakier as it stretched out to them, my coward mind screaming at me to hang up. It won out in the end, I never made the call. But fear still surged inside me, I was too frightened to sit alone in my basement. I was too afraid that I'd fall asleep and that awful dream would return. So I'd went upstairs and made it as far as the kitchen. I'd been drinking mug after mug of coffee, filling my body with enough caffeine to keep me awake for days ever since. That was at 5:00 A.M.. It was quickly approaching 8:00 now. My children would awake soon, and head straight here for breakfast, then leave me for cartoons. That was one tradition from America that they'd made sure stayed in tact.
But this time it took them another half hour or to before they woke, leaving me all that time alone with the envelope. I was even further away from a decision now than I ever had been. That dream had terrified me. After that, I almost never wanted to return to America at all, let alone to see Mathieu. But on the other hand seeing him, speaking to him, confessing my regret and sorrow could prevent another dream like that. I wasn't quite sure how. My mind seemed to only think of the good things seeing him could bring. The bad was never considered. He could hate me, he SHOULD hate me. He could deny to even talk to me. Or he could talk to me and say those same things he said in the dream. I could go back to America to seek healing and come out even worse. This was an impossible decision; no matter what I chose I'd feel like it was the wrong thing to do.
My deciding was put on hold though when Michael stumbled into the kitchen. I said good morning to him, which he acknowledged with a grunt. He walked past me and to the cereal I'd sat out on the counter, absently pouring a bowl. He amazed me in the morning, he did so much without being even a fraction awake. When his bowl was poured he picked it up and carried it into the television room, grunting good bye to me on his way out. I smiled and shook my head, turning my attention to my empty cup of coffee. I stared into the empty mug, debating the intelligence of cup number 19. I'd be awake for a month straight as it was, so I decided against it, sliding the cup across the table away from me.
With the cup out of my sight, only the envelope remained in front of me. I picked it up with a sigh, pulling the card from inside and sitting it on the table before me. The Stanley Cup graphic stared at me laughingly, mocking me with its printed shine. I felt strangely bitter toward the Cup, a reminder to me of how all of this had started. It was the ultimate trophy, the ultimate trophy that I'd thought had given me all I'd ever wanted. But it hadn't. It gave me a few weeks of happiness, weeks that quickly faded into the wind. And now, now I blamed it for the way I was feeling. It was my desire that led me to Detroit. It was there I met Mathieu and fell in love. And it was the Cup that caused everything to fall apart. Maybe...maybe if I'd lost I'd still be with Mathieu right now, cuddled up and reading a book to him like I always loved. Or maybe Alena would've found out anyway, and this still would've happened, Cup or not. Or maybe it really was the Cup's fault, the celebration for it costing me everything. Or maybe it was Brett Hull's fault, for costing me the Cup three years ago. His foot WAS in the crease, I don't care what he says...
"Morning, Daddy!" Dominika says cheerfully as she bounds into the kitchen.
I smile at her and tuck the card beneath the envelope. "Good morning, sweetheart," I yawn. "How did you sleep?"
She poured a bowl of cereal, then carried it and the pitcher of milk back to the table. She sat them down on the table, the open pitcher of milk sloshing dangerously close to the envelope. Out of instinct, I suppose, I snatched up the envelope and tucked it beneath my coffee cup. Nika looked at me strangely as she poured the milk into the bowl, filling it right up to the edge. I smiled at her, waiting for her to drop the spoon into the bowl and cereal to go spilling over the sides. But much to my surprise the cereal just danced around the edge of the bowl, any chance for it to spill over being taken away with her first bite.
"I slept okay," She replied through a mouthful of cereal. I couldn't help but smile at her. "But I don't like my room. In between Michael and Mommy, I can't sleep because they snore too loud,"
I snorted a laugh, and dropped my gaze to the table. The envelope caught my eye, and almost instantly I was lost in thought. Mathieu used to snore. Loudly. When I'd first started rooming with him, I didn't sleep at all. I tried everything I could to drown him out but nothing ever worked. I was about one little snore away from demanding the rooming be changed that first night I started falling in love with him.
We'd lost a game earlier in the night to the Islanders. We'd all played an admittedly bad game, but Mathieu had made one very crucial mistake that led to the losing goal. He'd taken it pretty hard, cussing all over the ice, and especially once we were back in the room. He left without saying a word to anyone, which was very unlike him. No one really thought anything of it, defensemen had a way of beating themselves up for missing coverage on a goal, it's the same way with goalies. Everyone went on about their business, not paying a care to where or why Mathieu left in such a hurry. I thought less about it than anyone else, truth be told I was sort of mad at him for costing us the win. Yes, it is my job to stop the puck, but that's pretty hard when your defensemen gives up the puck for a 3 on me. But that is not the point here.
