Monday, September 28, 2009

On Vacation

So I thought "hey, while I'm on a 5 hour flight, I'm gonna write, because I know what I want to write, it's just the writing it part." Well I was wrong. I was too freakin' excited to be going on my first vacation for more than two days minus the parents. A huge step into adulthood I like to think, I know... I'm lagging. haha. So today I went here...

and you have no idea the emotions I went through walking around this place. Growing up watching Mario Lemieux face off against Gretzky. I had to sit down on a bench outside and compose myself. It was overwhelming, in such a good way.

So walking around downtown today gave me new eyes into what I write. Now I can picture and understand most things about Pittsburgh. So tomorrow, when I hit up the South Side, hopefully inspiration will smack me across the forehead and I'll get an update for this bad boy. It's on the tip of my tongue, it is, but I'm thinking I should wait, spend a few more days here, and then write it.

Cheers from Pittsburgh.

Monday, September 14, 2009


Lillianah's POV

I walked into the lounge where everyone gathered to watch the game and felt all eyes on me. Word must have traveled fast that I was Max’s girlfriend, thanks to Clarissa. I spotted her sitting on the couch directly in front of the TV and she patted the spot next to her, prompting me to sit down. “Is it true? Are you really Talbot’s girlfriend?” The guy in the chair next to me asked and I looked over at him and slowly nodded my head. “So he hasn’t played because of what happened to you?” I sighed deeply and looked down at my hands. “Yeah, I was in the hospital for a few days, and he wouldn’t exactly leave my side,” I explained even though I felt like he didn’t need an explanation. No one needs an explanation for what I do, or what Max does for that matter. I turned my attention back to the TV and drowned out the whispers that were occurring around me. “Well Dan, Maxime Talbot is expected to be back in the lineup tonight, no one knows why he’s missed the last two games.” I wanted to scream it was because of me. Just get it out there already. I didn’t know it was such a big deal that he had missed two games.

Watching him skate out on the ice, I wasn’t exactly feeling those things I hoped I would. Sure I got a few butterflies when they showed him up close, but he didn’t look like my Max. He didn’t look like any man I knew. All of the emotions in his eyes were gone, It looked like he hadn’t taken a shower in days. Who was this man? On top of it all, every time they showed him, he looked frustrated, like he could rip someone's head off. After the second period finished, I excused myself. I didn't want to see Max like that. I never wanted to see him like that. This was all my fault, of course it was. Why can't Max just come out and say that he has an irresponsible girlfriend that has caused him to miss two games and then barely play in the next?

Laying in bed, starring at the ceiling, all I could think about was how good things were, and how I royally fucked them up. Then my mind began to wander back to the drugs, and how much easier it would be on me if I just had a single line. Just one. Stupid? Yeah, drugs are what put me in this hell. Yet it seemed like drugs were the only thing that could get me out. I felt my legs begin to twitch, and I was in that state of mind where I would do anything to get my hands on some coke. I shot up from the bed and ran out my room, straight for the sauna. Sweat it out, that’s all I needed to do. That’s what Mark told me to do anyways. Drugs or Max, those were my options. I wasn’t stupid enough to go back to the drugs, but I couldn’t keep my body from craving them. I cranked the heat up and discarded my shirt, sitting on the wood bench in my bra and sweat pants. All I wanted to do was cry, but I couldn’t. No matter what I thought about, I couldn’t lure the tears to fall out.

