Okay, so this is something that I wrote to try and get over my writer's block. I want to make it perfectly clear that I realize that there are a lot of fragmented and incomplete sentences. I felt that this story worked best in that format so it is on purpose! And also, I know absolutely nothing about hockey and how it works, so I just took how minor and major league baseball works and used that to describe how to work your way up in hockey.
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Five months. Five long months. Months of long dirty bus rides to small minor league arenas that at best were usually half full. Months of greasy diners and cheap motels. Of cut throat hockey with each "team member", if you could call them that, trying to prove themselves, and if that were at your expense, then so be it. He had known it would be hard, but he had seen this as a stepping stone to the big time. To the big contract with a hefty signing bonus, to playing before sold out crowds in games that were televised, to Stanley Cup finals and MVP trophies. But more than anything, to giving her the life that he felt she deserved.
Five months. Five long months. Months of painful separation and devastating loneliness. Months of hearing her voice but missing her face. Months without feeling her touch or in return touching her. Of seeing the exasperated expression on her face as she said his name as only she could, as he pushed her buttons as only he could. Of holding her close and feeling her heart beat against him as she slept. Of being able to wipe her tears away as she cried. Cried because graduate school was tough, because her jerk of a boss couldn't see past the fact that she was a female and realize the brilliance that was before him, and most importantly, cried just because she missed him. All he could do was wipe away his own tears and hope that she couldn't hear them in his voice, as he did the best be could to comfort her with thousands of miles between them.
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Five minutes. Five long minutes. Five minutes until he didn't have to rely on his imagination and his memories to get him through another day. Five minutes until he's home, because home is wherever she is. Five minutes until he tells her that his dreams, no wait, their dreams, are coming true. That finally, a NHL scout had seen what they knew was there all along. Five minutes until he gathers her in his arms and whispers in her ear, telling her how much he's missed her, how much he loves her. Tells her how wonderful and special and beautiful and perfect she is. Five minutes until he cradles her face in his hands, until he looks into her glistening eyes, until he kisses her quivering lips.
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Five seconds. Five long seconds. Five seconds for her to open the door after he calls her from outside. For her to run down the steps and into his arms. For him to hold her close and inhale her scent. For him to feel the movement between them and to step away and look at her questioningly. To see her simply smile as his brain goes into overdrive, processing the sight before him. For the realization to hit him that while he thought he was making great sacrifices on the road, she was the one making the ultimate sacrifice for him. Her sacrifice of silence. Silence through a positive pregnancy test, through morning sickness and fatigue, through mood swings and cravings. That was the ultimate sacrifice, because her silence had allowed his dream to awaken.
Five months. Five long months. Months in which his world turned upside down and then somehow fell perfectly into place. Well, actually cancel that. Four months. Four more months….