I went out to dinner with Luc and Boyd that night. I think they were sort of going out at the time, or at least trying to get to that point, all I know is I felt very much like the third wheel. So I left them after dinner, and went back to my room, where I planned on reading for the rest of the night until I fell asleep. But the second I stepped to the door, those plans were halted. I heard soft noises coming from inside the room, but just figured it was the TV. I let myself in, and was shocked to enter a completely dark room. The soft noises continued, but I couldn't identify them through the darkness. I fumbled around for the light switch, having no luck at all in finding it. I gave up on that quickly and stepped into the bathroom, flicking that light on. It illuminated enough of the actual room for me to walk over to the bed without killing myself. I switched the lamp on, and that's when I saw him.
Mathieu sat naked beside his bed, his knees curled up against his chest, soft cries resonating from him. I blinked a few times, I guess to make sure I was actually seeing that. When I was assured it was real, I knelt down beside him and put my hand on his shoulder. He visibly tensed, slowly lifting his head from his knees. I was more than shocked as my eyes took in his face. Tears streaked down his face, the tiny lines glowing in the lamp light, and his eyes....they were blood red. It became instantly obvious that he'd been crying, and for a significant time. The first thoughts in my mind were of the game, and the mistake he'd made to cost us the win. I'd never seen anyone take a loss so personal before, but it was the only reason I could think of for him to be sitting in total darkness crying. So I did what I thought was right, and I told him it was okay. I remember seeing his body shudder so vividly, and hearing his sniffle before he spoke.
"How can it be okay? It will never be okay. I'm worthless, nothing more than a stupid toy for guys to string along until I fuck them. That's when they leave me, they all do it. I never thought he'd do it to me, but..."
He trailed off, burying his head in his knees with a strangled sob, leaving me to think about what he could possibly be talking about. My mind was blank on what he could've meant. I was still relatively new to Detroit, and didn't know much of anything about him. All I did know at that point in time was he wore #11, played defense, and snored louder than I ever imagined one person could. I was probably the least qualified person to help him, but I couldn't stop myself. I couldn't handle seeing anyone in such obvious pain, it's the parent in me. And seeing him so hurt, so scared, he really looked like a lost child. I asked him what he was talking about three times, not receiving an answer either time. It took me kneeling in front of him and forcing him to look at me to get my answer.
"He dumped me. He fucked me, and then dumped me, just like everyone else,"
He spoke it so coldly, so emotionlessly, staring straight into my eyes. I'd received my answer, but now had even more questions. I wanted to know who'd done this to him, who'd been the one to hurt him so badly. Whomever it was deserved a severe thrashing, and I didn't know why at the time that I felt that. In the moment I was so upset hearing the things he said, and seeing him so blatantly pained, I wanted to take the head off of whomever had made did that to him. Thankfully, in a way, I guess, I never found out. Because when I asked who, he completely exploded.
"None of your fucking business who! It doesn't fucking matter, they all do it! I'm nothing but a fucking toy!"
I tried to calm him down, putting my arm on his shoulder and telling him it would be okay. It was then that the unexpected happened, he punched me. The blow staggered me more than hurt me, knocking me flat onto my back. It took a second for my senses to come back to me, but I was almost instantly back up. Mathieu's eyes were locked on me, unblinking, frozen in what looked like terror. I moved closer to him, and he flinched away from me. I frowned at him, and tried to put my hand on his shoulder, but he whimpered, causing me to drop my hands to my side in bewilderment. I asked him what was wrong, hoping desperately that he wouldn't say what I expected. Unfortunately for me, he did.
"I fought back. Now you'll hurt me, like he did. Please don't hurt me, I didn't mean to. I'll...I'll never do it again, I promise,"
My heart shattered at his words, tears instantly welling up in my eyes. That was exactly what I hadn’t wanted to hear. But it brought sense to all of his actions thus far, the flinching, the whimpering, the tensing under my touch. I couldn't believe that someone would hurt such a delicate creature so badly. I almost couldn't stand to look at him at that moment, seeing him rocking himself almost hysterically, whispering over and over that he was sorry. Tears were gushing from my eyes as I watched him, my heart aching painfully, but my blood boiling. If I had found out who'd hurt him in that moment, I would've left Mathieu alone and went in search of whoever had done it. But he hadn't told me the first time I'd asked, and I never asked again. Instead I sat beside him and pulled him into my arms. He cried out as I did it, and it took all the strength I had to not let him go. I held onto him tightly, rubbing my hands softly up his back, trying my best to soothe him. It seemed like it took forever for him to finally relax into my embrace. But he eventually did, exploding into sobs and clutching tightly at my shirt. I held him that entire night, whispering to him how I would make it okay, how he didn't deserve to be going through that, any little thing that popped into my mind. That night I couldn't explain why I felt so compelled to help him myself, why I didn't go in search of one of his friends. I didn't really try to explain it, I just concentrated on taking his pain away. It was the next morning that I realized why...