“Lillianah?” I looked up from picking at my hands to see Mark step into the sauna. “Are you okay?” He asked cautiously as he sat down on the bench across from me. “No, I’m not okay. And I don’t think I ever will be. Why did I do this? Why do I still want to do drugs? Why is he still with me?” “Woah, slow down. Take a deep breath for me okay?” My deep breath in was shaky, and as I let it out, my tears began to fall. Finally, a release of some sort. “What brought this on? Was it seeing Max on TV?” I looked back down at my torn up hands and thought deeply about his question. “Just everything. That wasn’t the Max I know. He looked so angry, he’s not an angry person. I want to be there for him, I want to find out what’s wrong, but how I am suppose to be there for someone when I can’t even be there for myself? How am I suppose to love someone, when I can’t even love myself? How can I take care of him for the rest of my life when I can’t take care of myself? It makes no fucking sense.” He got up from the bench and walked the small distance toward me and sat down next to me. “You currently have this mind set where you tell yourself you are in the wrong all the time, but I want you to try something else. Instead of always saying ‘I’m stupid’ or ‘I can’t do anything right’, try saying ‘we learn from our mistakes’ and ‘I’ll be smarter next time’.” I tossed my head back taking his words in as sweat poured from my skull. “Once you get into a place where you’re happy and can do things without the need of drugs, you’ll fall into a grove that just fits your life perfectly. I think if you start to play the piano again-“ ”I’ll never play the piano again.” I heard him sigh faintly and he leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees. “Why not?” I didn’t feel like talking about. Not tonight anyways. I looked over at Mark, and looked straight into his eyes. I wish he had some power that he could just look in my eyes and understand. I knew he wouldn’t though, so I gave him a sad smile and left the sauna. The itch for the drugs somewhere in the far distance. Tonight, I could only hope, I'll sleep a full eight hours.

Max’s POV

My legs bounced nervously as I sat in an uncomfortable chair off to the side of the stage. The stage that was set up for me to give my ‘statement’. It was all typed up, nice and pretty for me to read off of. A dozen or so reporters were waiting for me, waiting for my excuse. I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket and my first instinct was to ignore it, but some greater power told me to answer it. When I looked down to see it was the rehab facility calling I couldn’t help but smile. “Allo mon cheri!” The voice on the other end cleared their throat. “Max?” It was some guy, it wasn’t Lillianah, I instantly went into panic mode. “Yes, this is Max. Is everything okay?” “Yes, everything is fine. My name is Mark and I’m Lillianah’s counselor out here and I was just wondering if you had a moment to discuss something.” I looked around me and noticed I still had about ten minutes before I was to go on stage. “Yes, of course, how is she?” When I heard him take a deep breath I knew it was as bad as I thought it would be. Lillianah has this way about her, and I’m sure she was being stubborn as hell in there. “We’re slowly but surely getting her to where she needs to be. Now this is why I called. Legally I can’t discuss our sessions together with you, but I have a suggestion for you when she transitions back into her sober life at home.” “Okay?” I scratched the back of my head and looked over to see Mario sit down next to me. He held up his hand to signal to me that I had five minutes. “Do you or anyone you know own a piano?” “A piano? What?” “Lillianah use to play piano, and I like to believe she was very, very good at it. I think if she started to play again, it would keep her mind and hands busy. It could be very good for her.” Lillianah played piano? How come she never told me? “Mario, do you own a piano?” He gave me a confused look before nodding his head. “Yeah, my boss owns a piano. So you really think her playing will help her?” “I do, but the hard part is getting her to play. She said she’ll never play again, but she didn’t tell me why.”

“Max, it’s time,” Mario whispered to me and I finished up my conversation with Mark. He sounded like a good guy, I knew she was in good hands. I still couldn’t believe the fact that she played piano and I didn’t know. I guess there are still a lot of things about her that I didn’t know. I almost felt like I was blind when it came to her life. What else was there that I didn’t know about? That I was too blind to see? I stopped at the base of the two steps on to stage and took a deep breath. With my speech in hand I prepared myself the best I could and walked up on stage. There were a hell of a lot more reporters than I originally thought. The small conference room was packed wall to wall. Camera’s, video camera’s, tape recorders, the whole works. I set my statement down on the podium and took another deep breath. Why was I doing this again? I looked out and all the reporters were looking at me impatiently. Waiting for the words to leave my mouth. What could possibly be going through their minds right now? I knew word on the street was that Lillianah and I broke up, causing my foul mood, thanks to the dozen or so spectators who were lucky enough to see her denial of my marriage proposal. I looked down at the words on the white piece of paper and shook my head. Pat was right, I always do things my way, this was going to be no different. I folded the paper in half and took one last deep breath before setting my eyes on the crowd in front of me.

