***Author's note: I am so grateful to see familiar names in the reviews. Your feedback over the years always meant so much to me and helped me so much in the development of these stories. I am so overwhelmed to get so many nice responses. I feel like in some way this is a good time to revisit this story. The past few years have been difficult and I experienced a lot of sadness. Nothing like a miscarriage, but my father died and I had/have a real tough time with that. Thank you for sticking with me and I hope you continue to enjoy this story.***
Sid sat there for a few seconds after Caroline left, taking in what she had said. He got up and walked out into the hallway and towards the window that looked out onto the front driveway. A few moments later he watched as she hurried to her car, he watched as she swiped at her cheeks and fumbled with the key fob. She got into the car, the lights came on and a few moments later he watched her car pull out of the driveway and disappear from view. There was a pit in the bottom of his stomach and his mind was clouded with the thought that this might be the last time in a while that he'd see her again. It was a lot to process. There were still so many questions.
He turned and headed toward the stairwell and found his mother in the kitchen making dinner. She puttered around the kitchen in an apron, stirring pots and chopping vegetables as if everything was normal.
"Hey," he said coming up next to her and picking up a freshly sliced mushroom.
"Hi sweetie, how are you feeling?" Trina asked, continuing to prep the vegetables for the spaghetti she was making.
"I know about me and Caroline," he replied, not answering her question.
Trina stopped chopping and looked at him in surprise.
"Oh, Sidney…" she started, her face now etched with concern.
"It wasn't right, what you did. Not telling her about me and what was going on. It wasn't right to do that to me either." He kept his voice even. He didn't want to get upset, it was important that he stay even on all this.
"I'm sorry, Sid. I was scared. I didn't know what to do and I thought that she could help. I knew she'd want to help, despite everything." Trina tried to explain, the wobble in her voice unmistakable.
"That wasn't your decision," Sid replied, leaning back against the counter. "I mean I'm not an idiot. I look around this house and she isn't anywhere in it. How did you think that was going to work? Was she just going to pretend until I remembered? Did you ask her to do that?"
"I wanted you to get better," Trina's voice despite the wobble grew a bit stronger. "You're my son, I would do anything for you."
"But what about her? What would you do for her? She's part of this family. Why does she have to hurt in order for me not to?"
Trina looked at him, her eyes sad, "I guess I didn't think of that."
Sid pushed off from the counter. "I'm tired, I'm just going to skip dinner and head to bed."
"Honey,"
Sid put a hand up. "It's just a lot to process is all. Tell Dad I'll see him tomorrow. Do you know where my phone is?"
"The doctor said to stay away from screens," Trina said weakly.
Sid shot her a glare.
"It's in your bag of stuff from the hospital, on the chair in the hallway," his mom said, sighing.
Sid started to walk away.
"If it means anything, I was hoping it would help both of you. I thought if you saw one another you would remember, not just to help with the injury, but remember why you love one another. I thought it could be a start. To get back to the way it was, before."
He stopped but didn't turn around.
"I know this can be fixed. All of it. I have faith that it will. I know my intentions seem misguided, but I just want the two of you to be happy. You haven't been happy. Not in a long time."
Sid just looked over his shoulder and gave a short nod.
In the hallway he found the bag, digging through its contents he pulled out his phone and charger. He was headed to go upstairs when his eye caught the framed photo on the side table. It was their wedding day, he'd never remembered seeing it there before, usually that picture was on the mantle in the living room. He walked over and picked it up. It felt like a lifetime ago. The smiles on their faces, their eyes bright with love. It all seemed so much more simple then. He stared at her face. That face he had memorized, the slope of her nose, the curve of her cheek, he traced her features with his finger and was transported to the last time he'd ever felt that happy.
"Let's hope he has your nose," he said smiling, his finger running up and down the bridge of her nose. In the darkness he saw her grin.
"I love your nose," she responded dreamily. "I hope he has your eyes and lips."
"My lips, ugh I wouldn't wish these things on anyone."
"I love your lips," she said softly, her mouth finding his, the kiss light and sweet.
She pulled back, her eyes shining. "He will be the most beautiful talented boy, with a dad like you."
He grinned, his arms pulling her closer as they snuggled in bed.
"More importantly he will be the sweetest, kindest, smartest kid, because he will have you as his mom," he said softly, his eyes intent on hers. He pressed his mouth to hers, tasting her lips.
"I love you Caroline," his eyes getting heavy and the softness of her body, her belly swollen with their child, tucked into his.
"I love you too Sid."
"Sid."
"Sid!"
"SID!"