"Daddy?" Dominika's voice snaps me from my daydreams.
I shake my head and glance over at her, cringing slightly when I see the empty bowl in front of her. I must've drifted away for longer than I'd thought. Knowing her, she'd probably been talking to me the entire time, and I hadn't noticed. From the look on her face that had indeed happened. I tried my best to smile at her, and not let on that I was upset about anything. But with just reliving everything I had, my heart ached more painfully than it had in weeks.
"Daddy, you look sad," She said matter-of-factly. "Is something wrong?"
I smiled at her, trying without words to dismiss her question. A small frown came across her face, and I found myself sighing. I hated to see her frown. As far as I was concerned, my children should never frown, ever. Even if I was the reason she was frowning in this occasion. But I really couldn't tell her why I was sad. And anyone who has ever seen me in an interview knows that I'm not good at thinking of things fast. So that left me with only one option since my dismissive smile failed me. I had to lie to her. And I hated that.
"No má andìl, nothing is wrong," I said with a light smile, standing up from the table.
I couldn't handle lying to her and then sticking around for it. I picked up my coffee cup and walked with it over to the sink. I took my time rinsing the cup out, hoping that when I turned back around Nika would be gone. I heard footsteps faintly over the running faucet, smiling and thinking to myself that I'd dodged the bullet. But as I turned to put the cup into the dishwasher, Nika stood beside me. I smiled at her, and she grabbed my hand.
"Daddy, I know why you're sad. It's about Uncle Mathieu isn't it?" She asked quietly, her tiny hand squeezing mine.
I stared at her in shock. I couldn't believe the words that I'd just heard come from my daughter. How did she know? Had Alena told her? Was I just that obvious? Had I said something, or done something in her presence to let her know? Or my worst fear, had she heard or seen us that last night? That thought never occurred to me that night, it was barely 8:00 P.M. when it had happened, my children wouldn't have gone to sleep for hours. We screamed at each other so loud. Even through the rain it was possible that she'd heard us. I never wanted her to know, I'd been so careful to make sure my children never found out. I wasn't ashamed of myself, I just....it was not the type of thing I wanted to discuss with my children as this age, especially with Nika. I really was shocked that she’d said that. And through my shock, the only response I could manage was to blink.
"It's okay, Daddy," She smiled and squeezed my hand again. "I know that you love him,"
The sympathetic smile on her face was mind blowing. When had she become so grown up? And more importantly, when and how had she found out about all of this? I blinked at her in shock again, but this time I was actually able to speak.
"How....how do you know about such things?" I asked quietly, staring down at her.
She patted my hand and smiled up at me. "I'm not a baby anymore, I can figure stuff out. So is he what's making you sad?"
My mind told me that this was not the type of thing to be telling my daughter, but I couldn't bring myself to listen. I couldn't lie to her again. The look of worry, and sympathy on her face, for me, was almost too much to handle. She made it strictly obvious that she knew he was the reason for my sadness. And if she were anything like me, she'd be persistent in getting me to admit it. And maybe...maybe it would help me with telling someone, even if it was my eight-year-old daughter. I stared down at her, smiling slightly at such a grown up look on her face, then slowly nodded my head.
"Why does he make you sad? I thought he loved you?" She asked sadly, the tone of her voice squeezing my heart.
"He did má andìl. But things turned out not so good for us in the end," I replied with a small smile, even though what I really wanted to do was breakdown and cry some more.
She stared at me for a moment, before lunging forward and wrapping her arms around me. I had to fight with all I had to bite back the tears pressing at my eyes. I could not let her see me cry. It was bad enough that I'd let my sadness be shown. I had tried to keep my misery to myself, but I had obviously let it overflow, and worried my daughter. I had to fix this. I couldn't let her go on with her concern for me. She should be happy, and carefree, with a smile permanently etched on her face. Her biggest concern should be what to watch on television, not why her father is sad. I sighed softly, then bent down and kissed her atop the head. She pulled away from me, grabbing my hand once more. She kissed it softly, then stared up at me with a smile.
"I don't like you being sad, Daddy. You should make yourself happy again,"
With that she walked away from me, disappearing down the hall. I leaned back against the counter with a sigh, still in shock that that conversation had ever occurred. I still didn't know how she knew, and as I really thought about it, I'm not sure I really wanted to. All that mattered was that she knew, and more importantly that she was upset about it. I had tried my best to be happy around my children. I didn't want them to be burdened with my sadness. Being here was an adjustment for them, not for me. I should be helping them make that adjustment, doing everything I can to assure their happiness here, not worrying my daughter with my sadness, and causing that look on her face. Seeing Nika's face, and hearing that last statement from her mouth, it made the decision for me. I had to go back. I had to clear my conscience, tell Mathieu everything I felt, and every reason why. The odds of his forgiveness were not in my favor, but I knew that I had to try. If not just for myself, for my children. They deserved more happiness than they could get with me in this state.