“Thank you everyone for being here today. As you know I have missed the last two games, and managed to play below par in my return to the game last night. I have heard the rumors that are floating around town, and I must say, they are partially true. The love of my life, Lillianah Jenkins, turned down my marriage proposal a week and a half ago. The part where you are wrong though, is that we are still together, and I still love her just as much as I always have. She made a few poor decisions that night and ultimately ended up in the hospital. I’m not going to stand up here and apologize for what happened. I am not going to apologize for my poor playing nor my missed attendance of two home games late in the season. There comes a time in every man’s life when we realize there are more important things in life than a game. As grateful as I am to be playing for the Penguins, in this amazing town, I had to take a step back and look at my life. Lillianah is my everything, and she needed me more than my team did at that moment in time. I can only hope that the fans, my teammates and the Penguins organization can understand my need to step away from the game for a moment. Lillianah is on the long road to recovery, but she will be okay, and having that on my conscience is allowing me to focus one-hundred percent on hockey once again. I just ask for not only my privacy but as well as Lillianah’s and her family’s in this trying time. Thank you.”

I rushed off the stage before I could hear any of their questions. It was out there, and I hoped to never talk of it again. "You did good," Mario smiled at me as we walked through the hallways out toward the parking lot. I smiled weakly at him and continued through the hallways, trying to keep up with his long strides. "So tell me about this piano thing." I was still confused, why didn't she tell me? "I guess Lil plays piano, and I guess she's really good at it. Or at least use to be. That was her counselor I was talking to, he said it might be good for her to start playing again." He nodded his head, slowing down his pace. "Well our door is always open for you, feel free to bring her by and allow her to play on our piano." That's when the idea popped in to my head. That spare room downstairs in the house, the one I was going to turn into a man cave. "I think I should go buy one. I have the room for it. It'll be a welcome home gift." He stopped walking and placed his hand on my shoulder. "Whatever you need to do Max, you should do. Nathalie knows a bit about pianos, if you want I can give her a call and you two can meet somewhere to go look at some?" I smiled up to him, "really?" "Of course." I pondered for a big what I had to do for the rest of the day. Oh that's right, nothing. "Yeah, that'd be awesome. Thanks Mario." He simply nodded his head and pulled out his phone to put in a call to his wife.

Wednesday, September 9, 2009


Max’x POV

I walked in to Mellon arena, only to turn on my heal and walk back out. “Max!” Pat yelled after me. I stopped once the door shut behind me and squinted my eyes in the bright spring sun. The door opened behind me, and I soon felt his presence standing next to me. “Can’t ignore me Max, we have to settle this.” I turned to him and looked in him the eye. “Write this down, you’re going to tell them that I am a fucking wreck and I don’t want to talk about it. We have a Stanley Cup to win and I have a fucked up shoulder, and-“ ”Wait. What’s this about your shoulder?” My eyes went wide and I quickly looked away. I grabbed on to the handle of the door and walked back in to the Mellon, Pat hot on my trail. “Max?” “My shoulder’s fucked up alright? But I’m good. It’s no biggie, I have bigger problems on my plate right now. It feels fine . . . most of the time.” I stopped walking and tossed my arm about, showing him it was nothing and that I should have just kept my mouth shut. My shoulder was just something else I pushed in to the back of my mind. With everything that has happened this season, meeting Lillianah, her breaking her ankle, my concussion, moving in to a house, and then well . . . now, my shoulder was nothing. “You’re getting it checked out.” “IT’S FINE!” I cried out to him as I began my trek back to the locker room. I walked in, only to be greeted by Disco Dan. “Hey Danny,” I smiled to him as I went to walk past him, but he stopped me. “Trainer’s room, now. What were you thinking Max? That I wouldn’t hear you yelling in the hallway?” I sighed deeply and walked into the trainers room.

