famous last words | s. crosby

12; new beginnings

After the black and gold confetti cleaned itself off the streets of Pittsburgh, after the drunkenness of the celebratory champagne dwindled into week-long hangovers, and the fans stretching nationwide had packed away their jerseys until October; the dog days of the July summer finally settled in and everyone could take a breath of relief. Another season was marked in the history books.

Sidney and I had found ourselves making the near-nineteen hour drive up to Enfield, Nova Scotia; the location of his summer home, only a stone skip away from his Cole Harbor childhood home. Sidney insisted on driving, since he'd flown on so many planes and ridden in so many buses over the course of the season, he'd lost a taste for what it was like. I, of course, bet it would only last the first leg of the trip before I'd be in the drivers seat. But, Sidney had a niche for proving me wrong.

Plus, the trip would really put our relationship to the test, to quote him.

So, I sat, in the passengers seat of his Tahoe, my feet propped up on the dash (after he gave up constantly nagging me to put my feet down, and me requesting sympathy because I still pulled the hurt knee card), sharing a bag of pistachios with him. We were only about eight hours into the trip; we planned to stop just a little over halfway through, in a little truck stop town in New Hampshire riddled with fast food chains and hotel chains.

"So, do I need to book my hotel in Enfield now, or are you going to be nice enough to let me stay with you for a summer?" I ask, sarcasm riddled throughout my words. I looked over at Sid; his dark features though focused on the road ahead of him, quickly glanced over at me looking up at him. A smile appeared on hip lips.

"If I were you, I'd book now. I hear Enfield is crazy this time of year."

I rolled my eyes, sliding my feet down and repositioning myself in the seat, "Hm, I think the Crosby Inn has fairly high ratings. I'm almost convinced to book there."

"Mm, they've only got one room left. I'm definitely willing to share." He replied, a cheeky little smirk forming at the corners of his lips.

My fixated gaze on him lingered a few moments as I observed his dark features. I noticed the minuscule scars that riddled his face, coming from a lifetime of hockey play I'd guessed, that were only noticeable if you really got a good look at him. I noticed the untrimmed dark hair peeking out of the bottom end of his hat. I noticed the way his smile formed and how it ever so slightly caused his eyes to squint as his cheekbones rose. I couldn't help but let my mind wander about us and our future.

"Eli, what's wrong?"

My focus of his features was momentarily shattered at the sound of his voice. I shook my head.

"Just thinking about things."

"Like what?"

"You."

"What about me?"

I paused for a moment. We'd never had this talk before.

"What do you think the future holds for us?" I asked, almost as quiet as a mouse. I at least hoped he had a reasonable answer; you never know until you ask.

As the seconds ticked away like hours, I found myself listening to the sound of the car cruising down the highway, the swish of a car passing by, and the rattle of what I assumed were hockey sticks somewhere buried underneath an entire summer's worth of luggage.

Was this a hesitation?

It in fact, wasn't, and I-- being the person I am-- jumped to worst-case scenario of he-did-this or I-did-that. But I wouldn't have realized it was a key factor into our growing relationship.

"Well, if I'm being honest with you, I want to spend the rest of my life with you. You're the most enthralling girl I think I've ever met and you've stuck with me this long; something no one else has."

Noted.

"I was actually planning to ask you to move in with me before the summer was over; I figured you're over more often than not.. but maybe you'll get back into the competitive figure skating scene, maybe I'll win another cup. I defiantly think we'll get married down the line and have a kid or two of our own, whichever happens first. As long as I'm with you, I'm happy, and as damn cheesy as that sounds, it's true. You are so precious to me, Elliott. You don't understand."

I was at a loss for words; I was so foolishly in love.

"I'd like that. I'd like that a lot." I nodded, still searching for the right words to say, but coming up with nothing. They'd come.

;;;

When we finally reached our New Hampshire pit stop, the two of us were so exhausted we could hardly even make it up to the room itself. I think we both collapsed onto the bed almost immediately after throwing our stuff down and kicking off our shoes. Sid wrapped his arms around my frame and placed a light kiss on my temple as I quickly lost consciousness.

"I love you." He whispered, gently stroking my hair.

"I love you too."

I was abruptly yanked out of my sleep around six in the morning, greeted with the familiar sound of my phone buzzing. This time, I decided I couldn't ignore it.

I'd been getting constant calls from my doctor for a month now; I hadn't want to answer them in fear of those dreamt up situations in which she told me the worst news I'd receive. I'd no longer skate.

"Hello?" I groggily answered the phone. My stomach sank.

"Ms. Elliott! Good morning. Are you free at the moment?" The voice, who I recognized quickly as the doctor I'd been seeing ever since the accident occurred months ago.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm good. What's going on?"

"Well, we've looked at the x-rays and the diagnostics from your last visit with us. I've got some good news, and some bad news."

"...good news first, I guess?" I worried. It could be anything. I paced the room, trying to avoid waking Sidney up.

"I am absolutely honored to give you full clearance to lace up your skates again. Your physical therapy has proven effective and your knee has healed marvelously."

I let out a cry of joy. It had been nearly five months since I had taken that oh-so faithful tumble resulting in my crushed knee, five months since I had stepped foot on ice, five months since I had lived life without that stupid knee brace.

But the bad news still remained.

"I'm sorry to tell you that it's highly unlikely you'll ever preform to the standard you used to. You'll probably experience severe pain attempting to practice at your desired level; if you do decide to continue, you'll likely need a knee replacement much sooner than you would if you kept the skating regiment light. I'm not saying you can't make a comeback. I'm just saying it's probably not the best choice you could make."

The phone call ended shortly after and I sat down at the edge of the bed, still holding the phone in my hands. I looked down at it, trying to distract myself from her words; from the end of a career.

The end of an era.