* * * I never thought that I'd actually get to this point. Making the reservations was one thing. Actually going to the airport and getting on the plane was another. But even after I did that, I still had my doubts that I would actually go through with it. I was still so terrified about everything. I figured that I would arrive in Michigan and be too scared to actually go to Kris' party. That was partly the reason why I hadn't told anyone that I was coming. I didn't want anyone to expect to see me, and then be disappointed when I was too much of a coward to actually show up. There was no way to disappoint someone if they didn't know you were coming. That was what I kept telling myself the entire plane ride to Michigan. If the fear became too much, I could always back out and pretend I was never here. That was a small comfort at best.
But I think that was really what gave me the courage to not jump off the plane halfway to Michigan. Or maybe what gave me the courage to not run away and jump on the next plane back to the Czech Republic the second I set foot in the airport. Either way, somehow my fear stayed dormant enough for me to make it this far. But now as I stood outside the gate of Kris Draper's house, it was slowly creeping back up my throat. I rested my hand on the gate, turning around and looking back at my rent-a-car parked a few yards down the street. I could make it back there without anyone seeing me...
"Dom?" A voice yelled from behind me.
I recognized the voice immediately. It was kind of hard not to, no one else in the world sounded quite like Brett Hull. I slowly turned around, smiling as Brett opened the gate. He tossed his arm roughly around my shoulder, staggering me somewhat from the force.
"What the hell are you doing here?" He asked with a laugh, almost dragging me along with him as he walked back into the yard.
I sighed, and thought of an excuse as quickly as possible. I cringed at the thought that came to me, but decided to go with it anyway.
"You know me, I can't get enough of the Cup," I joked lamely, turning my head and rolling my eyes at the hearty laughter that came as my reply.
That was all that I received for reply. He left me standing near the door, then walked off back into the party. There were almost no people I didn't recognize here. All of my former teammates, and a lot of the staff were here. As for the other people roaming around, it was obvious that they were related to either Kris or Julie, there was a strong family resemblance. I'd yet to be noticed by anyone, which was sort of nice since I was still terrified to be here. I walked slowly toward the party, my nervousness growing with each step. I was glancing around for Kris, planning on telling him hello, and congratulations I guess, and then leaving as soon as possible. I was stupid to think that I'd ever be able to handle this. I hadn't even seen Mathieu yet and I was already panicking. I don't know how I planned to face him. I don't know how I planned to face any of them, all of his friends, people who must already know what a horrible person I am. My heart began to thud loudly in my ears, and my breaths became shallow gasps. I had to get away. I had to at least learn to breathe properly before I could face anyone. There had to be some place where I could hide long enough to compose myself.
I glanced around the yard, quickly realizing I'd yet to be seen, then stepped into the house. I had only been to this house once, so I knew of no good place to hide. It certainly wasn't in the kitchen, with the big picture window facing the party, facing him. There he was, sitting at a table with Tomas and Jiri...and Avery. He and Avery were mere inches apart, and every few seconds they'd touch, then look at each other with smiles. Tears welled up in my eyes immediately at the sight. He'd moved on. Already. Less than two months, and already I was a forgotten memory. He wasn't dead, he was most certainly alive. It had been incredibly arrogant of me to think that he'd keep hurting over me. He told me that night that he couldn't hurt over me, and he'd obviously meant it. It seemed so unreal to see, I almost couldn''t believe my eyes. Here I was, coming back to give him closure to a situation he'd already moved past. I would just be creating undue problems for him now. I should've thought enough to ask someone how he was before I came all the way back here. I should just go. I don't need to screw his life up again.
I turn away from the window and walk away from it, toward where I remember the front door being. With everyone in the backyard, I could sneak out this way and no one but Brett Hull would know I was here. And if he said anything, most would just chock it up to beer without evidence. As I step foot into the dining room, I hear noises behind me. I freeze, waiting to hear them again. When I do, I realize they were coming from the hallway I'd just passed. And letting curiosity get the better of me, I turn back around to see what they were. When the noises are identified, I can't control the smile that spreads across my face. I had a feeling that they would make it.
"You left a mark," Kirk said with a glare, clenching his hands in Kris' shirt. "How am I going to explain that one away?"
I had to fight with all I had to not explode in laughter at Kris' reply. Even with painfully biting my tongue, it was still hard to keep inside.
"Freak accident with our algae eater," He whispered, grazing his lips softly across Kirk's.
"You," Kirk started, stopping as the two of them kissed. "Are not funny,"
I could no longer control myself watching them in silence. If I had to go through another algae eater joke, I may die from keeping the laughter inside. And really, standing there and watching them in this obvious intimate moment made me feel sort of like a pervert.