“It looks like a torn labrum, but I won’t know for sure without x-rays,” Doc stated as he rested my arm at my side. I don’t think he meant to pull my shoulder out of its socket, but that’s exactly what he did. I put up my best act, trying to make it look like it didn’t hurt, when really I wanted to scream and kick him. “Damnit guys! I have too much shit going on right now to worry about a small tear! I’m playing fine and you know that. It’s two fucking weeks! Two weeks until playoffs!” I argued as Danny, Pat, Chris and Doc gathered around me, mumbling back and forth with each other. “X-rays first thing tomorrow. This isn’t a joke, if it’s really bad you can’t play. We can’t let you risk the rest of your career because of it.” I gave a curt nod and jumped off the table and headed in to the locker room. “After the game Max, we’re talking,” Pat pointed to me as he walked out of the room. I rubbed my hands over my face a few times and took a deep breath. I was defiantly going out for a beer after the game, win or lose.

The game was a beautiful win for us, and I knew I was going to be swamped by the media after the game considering I returned from my mysterious disappearance. I needed to calm down first though, the last thing I wanted to do was talk crap about my coach in to a camera. I was pissed. All of a sudden he finds out about a possible tear in my shoulder, and he feels like he can cut down my ice time in half. I averaged twelve to thirteen minutes a night, now all of a sudden I’m only getting six. “I’m not talking to the media,” I groaned to Pat as I passed by him and headed to the showers. I couldn’t talk to them. There was no way I wouldn’t say something I would regret later. I stood under the steaming hot water and shut my eyes. I was on the verge of a complete meltdown. The pressure was just too much. Shoulder. Stanley Cup. Ice time. Media. Girlfriend. Rumors. What the fuck was I supposed to do? I’m the guy that’s suppose to tell life to fuck off and get drunk off of whiskey, not the guy with problems. “Hey Talbo, wanna come with us to the bre-“ ”Yes.” I answered Tyler before he could even finish asking me. After a long shower, I headed back into the locker room and avoided all microphones in my face. They could speculate just a little bit longer, I just wanted to get out of there. I got dressed quickly and slipped out the door where Pat was standing. “I’ll be at the Thunderbird Public House, if you don’t know where it’s at ask Sid,” I told him as I walked past him and straight out to the parking lot. I felt bad ignoring the fans, but I just needed to get away before I did something stupid. I jumped into my BMW and sped off toward the Strip District. I needed a few beers before the boys got there. I needed to get out of this funk, I needed to put a smile on my face and act like absolutely nothing was fucking wrong. Yet it was tearing me apart. Everything was wrong. Everything in my life was wrong as this certain point in time.

I played a game of billiards by myself as the guys began to file up the stairs of the brewery. Another beer came my way and I sipped on it, not wanting to get drunk quite yet. I knew I still needed to talk to Pat and I wanted to be mostly sober when I did so. It was hard though, and I was almost tired of waiting on him. As I bent over to hit the cue ball and hopefully sink the eight ball, someone picked the ball up. I stayed in my stance and my eyes wandered up to Pat. “That’s fucked up Pat, and even you know that,” I groaned as I tossed my stick on the table, grabbed my beer and headed to the corner of the room. I sat down in the booth and Pat took the seat across from me. “So, how do you want to do this?” He asked as he pulled some files out of his briefcase. I shrugged my shoulders, sipping on my beer. “The organization is going crazy with this right now, you have to release something soon.” “Why can’t they just write something for me and I can stand in front of a few people and just read it?” He went through a few papers and handed one over to me, obviously they already had something written up. “Mario wanted you to do this your way, but if you don’t have a way, then we can just go with the statement.” “What do you mean my way?” I looked around the bar, before making eye contact with the bartender and signaled for another beer. “You’re Maxime Talbot, you usually always have your own way with something.” “Yeah, but I’m not going to tell people that my girlfriend overdosed on cocaine and is now in treatment for drug abuse. I couldn’t even tell my own mother for a week, how do you expect me to tell complete strangers? Why does my absence from the rink have to have a reason? Am I not allowed to take a few days off without being under a microscope?” When my beer arrived, I quickly downed half of it and looked at Pat for answers. “When your team makes one of the greatest comebacks this late in the season under a rookie coach, and you’re considered the heart of this team, everyone wants to know everything about you. This city needs you as much as the team does. They don’t call you ‘clutch’ because it’s a cute nickname. Just read the statement.”