He awoke from the deep sleep. Caroline was shouting his terror in her voice knocking him into consciousness and he was out of the bed in a shot. Running into the bathroom he saw her sitting there blood on her hands, tears streaming down her face.
"Something's wrong!" she cried. "It hurts."
That image would never leave him. For as long as he lived he would never forget her face, the anguish, the blood, the terror in her voice. It would haunt him forever.
"It's going to be ok," he said immediately. "It's going to be ok. I'll get you some clothes and we'll get to the hospital and it's going to be ok. He is going to be ok."
Five hours later, the sun was starting to come up when they entered the bedroom. He led her to the bed, where the stain of her blood lay stark against the white of the sheets.
"Do you want to take a shower?" he asked.
Caroline just stared into space.
"Care?" he said softly. She looked at him blankly. "Do you want to take a shower?"
She nodded and stood walking slowly to the bathroom, Sid grabbed her robe and followed. The trail of blood on the bathroom floor greeted them. Caroline choked out a sob.
"I'll clean it up," he said quietly, "The shower will help."
Caroline looked at him with bloodshot eyes, swollen and red. She started to say something, but instead just nodded again.
With her in the shower, Sid got on his hands and knees and scrubbed at the floor and toilet. He then quickly found a new set of sheets and quickly changed the bedding. Just as he finished, she came into the room. The robe engulfing her, her hair matted to her head and a new set of tears freshly falling down her cheeks.
"Here, get into bed." He beckoned her and she slowly came towards him.
"He's gone," she said softly. The tears a steady stream.
"Care, please come lie down."
He pulled the blankets back and guided her into bed, moving slowly. "You just need to rest," he said.
"He's gone," she repeated, her eyes vacant again. Sid brought the covers over her, his hand pushing back her damp hair. His lips brushing against her temple.
She looked at him, her eyes on his, wet and devastated. "Our baby is gone, Sid."
He blinked quickly. Repeatedly.
"I know, Care, but please you have to rest."
He sat with her for a few minutes, her body shaking with sobs until finally they subsided and soon she was asleep.
He stood and gathered the dirty sheets and took them down the stairs to the laundry room. He stared at the washing machine, then turned, grabbed a garbage bag from the kitchen and headed outside. Putting the sheets in the bag, he stuffed the garbage bag into the trash bin.
He walked towards the backyard until he reached his shed, inside was his practice ice. A faux material that worked as real ice. He grabbed a stick and a bucket of pucks and started shooting at the net. Over and over he shot. One harder than the previous. He kept shooting and shooting, the tears coming, fast and hard. He took his stick and slammed it against the post, shattering it. He grabbed another off the wall and swung again, splintered fiberglass flying everywhere. He kept going, the sobs echoing in the small space, until all the sticks were broken and he collapsed onto the floor, his head in his hands as he sobbed over the death of his unborn son.
He spent most of his evening staring at his phone. The past year had pictures of friends and family. Events like the parade and his day with the cup. Screenshots of football fantasy stats he'd sent to buddies. New ideas for workouts and products from his trainer. Part of him was afraid that he'd see images of someone else. Someone new. This other guy, the one he couldn't remember. Had he dated? Slept with someone? Would some woman appear in those pictures that he scrolled through his photo roll or texts that he reread trying to piece together the past year? But there wasn't much. Not that there usually was. He didn't use his phone a whole lot. Before this past year his phone was a scrapbook of his life. Screenshots of recipes to try out with Caroline. Funny memes they'd send back and forth. Photos of the two of them making funny faces, placed they'd gone, sunrises they'd watched, life they had lived together.
And the worst part. The part that broke a piece of him inside were all those celebration pictures. The night winning the cup, the parade, the parties, the tour around home, she wasn't in any of them. She'd told him she saw him raise the cup. Now he realized she wasn't lying. She probably had, on tv, like so many others. She was supposed to be there. He knew that during those years of disappointing losses that it would happen again. And when it did she was going to be there. Only she wasn't.
It was still dark outside when Sid woke. He lay there for a moment, then grabbed his phone and navigated through his contacts to pull up her number. Normally he would have recognized the early hour, but as soon as he had woken, she was the first thing he'd thought of. He hoped to god she was still here. Part of him worried that as soon as she left yesterday, she'd driven back to Cincinnati. He had more questions than answers, but to put them all on her wasn't fair.
The conversation yesterday had been overwhelming. She was clearly in pain over where they were and he struggled to remember the events that could have led to that. He'd known things were shaky. He could remember last fall and the conversations and sometimes arguments they'd had about options to explore since conceiving had become increasingly difficult. It was still impossible to believe that they hadn't seen each other in so many months. In some ways he was grateful that his memory loss, it gave him ignorant bliss to the pain the past year must have brought.