"I don't know. I think that was kind of funny," I said with a chuckle, leaning against the wall.
They burst into laughter and collapsed against each other, sending a wave of mixed emotions through me. I wasn't quite sure how to feel. On one hand, it was great to see them so comfortable with each other. When I'd left they could barely look at each other without blushing. And now they were holding each other, and making out in a not exactly private place. But on the other hand, there was jealously, and resentment. I wanted what they had. I wanted to be able to be with the person I loved, and not have to worry about children, or friends, or wives. That brought the resentment in. Kris' wife had been perfectly okay with everything. She'd been the one to tell him he loved Kirk. While my wife...well, we know that story already. I know that it is self involved of me, but I couldn't really help my jealousy. I had had what they had, and it was taken away from me.
I was snapped from my thoughts as Kris walked over and hugged me. Hesitantly I hugged back, a bit surprised from the hug in general. Not as surprised as I was when Kirk hugged me, however. As I'd said, he was Mathieu's best friend. And with what I'd done...I expected him to hate me. But maybe, maybe Mathieu hadn't really been that hurt. Maybe I had really just overreacted and dreamed everything. Maybe he had been fine with everything. Maybe he never really loved me at all. That was a thought I didn't want to fathom. He'd said that night that he did, I remembered his words so clearly. "I loved you, and you didn’t love me. That's what I have to believe," Maybe he was the one that didn't love me. I didn't know what to think right now, beyond one thing that I'd realized the first second I saw Kirk and Kris in that hallway. I had to talk to Mathieu. I couldn't just run away and pretend I was never here. He may've moved past, but I never could unless I cleared my conscience. He may not care, but he had to know the truth. And it may not matter to him anymore, but he has to know that I loved...love him.
"Glad you could make it Dom," Kris spoke to me, leaning against the kitchen island. "Good to see you,"
I smiled nervously, and stared off into the dining room. "I was surprised to be invited, after everything with Mathieu," I replied, just above a whisper.
"Hey, you're still our friend," Kirk stated, surprising me for the second time that day. "And we all understand your reasonings,"
I smiled nervously again, making the briefest of eye contact with Kirk before looking down at the floor. I knew that I had to tell them why I'd really come back, and for some reason that was the last thing I wanted to do. I guess I didn't want to hurt Kris' feelings, and let him find out that I'd really just used his party as an excuse to talk to Mathieu. I didn't like hurting people's feelings. Not as though I really expected it to hurt his feelings. I guess I just didn't want to....I really don't know. I have really got to stop over analyzing everything here, and just start talking. When did I ever start thinking before I spoke?
"Truth be told," I said softly. "I came in hopes of talking to him,"
"I don't think that's a good idea," Kirk replied instantly.
That was the reaction I'd expected from him through this all. I felt tears pricking at my eyes, and tried to blink them away. I slowly pulled my eyes from the floor and locked them on Kirk's. His face was cold as ice. I'd never seen him look so serious before. I felt sweat beading on my forehead, and my pulse began to scream in my ears. If he didn't let me talk to Mathieu, I knew that I wouldn't stand a chance. That entire Grind Line, they're very overprotective. Not just over each other, but over everyone. I had been one of the fortunate protectees at one point, but now I was not so lucky. I felt the tears spilling down my face, but made no attempt to wipe them away. I just kept my eyes locked on Kirk's, begging him in silence to give me just one chance to speak to Mathieu. That was all I needed, just one chance to let the truths be spoken. I opened my mouth to speak when Kirk's eyes went from mine to Kris'. Kris smiled meekly at him, Kirk flashing a small smile in return. When his eyes returned to me, my pulse started racing. But as a sad smile came across his face, my pulse began to slow.
"Don't hurt him again, Dom. He couldn't handle it again," He said softly, but with a hint of sternness in his voice.
I breathed a sigh of relief, blinking my eyes to stop the tears that wanted to become waterfalls. "I won't, I swear," I replied, feeling my voice weakening in my chest. "I just have to....I have to tell him how sorry I am,"
Kirk nodded, and slowly I turned toward the door. I felt my body shaking as I walked. I had found the courage to tell them my reasons for being here, somehow. But now I had to face a much more difficult task, one I'd spent two months agonizing over. I finally had to face Mathieu. How was I ever going to do that? For two months I'd done nothing but convince myself how horrible I was, how I'd crushed what remained of his fragile spirit, and never even gave an explanation. I'd rehearsed this scene in my head so much. And every time it ended badly, horribly badly. But each time I could just pass it off as my paranoid mind working against me. There was no doing that this time. This was real, I was a mere ten feet away from the confrontation I'd both craved and dreaded at the same time. I stopped for a moment to catch my breath that was suddenly trying to leave me. I had one minor hope as I tried to catch my fleeing breath; I hope that all of my courage hadn't been used on Kirk and Kris.
