Once Upon a One Night Stand

    Once upon a time, there was a beautiful girl named Vivian. She was nineteen years old and lived in the magical land of Ottawa. One evening, she went to the ball and met a charming prince named Evgeni Malkin. They locked eyes across the dance floor, and fell inlove instantly.

    Okay, so not really. My name actually is Vivian, and I did meet Evgeni Malkin while living in Ottawa, however it was at the bar, not a ball, and we didn't fall inlove. We did make love, but that's a different matter.

    Every girl wants to live in a fairy tale. Every girl wants to be swept away by a handsome prince, or a charming one, or feel free to insert whichever adjective you prefer. We all want that, but we also all have a point in our life when we realize that is impractical, and never going to happen. Mine was in mid-October, over three years ago.

     Earlier in the month, I had been at the bar. It was my first year being of legal drinking age, and I was loving it. Maybe I made some poor decisions, partied to hard, drank too much, made too many... "friends." It was a phase that didn't last long. So, I was at the bar, drink in hand, on my way to the dance floor, when across the room, I locked eyes with a tall and dark haired man. Full of alcoholic courage, I went over to him. Up close, I could see his dark, almost creamy eyes, and his thick eyelashes. I tried to focus on them, but my eyes trailed across his body. I took in his broad shoulders, muscled arms and thick torso.

    "Hey," I said.

    "Hey," he answered. His voice was deep and rough. I felt a tingle of excitement in my stomach. So it began as any other drunk hook-up did. At the time, I knew very little of hockey and I had no idea who Evgeni Malkin was. I was unaware of the thousands of puck bunnies who would kill to be me. Mostly, I just cared about getting laid. And I did, once that night and again in the morning. It was fantastic, but that was all it was; a one night stand.

     Well, that's all I thought it was. A beautiful evening of lust and romance. My fairy tale, right? Until a few weeks later, I'm neasous, craving fried bananas and peeing on a stick. I bet you can figure out where this is going...

    I had no way to get ahold of Geno, no way to tell him so I just didn't. And that brings us to just over three years later, where I have a son named Logan, a rescue dog named Newt and a mortgage. I am a bartender at a pub two blocks from my home and I can't afford a car. We are happy, but it's no happily-ever-after.

    I was working one evening, getting ready to end my shift, cleaning up my section and everything when a familiar face walks in. Not so familiar as in, I knew him, but familiar like, I saw him on TV a few times. I tried not to stare as I racked my brain for who it was. As I dried a stack of damp cutlery it clicked, Gonchar! The utensils clattered out of my hands, rattling together and against the tables. I remembered something I had heard on TSN: Malkin and  Gonchar are best friends. He dedicated the hart trophy to him, even! So this was my chance. Logan and I were fine just the two of us, but I would love for him to meet his father. I ran over to Duncan, the closing bartender. He had just finished pouring Gonchar's beer.

    "I'll take that," I said, pulling it easily from his hands.

    "What? I thought you were done?" Duncan questioned.

    "I just have to do something," I said and winked at him. I approached Gonchar, set his drink down and waited. He thanked me without looking up. I continued to wait and when he still didn't acknowledge me, I cleared my throat. He looked up at me.

    "I'll probably have a few, can't I run a tab?" he asked.

    "Actually, that's not what I wanted to say."

    "Did you want an autograph?" he offered. He seemed a little put out.

    "Actually, I just wanted to... I have a favour to ask, if it's not too much trouble," I said. His eyebrows raised. "I know you and Malkin are friends, and I was just hoping you could pass a message on." To my surprise that it was even possible, his eyebrows rose further.

    "I'm not a puck bunny!" I exclaimed, "I've met Evgeni. Actually-" I lowered my voice, "-I slept with Evgeni. That's what this is about. I got pregnant, I had his son." Gonchar blinked slowly.

    "What?" he asked.

    "I don't know his number or anything, I had no way to get ahold of him. We hooked up after the bar one time and I ended up getting pregnant. I just wanted him to know... Look, here's a picture." I slid one out of my apron and across the table. I liked having it with me, but it seemed more important that Gonchar have it.

    "Who are you?" he asked.

    "Vivian Marx," I said. "Look, I better get going. If you can't pass the message on, that's fine. I just figured it was worth a shot." Silence from Gonchar. "Have a good night." I left and wondered briefly if he could even understand me, he is Russian afterall.

So that was that. I had a shot and I took it and whether Gonchar passed on the message or not didn't really matter. I did my best. No one could say I never tried.