No one ever denied me anything. I'm not too sure why, but I've never questioned it. My father, Charlie, was a legend. Was a God. To them, Charlie Swan was untouchable. To me, Charlie Swan was the shell of a father who regarded parenting as a financial investment.
Charlie Swan was hockey royalty. His father had been the best hockey player of his time, and then he had been the golden boy of the sport. Today, my father was owner and head coach of the New York Rangers, one of the best hockey teams in the National Hockey League, with 3 Stanley cups under their belt, this meant that I had everything that I wanted. A pony for my 7th birthday? No problem. Sold out concert tickets? Sure, how about we make them backstage passes. The best schools, the best restaurants, the best car for my 16th birthday, the best clothes, and the best life a 20 year old girl could ask for.
But the pony was to make up for him missing my birthday, the concert tickets were for missing my dance recital, the car came with a card as he couldn't make it, and the rest just seemed so trivial. I love the way I live my life, and I am grateful for the luxuries that I can afford… I just wish that I had a father instead of money. I wish that I could be someone to him, and live my life with an actual family. But now, I was an adult, enrolled at NYU, living in this amazing penthouse loft: truly the best piece or real estate in the city, and yet, so terribly alone.
When you live a life of wealth and power, you have to be wary of those around you. This wariness has kept me isolate my entire life. Since I was very young, my father had instilled this notion in me that only my extended hockey family was trust-worthy; my mother had ran off with a baseball player, and therefore could not be trusted. The only people that I could fraternize with were the hockey players, the other coaches and other General Managers. I was to stay away from the hockey wives and puck bunnies, as most of them were money-hungry glorified sluts who would not give a second thought about taking advantage of a poor little girl like me.
So, choosing to stay away from the fist fights, testosterone-loaded world of hockey, I isolated myself in my studies and art, hoping to one day own a gallery of sorts and to separate myself as much as possible from sports and business… doing everything in my power not to become my father. And I guess, hanging out with all these big macho hockey players eventually took it's toll on a girl; the novelty of being the boss' daughter often brought up awkward situations and propositions, and as much as they often became my big protective brothers, there's only so much that a 'proper young lady' can take before she starts farting, burping and scratching a metaphorical ball sack.
Other than the 'boys', I had hardly any experience with men. It wasn't because of the lack of opportunities; I was often told that I was beautiful, and I was often propositioned by boys in High School, and random frat boys in University... I guess I was just never propositioned by the right boys.
I'm sure there's something to be said about being 20 years old, rich, and still a virgin... heck, in the back of my head, I'd always said that I'd join the church if I wasn't deflowered by the age of 21. To me, it seemed pathetic, and made me feel undesirable, ab-normal. As though being a virgin meant that no man could love me, and then, in turn, made me feel like I couldn't for the life of me commit or be physically attracted to a man. Well, there were certainly moments where I was very much attracted to various men, but it never escalated to that searing heat that traveled my body... it was more of a numbness, as though my instincts were holding me back, or, alternatively, telling me to just get it done and over with.
Mostly, though, I wasn't so concerned about the sexual tension that racked my body... I worried about the loneliness that plagued my every thought. That haunted my nights alone in my apartment. That tore me apart whenever I saw couples holding hands as I did my morning run through central park. That absolutely destroyed me when I braved romantic novel or movie.
Part of me, sometimes, thought to turn to the 'boys' of the team for company... perhaps I could accompany them when they went out to clubs together, when they celebrated wins, and when they went out to 'get over' loses. But most of the new players were married, not my type, or incredibly foreign.
But it was rookie time. New recruits were coming into the extended hockey family.
And I never even saw him coming.