I was spotted as I slowly walked up to the table where Mathieu sat. Avery made an effort to stand up, but Mathieu stopped him with a hand on the shoulder. He slowly rose to his feet, stopping me in my tracks. Our eyes connected, and my breath almost instantly made its escape. The look in his eyes was so cold, I had never seen such ice in that deep brown before. Now that I stood here, I thought very much that my courage had all been used on Kris and Kirk. I was screaming at myself inside my head to say something to him, anything, but the words betrayed me. Thankfully, his voice seemed to work.
"Dom," He said quietly, his eyes frozen on mine.
"M Mathieu," I stammered, clenching my hands together in hopes of stopping my body from shaking.
"What...what do you want?" He asked softly, dropping his eyes to the ground.
His words were like a dagger, piercing straight into my heart. I felt the tears swimming back to my eyes, and begged anything to not let them fall. That wish was granted, but I was still left with the problem of speaking. I knew what I had to say, it was just getting the words to come out that was the problem. I took several deep breaths, trying to force words with each, but failing miserably every time. This was never anything I'd rehearsed. In rehearsals, I'd always been the one asking him to talk, not him asking me what I wanted. That had made this unbelievably harder. It was four simple words to say, and I couldn't do it. I sighed in frustration with myself, clenching my hands together tightly, digging my nails painfully into my palm. I tried to speak again, but no sound came from my mouth. I sighed again, this time bringing Mathieu's eyes back to mine. As our eyes met, I saw tears glimmering around his brown rims. That alone gave me the strength to speak.
"We need to talk," I said quietly, keeping my eyes on him.
He nodded, then turned back to Sean. He smiled softly at him, my stomach churning at the sight. I knew I had no right to be upset about it, but just seeing that got to me. The thoughts I'd had earlier came rushing back, but I forced them to stay silent. I had more important things to think of now, like finally revealing the truth to Mathieu. I didn't need resentful thoughts running through my mind on top of those, they were hard enough to deal with on their own. When Mathieu turned back to me, he pointed toward the side of the house, and I quickly walked off in that direction.
My body was sweating in anticipation. All the nights spent agonizing over this day could never prepare me for it. Always in my mind there was the lingering doubt in my courage to actually go through with it when the time came. I always figured that something would happen to prevent the confrontation from occurring; him hitting me, him screaming at me, me passing out, a lot of different scenarios went through my mind. What had happened today was never one of them. But there is no way I can complain about it. Getting to this point went smoother than I could've ever hoped for. We'd been in each other's company for about five minutes now, and there had been no screams or sobs, I'd say things were pretty good. But my gut instinct told me they were about to go downhill. I just didn't see a way for me to get through this without breaking down.
I leaned against the side of the house, my back pressing against the shade cooled siding. Mathieu stood in front of me, but refused to make eye contact. Not that that was really a bad thing. It may make things much easier for me actually. I would probably be able to say all of these things a lot better to the top of his head than I would to his eyes. Especially if those eyes were the tear moistened one's I had seen earlier.
"Dom," He started quietly. "Why...why are you here?"
His foot kicked nervously at the grass, breaking a piece of moth from the Earth. I stared down at it in silence, fighting with myself to find words. They ran like a race horse through my mind, making it almost impossible to latch onto them. It was in that moment I abandoned any hope of making sense through this. The emotion would wind up marring my words anyway, so there was really no point in trying to rehearse what I'd say. I took a deep breath and jammed my hands into my pockets, leaning back against the house to steady myself as I began to speak.
"I...came to tell you the truth," I replied softly, my teeth chattering with nervousness.
"I already know the truth," He whispered, still kicking at the ground. "You...you didn't love me,"
"No," I snapped, the force of my voice surprising even me.
Mathieu's head lifted slowly, and his eyes met mine. My stomach throbbed as my eyes focused on his. Tears glistened in his eyes, the occasional droplet streaking down his cheek. Memories of that night came rushing back to me, bringing tears along with them. As much as I didn't to, worrying what he might think, I had to drop my eyes from his. I focused on the dirt, leaning back against the house with a ragged sigh.
My stomach twisted and churned at the realization of what was coming next. My entire body shook, chills running down my spine. I took a deep breath and tried to speak, but my voice remained mute. I sighed in frustration, kicking angrily at the dirt. I jammed my eyes shut, screaming at myself inside my head. My cowardice was making this situation even harder, for both of us. With what he'd said, I knew that I had to speak, that I had to tell him everything, and now. But I couldn't find the courage. I wanted nothing more right now than to run away and hide. I choked back a sob, running a hand through my hair. Slowly I opened my eyes, keeping them locked on the ground. It was then I saw Mathieu's feet inch closer to me, and froze as I felt his hand on my shoulder.
