"How could you do this to me?"
"We had a deal,"
"Trust me this wasn't part of it," The crystal vase shattered against the wall water roses and glass flying.
"You bitch,"
"Just go to hell,"
'Trust me babe we're already in it."
"You know what fuck you,"
"Actually honey the problem you've fucking everyone but me, I will not be made a fool of."
"Funny you've been doing a hell of a job of making yourself look like a fool, dear." My wall meets the fist. I find myself walking; I end my journey in "our" bedroom. I can't help but smile at the ironic situation. We are everything, no we don't everything we are everything beautiful, young, charismatic, not to mention filthy rich. We are nothing short of perfection.
I was always the lucky one, the kid with everything. My life has been nothing short of a fairytale, filled with magic and beauty. I was always won everything, still do in fact, homecoming King, and most valuable player, first pick draft, Stanley cup.
I find my reflection in the mirror hanging on the wall. This is me, this is my life, welcome to it.
It all started with a photo. Sure I was on a major league hockey team, but I'd never played a second in a game. Sports Illustrated always features new players, I thought I was just another face in the line up. I was on the cover, shirtless, nineteen and sexy. Is it wrong to call myself sexy?
A hurricane started that day. They say I've done for hockey what Anna Kornakova did for tennis. Made it sexy, made it popular made it cool. Overnight I became a sensation, not necessarily for my talent for something much less real.
I poured myself a drink and made a toast to an invisible friend. The bitter aftertaste hit me hard as the drink coated my mouth. Something about this seemed all too familiar.
Me, alone at bar drinking away my sorrows into a cheep alcoholic beverage. All my memories came floating back to me. It the nuptials of Connie and Guy, I had planned on faking important plans. Revisiting my younger years with the Ducks had never been high on my priority list. But my lovely wife had rsvp for us. She thought it would be fun. Between the invitation and the wedding she'd found some new boyfriend she'd much rather sneak around with. SO there I was, with the Ducks. Looking around I kept feeling the shadow of me they use to know. So long ago, I'd been young naïve and ready to take this world on.
The wedding ended with kisses and clapping before we were ushered into a smaller area for the reception. I planned on sneaking away early. But something held me back. What I'll never know. I headed across the dingy room and took a seat at the mini bar they had set up. I gave over my master card and started drinking.
"Cake-eater," I cringed with distain for the old childhood nickname. "What are you doing all the way over here by yourself." I looked into the bottom of my glass and shot the remaining contents.
I turned to see Jesse Hall Charlie Conway and Guy Germanie standing there looking stupid. "Congratulations Guy I never thought the on going Connie and Guy drama would end quite like this,"
"Thank you," He said blushing.
"So are you going to come out and party any time soon or what?" Charlie asked mischief in his eyes.
"Absolutely not, I don't know what your planning Charles but it will not happen," Connie joined out little powwow.
"Connie, if I would have had any idea this is what you'd become I m would have fought harder for you too be Mrs. Banks right now,"
"But alas you are too late," Guy said wrapping his arms around his bride. I wanted to laugh. I give them two years.
"You look simply ravishing my dear," I took her hand to my lips and kissed it gently. She looked ready to melt. I smiled.
"Oh yes pictures, Guy it's time for the pictures," She said regaining her composure. The crowds around me disburse. I turned my attention back to my newly filled drink in front of me.
"It's good to know you still got it." The seat next to mine was filled. I glanced sideways not prepared for the beauty that awaited my eyes.
She looked radiant in what appeared to be the worst bridesmaid dress ever concocted. I smiled, the bar tender sat down another round. She raised her glass. The sound of cheep glass clanking together.
"Cheers," She said taking a sip. "Ugh," She cried her heavenly face scrunched up. "That's horrible how can you drink that," Setting her glass down her eyes meet mine.
"oh it's not so bad after the first five you hardly taste a thing," I said nonchalant.
"I'll keep that in mind." She started playing with her hands, a sigh she was nervous. I took her left hand from her right.
"Would you care to dance?"
"Yes, of course." She stood up and let me lead her to the dance floor. She smoothed out her gown before wrapping her arms around me. "Wait, wait," She suddenly pulled back. She yanked up her gown and slid off her shoes and sighed, "Much better, know where were we?" I smiled taking her back into me.
