Your Hand In Mine

Playing checkers against myself--I won, coloring with the flat end of crayon, repeating things from ]CSI Miami in a British accent, gargling water, and peeling grapes. Can anyone guess what those are? Anyone? Anyone at all?

Yeah, didn't think so.

Those right there, they would be the best ways to pass time, no joke. You should try it some day.

My phone started to make a horrid sound, then it vibrated and fell off the coffee table. Sometimes, I think phones secretly want to run away. I mean how would you feel with people's germy hands all over you, constantly being thrown across the room, and falling in water all the time? Twenty bucks says you would hate it.

"Aloha," I said into the phone.

"Alo'a?" Kris asked.

I laughed. "It means 'hello' and 'goodbye' in Hawaiian. Get with the program, would ya?"

"Sorry, sorry. I only know 'ow to say that in French and English."

"Well, I guess that's good enough. So, you're calling because..?" I asked him.

"Because I am outside."

"Oh. Why didn't you just hit the buzzer thing?"

"I didn't even t'ink about that," he answered.

"Good one. I'm walking out now," I told him as closed and locked the door.

"Alo'a," he said and I cracked up a little.

When I got outside, I saw Kris leaning against the passenger side of his car with a big smile spread across his face. "Ready, Miss Matthews?"

"Sure am, Mr. Letang." He smiled in response and opened the door for me. "Such a gentleman."

"For now. Next time you are opening the door for yourself; you are not 'andicap," he joked and sent me a wink.

We decided to sing during the twenty minute car ride it took get to the zoo. 96.1 was our station of choice again. We sang every word to Fireflies, Bad Romance and Use Somebody. Some of the songs we completely butchered and made up our own words instead. It was pretty fun.

Before we knew it, we were at the gates to get into the zoo. The lady put two tickets on the counter and Kris laid down a twenty.

"Oh, there is no way you're paying for my ticket, sorry," I told him and handed the lady a ten.

He just blinked. "I don't t'ink I 'ave ever been out wit' a girl who actually wanted to pay for 'erself. They all made me pay, whatever the cost was. They just wanted my money, I guess. Not that I don't want to pay for t'ing for you.. It's just, different."

"Get used to it," I smiled. "And if I wanted to spend somebody's money, I would have hooked up with Sid, who makes a lot more than you do, no offense."

"Good to know. And none taken. Come on, let's go." he said, and we made our way to the escalator that made me sick to my stomach when I looked back down to the ground. I'm not afraid of heights, but man, that thing was steep.

"So, tell me about yourself," Kris said as we came to the lions.

"Um.. Well, I was born and raised here. I have an older brother, Josh. I'm one hell of soccer player," I said with sarcasm. He gave me a 'yeah, right. you're probably awesome' look. "No, really. I'm the person that whiffs all the time, trips over grass, and kicks the ball right at the goalie when there's a shootout. It's sad, but I had fun. My favorite movie is Elf. I like scary movies, too, and I don't pillow watch or scream at blood and guts. Chocolate chip pancakes are probably the best thing ever invented--next to Captain Crunch. I hate to read. Oh, and I'm going to school to become a photographer. How about you?"

"Interesting. I am from Montreal and an only child. I 'ave play 'ockey since I was about four. I don't really 'ave a favorite movie, but I can't stand romantic one. I would rather watch paint dry. I do love Ant'ony 'opkin movies, though. And um.. that's about it," he told me.

"Interesting," I mocked. He just smirked back at me.

We rounded the corner and were greeted by a very lovely site--an ostrich was going to the bathroom. "Awesome," Kris said, completely amazed.

"Oh, yeah," I said sarcastically and turned my head away into Kris' shoulder, and he wrapped an arm around me. Uh, whoa.

"I think they should be taught how to use a toilet," I mumbled. I felt Kris laugh at my statement. "Is it over yet, Kris? And I swear if you lie and say it's done, I'm pushing you into the alligator pit."

"Yeah, it is over," he said with a small chuckle. Believing him, I turned back around only to find that he had lied. I looked back to Kris. He had a smirk on his face, so I punched his arm and stormed off, pretending to be mad.

He caught up to me. "I was kidding?" he said with a small smile. "Plus, you would never feed me to the alligator, all of Pittsburgh would 'ate you, forever."

I rolled my eyes at him. "You're not as much of a superstar as you'd like to think." He gasped, pretending to be hurt by what I said before we picked up our feet again.

We made some small talk as we made our through the zoo.

"Do we 'ave to go in there? It smell like shit," Kris complained, referring to the big building that housed the monkeys.