"Please, Dominik. Tell me," He begged, his voice thick and full of emotion, his accent more heavily pronounced than I may've ever heard it.
"Mathieu," I whispered, wincing at the sound of my own voice. I took a deep breath and forced more words to come. "I did love you. More than I ever loved anyone in my life,"
"Then why?" He almost shouted. "Why would you do that to me?"
"Mathieu..." I tried to speak.
"Why would you lie to me? Why would you look at me and tell me you were going to stay if you knew you weren’t going to?"
"Mathieu..."
"Was it just some kind of game to you? Did you get your jollies from fucking me over?"
"Mathieu..."
"Why Dom? Why the fuck..."
"Alena," I interrupted, staring into his eyes. "She is the reason for everything,"
Silence fell over us immediately. Tears flowed liberally from my eyes, but they didn't feel like crying tears. They were just...tears. Not tears of hurt, or pain, just tears directed at this entire situation. Mathieu's face was dry. The pain had left his voice from the first thing he shouted. The more he spoke the angrier his words became. The things he said shook my soul. Those were his thoughts of me. He actually thought that I'd done all of these things to him on purpose. He actually thought that I hadn't hurt about this, that he'd been the only one in pain. Just hearing him say that put an end to the hurt I'd suffered this day. I just stared at him in silence now, waiting for him to yell again before I exploded and told him everything, and made him see how I had hurt about this. Made him see how this had been the hardest most painful thing I'd ever dealt with in my life. I wasn't mad at him for screaming at me, it was what I expected all along. It was just that his screaming had made me realize that in this very moment, he was not hurting. And that was what had scared me the most, hurting him again. Seeing his anger made me realize that I wasn't hurting him, and allowed me to concentrate on only myself. And that may have really been what I needed to get through this situation.
"What?" He asked quietly after a long bout of silence.
"Alena is the reason I left," I replied softly, my eyes still locked on his.
"You...she..." He stammered, rubbing his forehead.
"She found out about us, Mathieu. That night, after the Cup. The next morning, she demanded that I break up with you, but I couldn't do it. Not while all of the celebrations were going on,"
"But why..."
"She let me stall for two weeks, and then she lost it. She...threatened to take my children away from me," I stopped and wiped a tear away from my eye. "I didn't want to do it, Mathieu. I never, ever wanted to hurt you, but I could not stand to lose my children. I am so sorry,"
As I'd fully expected, by the time I finished speaking I was enveloped in sobs. My body shook from their force, making me weak in the knees. I collapsed back against the house and slid down to the ground. I'd finally done it. After all the agonizing months I'd finally told him. It had been amazingly easier than I thought it would be to actually speak the words. But now that I'd actually said them I felt like a wreck. Those words thrust me right back into the original pain they'd inflicted. Telling them to Mathieu, and seeing his face, watching his expression go from anger to hurt so fast, it was gut wrenching.
I'd often wondered what his reaction would be when I finally told him the truth. With every rehearsal my mind had Mathieu's reaction was different. They were all relatively similar, him crying and screaming things at me I could never really understand. But the reaction he'd had today was nothing I could've imagined. He just stood there, staring down at me in silence as I sobbed uncontrollably. His face was a mask of mixed emotions. Hurt, anger, relief, I could see a trace of each of them in his eyes. But even beyond that I saw an emotion I knew all too well right now. And that was confusion.
I wasn't sure how I should feel right now. Any emotion that came to mind seemed to be right. There was no way that I couldn't be hurt right now, reliving Alena's words, speaking them to the person I had to give up. And with that came anger. Anger at not just having to give him up, but at myself for taking so long to tell him the truth, and causing us months of hurt that easily could've been prevented. But maybe even stronger than those things, I felt relief. The second the words came from my mouth it was like a huge weight was lifted from my shoulders. I felt like I was back at my retirement press conference, in that brief two minute span where I felt nothing but relief, where the pressures were finally off. The pressures were now off in this situation. I had done everything I could. I'd told him the truth, and told him how sorry I was that it had ever happened. There was only one thing left for me to do, and that was to wait. How this ended was now on him. And I'd wait forever as long as it was over.
"Dominik," He spoke softly, kneeling down in front of me. "Look at me, please,"
Reluctantly I lifted my eyes to meet his. I was almost shocked when I saw his face. His eyes were clear, the usual brightness was present, swirling around with the dark brown. The earlier pinkened face had disappeared, returning to it's normal pale tone. And on his lips, there was a smile. A smile I hadn’t seen since June. Just seeing his face brought my tears to a slow crawl. But when he laid his hand softly on my shoulder they completely ceased. I couldn’t manage a smile just yet, but the butterflies that formed in my stomach took me about as close as I'd been in months.