Other spent the night dinning, dancing, catching up and congratulating. I spent in her eyes.
Julie Gaffney was my first real love. Sometime that night between the alcohol the lighting and her breath taking eyes I fell again. But then again, dose one ever really fall out? Dose that fire ever completely die?
We ended up alone on the terrace of my hotel room. It was another fairytale moment to add to my life, a beautiful women, glowing stars and five star hotel. Our lips meet for a moment before she pulled away. I waited for the infinite but, the but that always kept us apart. It had never been the right time; there was always something in the way.
It never came. It was silenced by our next kiss, more passionate, more needy, and just plain more.
We ended our journey on my bed.
The night played out to our weakness. I was unable to stop what I'd begun. A real man would have stopped, for his wife but also for the woman he loved, the women he was holding right now. I will never be that good of a man.
I needed love. I needed her embrace. I needed her breath on my skin. I sucked in her intoxicating sent, raked my hand through her silky hair, tenderly cherished every part of her. I was addicted to her, she was my drug. I felt my high come and go and I remained lost in her essence.
But the magic of a beautiful woman, glowing stars and cheap alcohol faded quickly with morning light.
I clenched my eyes and downed another trying desperately to block out my own voice, taunting at the nothing I'd become.
But all of that had faded now. No longer a young man wildly in love with hockey or Julie Gaffney. Barley thirty and with a useless leg I've been left alone for the first time in eleven years. Forced to look at myself and actually see.
See what I am, what I was, what I've become. Nineteen was far to young to be called invincible, twenty six was far to old to be stupid enough to hurt the only thing that has ever meant anything, thirty being far to young to have lost it all.
And loose nothing at the same time. I'm still hailed as the best, my leg will heal with time. I'm still Hollywood royalty gracing the cover of everything with one of the most beautiful women of the world. I still win everything; I still have every material possession at my disposal. I have everything.
But her, but them, but who I was, that has always been missing. I know nothing of that anymore. I haven't spoken a word to any Duck in years. Because in a reality, there too good for me. Julie undoubted knew by now everything, about what she was to me. Another hotel affair. But she'll never know what it meant, what I feel.
In that way I've lost for the first time.
"We had a deal,"
"Trust me this wasn't part of it," The crystal vase shattered against the wall water roses and glass flying.
"You bitch,"
"Just go to hell,"
'Trust me babe we're already in it."
"You know what fuck you,"
"Actually honey the problem you've fucking everyone but me, I will not be made a fool of."
"Funny you've been doing a hell of a job of making yourself look like a fool, dear." My wall meets the fist. I find myself walking; I end my journey in "our" bedroom. I can't help but smile at the ironic situation. We are everything, no we don't everything we are everything beautiful, young, charismatic, not to mention filthy rich. We are nothing short of perfection.
I was always the lucky one, the kid with everything. My life has been nothing short of a fairytale, filled with magic and beauty. I was always won everything, still do in fact, homecoming King, and most valuable player, first pick draft, Stanley cup.
I find my reflection in the mirror hanging on the wall. This is me, this is my life, welcome to it.
It all started with a photo. Sure I was on a major league hockey team, but I'd never played a second in a game. Sports Illustrated always features new players, I thought I was just another face in the line up. I was on the cover, shirtless, nineteen and sexy. Is it wrong to call myself sexy?
A hurricane started that day. They say I've done for hockey what Anna Kornakova did for tennis. Made it sexy, made it popular made it cool. Overnight I became a sensation, not necessarily for my talent for something much less real.
I poured myself a drink and made a toast to an invisible friend. The bitter aftertaste hit me hard as the drink coated my mouth. Something about this seemed all too familiar.
Me, alone at bar drinking away my sorrows into a cheep alcoholic beverage. All my memories came floating back to me. It the nuptials of Connie and Guy, I had planned on faking important plans. Revisiting my younger years with the Ducks had never been high on my priority list. But my lovely wife had rsvp for us. She thought it would be fun. Between the invitation and the wedding she'd found some new boyfriend she'd much rather sneak around with. SO there I was, with the Ducks. Looking around I kept feeling the shadow of me they use to know. So long ago, I'd been young naïve and ready to take this world on.