Lillianah’s POV

I woke up in a thick sweat, taking deep breaths trying to keep myself from screaming. This was one thing that I was not looking forward to, and that was the nightmares. I couldn’t even begin to describe what was happening, but the pounding in my chest was what eventually woke me from my dreaded dream. I crawled out of bed and slipped on some flip flops, making my way toward the bathroom. I stood in front of the mirror and looked at myself. Who was I anymore? I plashed some water on my face and just allowed myself to cry into the sink. I thought I heard someone walk into the bathroom and quickly looked over at the door to see it was still shut. I shook my head and stood up straight, running a hand over my prickly head. “You can do this Lil. Do it for Max.” By the time I made it back to my room, it was already 8 AM, and I had thirty minutes to get ready and be in Mark's office. After a quick change and brush of my teeth I walked down the windy hallways and stood outside of his office. His door was open so I knocked on the door fame and he looked up and motioned for me to come in. I took a seat on the big leather couch and curled up my left leg underneath me. “You look tired,” he commented as he pulled out what I assumed was my chart. “Didn’t get much sleep. Had a nightmare,” I answered him picking at my cuticles. “About what?” “I don’t remember. I just woke up sweating and breathing hard. I hate nightmares.”

“So tell me about the ring around your neck.” My hand gravitated up to my necklace and I began to play with the ring. “This is what will be my engagement ring some day. I asked Max if I could bring it with me, and he told me I had to wear it on a necklace.” “Has he asked you to marry him?” I dropped my chin down to my chest and let go of the ring. “The day I overdosed, he asked me, and I told him no.” He nods his head as he writes on his clipboard. “Is that where the responsibility comes in to play? You said marriage screams responsibility. Why are you so scared of it?” I rolled the question around in my mind a few times trying to think of an answer. Why am I so scared of it? “I guess I don’t want to disappoint anyone, but I think it’s too late for that.” He nodded his head as he studied me. “Do you believe with responsibility comes failure?” I slowly began to nod my head the more I thought about it, “I do.” He wrote a little bit more. “Aside from the drugs what have you failed at?” I linked my hands together in my lap, and looked down at them, trying my damn hardest to think of something to say. “I failed as a daughter.” “How?” How did I fail as a daughter? Where do I begin? “I’m not my sister.” I knew the next question before he even had to ask it so I took a deep breath and cut him off. "She's blond hair, blue eyes, married with two kids, has a beautiful home. She's the white picket fence. Me? Black dyed hair, green eyes, I'm everything my sister didn't screw up on." As he wrote, he nodded his head, as if he was understanding. But I doubted he did. No one can exactly understand the way I think. "So you went against what you thought was their image of the perfect daughter?" I nodded my head. "And now you feel like you've failed them because of it?" I nod again.