Sid pressed call and glanced at the clock on his bedside table that read 5:30.
The phone rang for a while and just when he was convinced he would get her voicemail, a muffled voice said, "Hello?"
"Care," he replied.
There was silence on the other end.
"Caroline?"
"Yeah, hi um, I'm here. Is everything alright?" Her voice was thick with sleep, he'd waken her.
"Oh yeah, sorry, I know it's early. I just, I didn't know if you were still here. In Pittsburgh. Or if you left. Well not left but went back to Cincinnati?" He waited in an anticipation that felt stronger than he realized.
"I'm still here," she said softly.
He felt his heart lurch.
"Oh good. I know it's really early, but I wondered if you wanted to go to Thompson's this morning? I think we have like an hour maybe?"
He swallowed. Uncertain of what she would say.
She didn't say anything.
"Are you there?" he asked.
"I'm here. Yes, that would be nice. I can pick you up? 45 minutes?" he voice soft and a bit unsteady.
"Perfect, I'll see you then." This conversation was excruciating. She was the person who knew him inside and out, who knew every detail, every neurosy, every part of him and this conversation felt so formal. But he had to see her. He didn't care how awkward it was. She was here, he needed her to be with him.
"See you then, lov-," he caught himself. "See you soon, bye."
"Bye."
43 minutes later he stood outside his house. Through the dark of an early morning in October, he saw the Subaru pull through the gate. The air was cold as he stuffed his hands in his jacket and watched her pull up. Opening the door and climbing into this foreign vehicle, he wondered what had happened to her old car. The one he'd gotten her for her birthday a few years back.
"Hi," he said as he settled himself in his seat and reached for his belt.
"Hi" she said back looking at him with a slight trepidation.
For early in the morning she looked great. She wore black leggings with an oversized Pitt sweatshirt. Her wavy hair up in a haphazard bun, curls escaping onto her neck. She wore light makeup and while he could tell she was tired and probably pretty worn out from everything that had been going on, she still had that brightness to her that attracted him to her.
Once he was settled, she put the car back into drive and made her way out onto the streets of Sewickley. She navigated through the streets and up into the hills. He didn't seem to need to remind her of how to get there, why would he, they used to go there all the time. The small park that overlooked the greater Pittsburgh area, the place they'd go early in the morning to watch the sunrise.
Ever since their engagement, sunrises were special to them. They'd found this place shortly after they got married. It was tucked away, not many visitors. A park bench had become their spot and they'd watch the sun come into view, the night turning to day and talk about life, their life together. But as things had started to get a bit more hectic they came less and less. For some reason though he'd thought of this place when he awoke to the dark. He thought about the times they'd shared on that bench and he wondered if it would help him remember, help them try to figure out if there was something worth saving.
Parking the car, they got out and took in the view that was starting to show itself. The purple glow of the rising sun casting it's color on the world below was better than any filter.
They walked silently to the bench. Their bench. His hands stuffed in his pockets, she fiddled with her keys.
"It looks like it's going to be a good one," he stated awkwardly taking a seat.
Caroline nodded and sat next to him, mindfully keeping some space between them he noted.
"I love when they're like this," she said softly staring out at the view.
He drank her in, watching her watching the sun. He couldn't fathom in what circumstance, in what world where they weren't together. Not after all they'd been through. She was tough as nails. They'd grown and evolved and formed a bond he never thought would be broken. How had they gotten here? He had so many questions. But he knew he had to be careful. Not overwhelm her. She may be tough, but he'd seen her broken. He'd seen how much pain she could take, he couldn't bear to bring her any more of that.
Caroline shivered as a cold breeze flittered through the trees and bush that surrounded them.
Sid unzipped his coat and shrugged it off his shoulders. Without a thought he leaned over and draped it over her. Caroline looked surprised, then smiled gratefully, pulling her arms through the sleeves and pulling the coat around her frame. The black puffer jacket was big on her, but surely providing her the warmth she needed.
"Thanks," she said with a small smile.
"Anytime," he gave her his signature grin, hoping to break some of this ice that they both seemed to be slipping around on. She just looked away.
"I forgot how beautiful this place is," he said looking out at the display of nature before them. He stretched his legs out in front of him, "I guess it's been a while, eh?" He glanced over at her.
She looked over at him and gave a shrug. "I was here yesterday."
He was caught off guard. "You were?"
Caroline nodded. "Yeah, I come, well, I came here a lot. It's peaceful. It was a good thinking spot."