The wedding ended with kisses and clapping before we were ushered into a smaller area for the reception. I planned on sneaking away early. But something held me back. What I'll never know. I headed across the dingy room and took a seat at the mini bar they had set up. I gave over my master card and started drinking.
"Cake-eater," I cringed with distain for the old childhood nickname. "What are you doing all the way over here by yourself." I looked into the bottom of my glass and shot the remaining contents.
I turned to see Jesse Hall Charlie Conway and Guy Germanie standing there looking stupid. "Congratulations Guy I never thought the on going Connie and Guy drama would end quite like this,"
"Thank you," He said blushing.
"So are you going to come out and party any time soon or what?" Charlie asked mischief in his eyes.
"Absolutely not, I don't know what your planning Charles but it will not happen," Connie joined out little powwow.
"Connie, if I would have had any idea this is what you'd become I m would have fought harder for you too be Mrs. Banks right now,"
"But alas you are too late," Guy said wrapping his arms around his bride. I wanted to laugh. I give them two years.
"You look simply ravishing my dear," I took her hand to my lips and kissed it gently. She looked ready to melt. I smiled.
"Oh yes pictures, Guy it's time for the pictures," She said regaining her composure. The crowds around me disburse. I turned my attention back to my newly filled drink in front of me.
"It's good to know you still got it." The seat next to mine was filled. I glanced sideways not prepared for the beauty that awaited my eyes.
She looked radiant in what appeared to be the worst bridesmaid dress ever concocted. I smiled, the bar tender sat down another round. She raised her glass. The sound of cheep glass clanking together.
"Cheers," She said taking a sip. "Ugh," She cried her heavenly face scrunched up. "That's horrible how can you drink that," Setting her glass down her eyes meet mine.
"oh it's not so bad after the first five you hardly taste a thing," I said nonchalant.
"I'll keep that in mind." She started playing with her hands, a sigh she was nervous. I took her left hand from her right.
"Would you care to dance?"
"Yes, of course." She stood up and let me lead her to the dance floor. She smoothed out her gown before wrapping her arms around me. "Wait, wait," She suddenly pulled back. She yanked up her gown and slid off her shoes and sighed, "Much better, know where were we?" I smiled taking her back into me.
Other spent the night dinning, dancing, catching up and congratulating. I spent in her eyes.
Julie Gaffney was my first real love. Sometime that night between the alcohol the lighting and her breath taking eyes I fell again. But then again, dose one ever really fall out? Dose that fire ever completely die?
We ended up alone on the terrace of my hotel room. It was another fairytale moment to add to my life, a beautiful women, glowing stars and five star hotel. Our lips meet for a moment before she pulled away. I waited for the infinite but, the but that always kept us apart. It had never been the right time; there was always something in the way.
It never came. It was silenced by our next kiss, more passionate, more needy, and just plain more.
We ended our journey on my bed.
The night played out to our weakness. I was unable to stop what I'd begun. A real man would have stopped, for his wife but also for the woman he loved, the women he was holding right now. I will never be that good of a man.
I needed love. I needed her embrace. I needed her breath on my skin. I sucked in her intoxicating sent, raked my hand through her silky hair, tenderly cherished every part of her. I was addicted to her, she was my drug. I felt my high come and go and I remained lost in her essence.
But the magic of a beautiful woman, glowing stars and cheap alcohol faded quickly with morning light.
I clenched my eyes and downed another trying desperately to block out my own voice, taunting at the nothing I'd become.
But all of that had faded now. No longer a young man wildly in love with hockey or Julie Gaffney. Barley thirty and with a useless leg I've been left alone for the first time in eleven years. Forced to look at myself and actually see.
See what I am, what I was, what I've become. Nineteen was far to young to be called invincible, twenty six was far to old to be stupid enough to hurt the only thing that has ever meant anything, thirty being far to young to have lost it all.
And loose nothing at the same time. I'm still hailed as the best, my leg will heal with time. I'm still Hollywood royalty gracing the cover of everything with one of the most beautiful women of the world. I still win everything; I still have every material possession at my disposal. I have everything.
But her, but them, but who I was, that has always been missing. I know nothing of that anymore. I haven't spoken a word to any Duck in years. Because in a reality, there too good for me. Julie undoubted knew by now everything, about what she was to me. Another hotel affair. But she'll never know what it meant, what I feel.
In that way I've lost for the first time.