"Don't be hatin'," I laughed. "They probably smell better than you after you're done with practice. But no, we don't have to."

He nodded his head. "You are probably right. Merci," he said grinning at me.

We skipped the whole monkey thing and went into the aquarium.

"Just keep swimming, just keep swimming, just keep swimming, swimming, swimming. What do we do? We swim, swim," I started singing as I walked ahead of Kris, eager to see all of the cool fish.

"Now I'm stuck wit' that song.. Now it is in my 'ead," Kris said.

I immediately turned back around. "You like Finding Nemo, too?" I asked in disbelief.

"Uh 'uh," he said as he nodded his head. I could feel my lips turn upward into a big smile.

"Fish are friends, not food," I said.

"Gimme some fin," he said and we high fived. "Noggin." We bumped heads. "Dude," we said at the same time and laughed.

"P. Sherman, 42 Wallaby Way, Sydney," I said.

"I shall call 'im Squishy, and 'e shall be mine, and 'e shall be my Squishy."

We stood there for a good ten minutes quoting lines from Nemo and laughing at how much we were acting like kids.

When we basically quoted the whole movie, we walked over to the stingray tank or whatever it was called.

"I swear if one of these thing sting me..," Kris drifted.

"I know what you mean. I don't really want to end up like Steve Irwin."

"Who is that?" Kris questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"You know, 'The Crocodile Hunter' with the cool Australian accent?" He shook his head. "He traveled the world and told you all about animals, but he was in the water one time and a sting ray stung him in his chest, and he died. I miss that show," I informed him as I remembered some of the episodes.

"That is sad. At least 'e die doing what 'e love. I 'ope I go that way, or in my sleep," he said, and I saw something flash through his eyes. Maybe he was thinking about Luc Bourdon, his best friend who died in a motorcycle accident during the Pens Cup run two years ago. God, I can't even imagine what that must have been like--loosing your best friend, and then the Stanley Cup.

"Yeah, same here. I'm hungry. How about you?" I said, changing the subject. I figured he didn't want to talk about it yet, or at all, because it still hurt. He must have felt a little better winning the Stanley Cup for him, but probably not as good if Luc were there congratulating him minutes after Game 7 was over.

"Yeah, food sound good. I could go for some fries," he said, still appearing a little bit distant. We got to the food court and ordered. I got chicken fingers and fries, and Kris got a burger and fries. I also paid for my food, even though he insisted that I should let him buy it for me.

"You 'ad to know that this was coming, Shane.. Question number nine," he started, and I chuckled. "What do you want to do before you die?" he asked me, and I was a little bit surprised that he had brought up death again.

"I've asked myself that a lot, actually. I want to find someone who loves me just as much as I love them, watch my kids grow up, skydive, tell off Ovechkin, beat up a Flyer fan, travel the world, send a message in a bottle, make a difference in someone's life, learn sign language, and find Waldo," I grinned. "What do you want to do before you die?" I asked him.

"Well, I 'ave made it into the NHL and won the Stanley Cup, so those can be cross off. But I want to find someone to spend the rest of my life wit' and watch our kid grow up, too. I want to go to the North and South Pole, 'elp the 'ungry and 'omeless, go to the Oktoberfest--even though I don't really like alco'ol, learn to yoddle, and see the Northern Light."

"You don't like to drink? Really? But aren't you around alcohol all the time because of your teammates?" I asked.

"Yeah, there is alway alco'ol around, but I don not really like the taste, so I stay away from it. I'm usually the person who drive everyone 'ome, me and Sidney. Plus, I like to laugh at all of the stuff they do when they are drunk. It give me somet'ing to use as blackmail," he told me.

"A guy who doesn't like alcohol, that's strange. A good strange though," I said with a reassuring smile. "Most guys worship it."

"I know. Do you drink?"

"Nah, for pretty much the same reasons as you. Except I don't have any non-alcohol-drinking friends to hang with," I stated.

"I'll be your non-alco'ol-drinking friend," he replied, smiling.

I smiled. "Sounds like a plan."

We people-watched and saw the rest of the animals as we made our way towards to exit. Kris even won me a stuffed flamingo from throwing darts at balloons. He said it was one of his many hidden talents. Uh huh, sure. We decided to name it Jorge, for no particular reason.

We got to Kris' car and he took me back to my place.

"You want to stay and watch a movie or something?" I asked.

"Yeah, sure. But on one condition," he said with a slight smirk.

"Fine," I dragged out the word.

"I get to pick out the movie."

"Deal," I said.