Sid couldn't help but feel a little bit let down that she'd continue to come here, to their spot without him. He had so many special memories of them here together. To think there were all these other times made him feel...sad.
"I can't really remember why we stopped coming here," he said offhandedly.
"I kept asking you and there was always a reason we couldn't do it." Caroline said, her voice slightly tight.
"Huh, I don't remember it that way," he said. Truly he didn't.
"I'm not making it up," she said, the edge now clearly in her voice.
Sid felt his heart beginning to pound a little bit, a twinge of anxiety starting to course through his veins.
"I'm not saying that you are, I just, I guess I thought life got busy and we just sort of stopped coming here. I'm sorry, if that's not what happened." he replied trying to be diplomatic. But this was familiar. These conversations, short and with an edge. It was how they'd been communicating in the memories he could remember.
"Yeah, I guess life just got busy," Caroline replied, the edge gone but a resigned sadness now tempered her voice.
"I'm sorry, was this a bad idea?" Sid asked feeling a bit on edge himself, this was not going the way he thought it would. Barely a few minutes together and there was this "weirdness" between them.
"You don't have to apologize. It wasn't a bad idea, but I guess I just don't know why we're here?" She looked at him expectantly.
"I, uh, I guess, I" he fumbled around trying to find the words, his hand scratching at the back of his neck, a nervous tick of his. "I just thought maybe it would help us. Help remember some of the better times. I don't know...why did you say yes to coming when I asked you? I mean why are you still here? You could have gone back to Cincinnati. I wouldn't have blamed you."
The stiffness Caroline's body had taken during this conversation subsided and she looked at him, "I guess I thought sort of the same." She sighed. "I'm glad you called, I'm glad we're here. I just...yesterday was a lot. And it's hard to get you to understand, even before, how things were changing. So many things just stopped happening between us. This was one of those things. It was like we had this life together and it had all these pieces and parts that made it so wonderful. And then they just started to fall away. And life, it was so stressful and there was so much going on, so at first it was ok that some of those things went away, because there were other things that made us, us. But then it was like suddenly so many of the parts I knew were replaced with the parts I didn't know and it all felt like someone else's life."
She looked at him sadly. "I stayed because I want you to get better. Even if that means we move on...separately, I still...I still want you to be you. But it's scary because I didn't know you the first time you got the concussion, but I knew what it did to you. I knew how it changed you. And I thought that is too scary to do alone. And I know you're not alone, you have all these people around. All the time."
Sid noticed the change in her voice when she said those last few words.
"Anyway," she shook her head as if to clear those bad thoughts away, "I just didn't want this to happen to you again and not be here for it. I don't think that makes much sense, but I guess I just always was preparing myself for something like this. For the injury. The big one. That if it happened before, it could happen again and I would be there to help you this time. And it has but now we aren't the way we were. I thought it would be us against whatever happened. Only there isn't an us anymore."
She blinked, once, twice, then repeatedly as the teardrops formed and then began to slide down her face. She swiped at them with the back of her hands, the sunshine revealing more of her, the daylight that was breaking casting a glow on her profile that was so painfully beautiful but were beginning to show signs of the stress these last few years had brought.
He watched her. Feeling helpless at what she had to say. He'd always thought if he ever had to go through this again. The concussion. That it would be so much easier this time. Because she'd be with him. They'd get through it together. He hadn't been afraid. Of any injury. Even the one that would end his career, if that happened. Because of her, hockey wasn't the most important thing. But now it had happened and he couldn't fucking remember anything and she was here, but she wasn't. And he was sitting here with her and it was like they were worlds apart. And he didn't know why.
And he was scared. For the first time in a long time he was really scared.
Without thinking he reached over, and pulled her hand into his. It was probably overstepping, but he just needed to touch her. Even in the smallest way, he needed it desperately because he couldn't think otherwise. Not clearly at least. Not in the way he needed to try and fix all this.
She stared at their hands joined together. Watched as his fingers intertwined with hers.
"Is this ok?" he asked his voice almost a whisper.
She looked at him, her eyes shiny and nodded, "yeah, it's ok." She squeezed his hand lightly and they watched as the morning fully dawned, bringing about a day that once again was filled with more questions than answers.
As they walked back to the car, he told her about the conversation with his mom. Leaving out the parts about trying to get them back together. Then he asked if she would stick around the house today. There were people coming in and out throughout the day to help him, he knew it would be awkward and difficult for her, and he knew he was selfish in asking, but she agreed she would stay.
It's different. He said to her. Different than it was supposed to be. But maybe we could put that all away for a little bit. Would that be alright?
She looked at him, a sad smile, eyes that had seen more than he knew and replied, yeah, that would be alright.