"Failure. An act or instance of failing or proving unsuccessful; lack of success. Nonperformance of something due, required or expected. A subnormal quantity or quality." He closed the dictionary on his lap and looked up at me. "Is that it? A subnormal quality? You don't think you're as good as your sister?" I held my hand out for the dictionary, and he freely handed it over. I flipped through some pages before landing upon the word I was looking for. “An idle, worthless person; a person who is ineffectual, unsuccessful, or completely lacking in merit. Good. For. Nothing. That’s me. In my family, I’m the ‘ne’er-do-well’. I got no attention at home, and even less when I moved away. Why did they even bother having another daughter?” I asked becoming angry, tears forming along my bottom eyelid. “I fell in love with music at a very young age. I preferred to listen to music than go to cheer practice. They enrolled me in soccer, softball, basketball. I was miserable growing up. All I wanted to do was listen to music. Diana Ross, Tina Turner, Stevie Wonder, Smokey Robinson. All of the albums my father played in the house while I was growing up. I fell in love with it, but because I wouldn’t lace up damn soccer cleats, I wasn’t worth the attention they put into my sister and her cheer routines.” He nodded his head, writing a few things down, a hint of a faint smile on his face. “What else?” My mind was racing now, all of these feelings I had been holding in about my childhood were coming out and I didn’t know if it was a good thing or not. I would never accuse my mother of doing a terrible job raising me, but I guess she could have done a little bit better. “I felt isolated. No one wants to celebrate the fact that Lily learned how to play the piano, everyone wants to celebrate the fact that Lizzy just became cheer captain. It wasn’t right growing up seeing my sister being rewarded for the same level of accomplishment I was achieving. I was able to play Beethoven’s 5th symphony by my 10th birthday. Did anyone turn their neck? Of course not. I just didn’t fit in.”

“Do you still play piano?” I looked down at my fingers, picking at my cuticles once again. “No.” “Why not?” I moved around on the couch, switching my legs, pulling my right one up underneath me. I was almost tempted to lay down on the black couch. Isn’t that what you’re suppose to do in ‘therapy’ anyways? “What’s the point in playing for yourself?” “You have Max though.” I shook my head, it’d been years since I laid my fingers on the ivory keys of a classic piano. It was a secret of mine I was hoping to take with me to my grave. Those memories of being alone needed to be left in the past, why was he bringing them to the surface? “Max doesn’t have the attention span to sit and listen to me play something on the piano.” “Does he know you use to play?” I shook my head from side to side quickly, looking back down at my shredded fingers. “Lillianah, I highly suggest you start playing again. For yourself more than anything. Even if you don’t receive the attention you hope it would, playing might be very good for you. It’s something you can do with your hands and occupy your mind while you’re recovering from your addiction. Please take it into consideration?” I nodded my head, allowing all of his words to sink in. “So I think that’s enough for today. We’ll be watching the game tonight in the main lounge if you want to come.” “The Penguins game?” I asked suddenly very alert, and very excited. He nodded his head and stashed some papers away in my chart. “Yup, the Penguins game.”

Sunday, September 6, 2009


If you want a good laugh, I highly recommend you check out this story. I can't even say anything about it, it's just THAT amazing.

Tuesday, September 1, 2009

New Story

Hello my lovelies. This story, How To Deal, is my baby. I cry over it. I tend to it. I dedicate my spare time to it. I have a lot planned for it still, it's just the getting there part. I've hit a slight brick wall, but am half way over. I have a chapter written, but it's not where I want it to be at yet. Thank you all so much for the comments. They really do excite me and want me to write more and more and more. I've met some pretty awesome people along the way as well. You girls ROCK, seriously. You know who you are. =D

So I'm writing a new story, it's just something that I feel like I need to write, for myself. I'm taking a different style than what I'm use to, but the story itself is very personal to me, and I'm going to go ahead and share it with you. It took me a long time and a pretty lengthy internal battle on who to write it about. Wanting to venture away from the Penguins (I still love them very much though, Talbot in his cardigans and all!) I settled on Brooks Laich and Mike Green. So  here we go...

Troubled Comfort         (<-- that's the link, kinda tricky, eh? ha)