Sweet Caroline (Corey Crawford)

You Just Are

Caroline

"I can't believe you didn't tell me your dad was fucking Patrick Roy! I can't believe I didn't put it together with the jersey and the goalie intuition and Coach Q knowing who it was. I was such a idiot...

No! I'm mad at you. Why didn't you tell me" he pouts after the morning skate. They were getting ready for a preseason game tonight and I was still getting grilled even though the secret has been out for a few days.

"Because I didn't want you to treat me any different" I defend.

"Caroline... you can't keep selling yourself short. I had my doubts but you proved me wrong. Every day you prove that girls belong in the league and can help. Just because your last name is one of the most famous in the world of hockey doesn't mean that you're not something to talk about too. Show people what you show me every day and I promise you will be treated with the respect and admiration you deserve" he says and I smile.

"Thanks Corey, for everything" I reply.

"Of course. So what are your plans today" he wonders.

"I don't know. I was going to walk around, get to know this place a little better and get out of the apartment" I shrug.

"If you would like, I can show you around" he offers.

"Oh I couldn't possibly bother you" I insist.

"I want to..." he trails off.

"Why" I ask.

"Can't I just be nice? Take a friend around the city and go for some food" he asks.

"I guess" I smile.

"So if it's okay with you, I would love to show you around the city" he offers.

"Okay."

I change into more comfortable clothing and meet Corey at the front of the building. We hop into his car and drive off into the heart of the city. We park at his apartment complex and walk to the park from there.

"So tell me about yourself" he says as we walk around.

"I am pretty much as advertised. My mom and Dad had me when they were young and didn't have any other kids. I grew up watching my dad play and I loved every minute of it. I was a few months old when he won the first cup and he put me in there. Of course I don't remember it but there are some great pictures. I was born back home in Quebec City but grew up in Montreal and eventually Colorado. We moved back to Montreal when he retired so we could be home for my moms treatments and kind of stayed there. I'm a pretty simple person, I love learning things whether it's about where I am or who I am with. My mom was a writer and she always told me to keep my brain going. I was homeschooled so I always had my nose in a book. If I didn't I was at the rink learning from the best" I explain.

"Where is your mom, she sounds awesome" he admits.

"She passed away a little after my dad retired. He wanted to come back to playing after she passed but he couldn't bring himself to do it" I say softly.

"I'm so sorry, I had no idea" he replies frantically.

"It's okay, really. I had a good 20 years with her before she left us" I admit.

"I feel bad now" he claims.

"Don't. I have nothing but wonderful memories with my mom. She was a great woman, tough as they come and so kind to everyone around her. I hope I can be half as great as she was" I insist.

"I think you're pretty great" he claims and I feel my face heat up. That's new.

"Thanks" I smile. "So what about you, what made you want to do the hardest position in all of sports" I ask.

"Honestly" he asks and I nod. "It was your dad" he claims and I smile. "I'm sure you hear that a lot though."

"Not really. I don't know if you know this... but I don't get out much" I laugh and he smiles.

"Yeah, but that's what makes you all the more interesting" he claims.

"What about you? Who is Corey Crawford" I ask.

"I pretty much fit the goalie description. I'm kinda weird, I say things I shouldn't and I've gotten hit in the head one too many times. But I love what I do, I wouldn't want to be doing anything else anywhere else. I love Montreal and that's forever my home, but this place is pretty great" he explains.

"I was really hoping I liked it here" I admit.

"I was too" he smiles.

After walking around and looking at all the nice things in the park we look for somewhere to eat. We end up in a nice restaurant by the water and grab some food there.

I look around and this place was a lot nicer than what I initially thought. It was pretty romantic and the prices were a lot more expensive than I would ever spend on myself.

"Do you come here often" I ask trying to start a conversation.

"Yeah, this is a common place for the team to come after games. They're open late and everyone who works here is super nice" he explains and I nod. You would have to be a professional athlete to come here a lot.

"So where's your girlfriend at" I ask and he shifts in his seat. He always got uncomfortable when someone brought her up when I was around. He sure as hell never told me he was in a relationship and I know he was trying to hide it from me.

"She's at work" he finally answers.

"Would she be okay with me being here with you right now" I ask.

"She's not even okay with me working with you" he scoffs and I groan.

"Listen Crawford, you are a cool guy and I love hanging out with you. I see a lot of my dad in you and there is nothing I want more than to get you to that level. But I can't do this... whatever this is" I sigh as I point between us

"We're just hanging out. I wanted to show you around and get to know you better, there's nothing wrong with that" he defends.

"Then why would your girlfriend have a problem with it if there is nothing wrong" I ask.

"Because that's the way she is. She's controlling and manipulative and borderline crazy" he snaps and the table falls silent. "I'm sorry... I don't know where that came from" he whispers.

"It's your subconscious Corey. It is what you want to say, what you have always wanted to say, but for whatever reason you are not allowing yourself to. I've seen it happen with my dad a lot. For some weird reason athletes got it in them that they can not have emotions, or if they do they can not share them. What made my mom so great for my dad is that she would get him to spill his guts. His success came from skills and hard work, but it also came from my mom. How she got him to talk and look himself in the mirror every day and be proud of who he sees. Never complain about something in his life he knows he could easily fix. That's why when she passed my dad couldn't go back to playing, physically he could still play. But menatally he was lost" I explain.

"I don't talk about my feelings a lot" he admits.

"I can tell. They're begging to get out" I notice.

"I'm not good with my emotions. I don't know what they mean or how to express them to somebody" he claims.

"You just told them to me..." I trail off and he sighs. He looks up at me with those big brown eyes and he looked defeated.

"You're different" he claims.

"Different how" I ask.

"I don't know" he shrugs. "You just are."