"Even a month ago," He started, stopping to take a deep breath. "Even a month ago, this would've made me the happiest person on Earth. But now..." He trailed off, staring nervously into my eyes.
My heart throbbed with his words. I knew what they were about. There was no way I could've watched he and Avery look at each other earlier and not realize. The image of them was buried in my mind. The way they smiled, and touched each other, they looked so...happy. My heart fluttered at the thought. This time the butterflies succeeded in creating a smile. I reached to my shoulder and slipped my hand over Mathieu's. I patted it softly, and took a deep breath.
"Mathieu, I know," I told him, squeezing his hand. "You don’t have to say any more,"
"No," He stated, shaking his head. "I have to say these things. That night, that was the single hardest thing I ever had to do, walking away from you," He stopped and turned away from me, biting down on his knuckle.
I wanted to pull his eyes back to mine, assure him that whatever he said was okay, but I couldn't. I just settled for keeping my hand on his and squeezing it reassuringly.
"For months," He resumed, his voice cracking softly. "I prayed for anything to make the pain stop, for anything to make it all not true and bring you back to me. I always thought, hoped that there was more of a reason than what you'd told me that night," His eyes returned to mine and stared intently. "But I was never brave enough to find out for sure,"
"Mathieu..." I tried to interrupt.
"Shh," He whispered, silencing me with a finger to my lips. "Let me finish," I nodded, and was rewarded with a small smile. "I was more than content to be miserable the rest of my life. But then I met Sean. And he was so alone, and so scared, dealing with stuff no one should ever have to go through by themselves. And that changed me, he changed me. He needed me. Just like I needed you that night in New York. And really, I think that I needed him too,"
He stopped and stared into my eyes, trying to gauge my feelings. That couldn't be a hard task for him because in that moment all I was feeling was happiness. Sure, I was a little disappointed that he'd moved on. But just hearing him talk about Sean, and watching the way his eyes lit up as he did made me smile. From the look of things Sean made him very happy. And really that was all I'd ever wanted for him. From that first night in New York, to this very moment, I just wanted him to be happy. For a while that happiness had been with me, and that had made me the happiest I had ever been. But now, his happiness was with another. I was adult enough to accept that. And really just knowing he was happy after all of this was enough to make me happy.
"Mathieu," I said with a smile. "All I ever wanted was for you to be happy. And if Sean makes you that way, I am happy, and wish you the best of luck. But I just had to tell you the truth. I knew from the very beginning that I had to tell you. I'm just sorry that it took me so long. I really hope that I haven't caused you any problems by waiting,'
"No, definitely not," He replied immediately, shaking his head slightly. "I'm glad that you told me. I feel a lot better now."
"As do I,"
He reached forward and grabbed my hand, squeezing it in his. "I will always love you, Dominik. You helped me through the hardest pain of my life, and made me realize that life was still worth living. I will never, ever be able to express my gratitude,"
"You don't have to," I said quietly, blinking back the tears pricking at my eyes. "I did it because I loved you. Not to be thanked,"
He smiled warmly, and brushed his thumb across my hand. I watched him lean in, and despite my better judgement leaned in to meet him. Our lips met softly, but to my surprise, there were no fireworks. Any feeling I used to get from his lips was nowhere to be found. I don't know if I would even call this a kiss. It was just lips pressed together, almost an acknowledgment of the end. The last kiss. I always figured I would be more upset when that happened, but I wasn't. I just enjoyed the warmth of his lips against mine, and savored for perhaps the last time the feeling of Mathieu's lips. When we broke apart, he smiled and kissed the back of my hand.
"I will always love you Dominik. Thank you,"
And with those few simple words, he got to his feet, and walked away. I watched him disappear into the sunlight before even attempting to stand. I was surprised at this entire situation. It turned out nothing like I had ever expected. But maybe that was good. I wasn't quite sure, I don't know if I would be until I had awhile to think about it, but I think things had ended pretty well. Closure had been achieved, for both of us now. The final chapter in the book of us had been written. And instead of the horror ending I'd predicted, it had ended with smiles and sunshine.
I really surprised myself today. I had agonized over this day for months. I never thought that I would ever have the courage to face him, and to say all of the things that I said, but I did. And instead of throwing myself at his feet and begging him to take me back, I wished him luck with his new love. When I had stepped onto the airplane to come here, this was the furthest outcome in my mind. But I was in no way disappointed. I had cleared my conscience. Mathieu knew the truth, and like I said, that was a huge weight lifted from my shoulders. He had already moved on, but now I could do the same. I had been a wreck for months. Even up to a few minutes ago I felt like a shell of my former self. I hadn't felt true happiness since that last night in my driveway. But take a look at me now, I am smiling. And against all odds, I am once again happy.
THE END
© 2002 Triple X
