Mix Tapes

Our parents totally called this. They knew since the day Marc was born that we'd be best of friends. After all, our parents were well-acquainted, and I was only four days his senior: his birthday was on 28 November 1984, mine on 24 November of the same year.

We'd grown up doing literally everything with each other. In our preschool years, we drew dinosaurs trampling large cities unlike our peers, who instead drew stick-figure families standing under a lazily coloured sky. Instead of doing what we were supposed to during the coveted naptime, we'd talk to each other about stupid things, earning us a scolding from our teacher every time. But, we never seemed to care, as the same thing would happen every day.

Fast forward to second grade. Both Marc and I started playing for a co-ed peewee hockey team. He was goaltender, I played on defence. This went on until we both turned fourteen years old, the age limit for the league.

It was also this year that we started the tradition of giving each other mix tapes for our birthdays and sometimes randomly throughout the year. On my fourteenth birthday, Marc came up to me and lamely stated he couldn't think of what to get me, so he compiled a bunch of my favourite songs on a tape. I remember laughing at him and saying it was totally fine - a homemade gift was way better. After listening to it, I concluded that it was the best gift I'd received that year. Why? One Week by The Barenaked Ladies was on it. Marc knew it was my favourite song at the time, and even included his own hilarious rendition on the tape.

After graduating from high school, both of us went on to bigger and better things. Marc was went to play for the QMJHL while I went to the University of Montréal to study kinesiology. We exchanged letters and mix tapes still, but once Marc started playing for the Pittsburgh Penguins in 2003, our friendship seemed to come to a tragic end.

I was devastated when my phone calls and letters went unreturned for weeks. With every day that passed, I felt as though he got less and less interested in me, and it hit me hard.

During my sophomore year in college, I decided I would learn English and move to Pittsburgh in an attempt to re-establish any sort of relationship I had with Marc. I wanted desperately to have a friendship with him again; he was the only guy I've ever really trusted with all of my being.

So here I am now, in Pittsburgh, armed with a limited English vocabulary and a degree in kinesiology. The only problem is, I can't figure out what to do now that I'm here. There's no way I'd be able to get a job with the Pittsburgh Penguins, and I couldn't think of any other way to meet up with him. After hours of pondering in my lonely apartment, I gave up and went to my favourite café for some much needed caffeine.

It was a chilly but refreshing autumn day, so I decided to walk to the coffee shop. The occasional small gust of wind blew what few leaves there were lazily across the street. My walk was relatively short, but by the time I arrived, I was pretty cold. A blast of warm air welcomed me once I opened the café's door. I ordered my usual, a cappuccino, and sat at a table by the window. I stared out the window for what felt like hours, until the bell on the door jingled, letting workers and customers alike know someone new arrived. I thought nothing of it until I heard two men speaking in fluent Canadian French; one voice was unrecognizable, but the other was one I could distinguish any day of the week.

I glanced over towards the entrance. My mouth dropped slightly in shock. Atop Marc's head was the beanie I knitted for him when I was seventeen. I couldn't believe he still had that old thing. The fact that he still owned the hat gave me some hope he remembered who I was.

I watched him intently as he ordered a black coffee for himself and an espresso for his friend, who seemed grateful to have some caffeine in his possession. Marc laughed at how eager his friend was, which made the corners of my mouth turn up slightly. I had forgotten how much I missed his laugh.

Marc caught me staring at him; I lowered my gaze down onto the cup of cappuccino resting in my hands. I heard footsteps grow louder until Marc sat himself at my table. He said goodbye to his friend, who swiftly left.

"Justine?"

I looked at him, my voice breaking as I squeaked out my greeting of "Hi."

He laughed at me for the sudden crack in my voice, which earned him a glare. "Stop making fun of me!"

"I'm not," he countered while reaching over and ruffling my hair.

"Marc!" I squeaked again, patting down my hair.

Marc let out another laugh as I put on my best "angry" face. He just looked at me with a goofy grin. "You haven't changed much," he said.

"Is that a good thing?" I questioned.

"Of course it is!"

I smiled slightly before finishing up my cappuccino. "I can't believe you still have that beanie."

"What? I would never get rid of this hat!" He seemed almost offended. "It always reminded me of you," he added quietly.

I looked at him strangely.

"I was afraid I'd forget who you were, even after being your best friend for years," he admitted.

"You know, there's a wonderful new invention called the telephone. And not to mention the even newer one, the pen and paper," I replied sarcastically.

He looked at me quizzically, his head cocked slightly to the side. "Are you angry about that?"

I shook my head. "I was disappointed, but I've found you, so it's all good!"

Marc let out a sigh of relief, seeing as I've never been one to bitch about things, and he didn't want to be the one to make me start.

The expression on Marc's face went from relieved to the one he gets when he comes up with a brilliant idea."We should go back to my apartment and do fun stuff," he squealed like a little girl.

I got up to throw my coffee cup away while stifling a laugh. "I'm going to pretend that's not sexual innuendo and say 'yes' to your proposition."

"Justine!" he whined while joining me in my trek to the door, "That was completely unnecessary!"

"I know, but you have to admit, you walked right into that one."

"Yeah, I did." He held the café's door open for me; I waltzed out. Soon after, he joined me, draping his arm over my shoulder. I watched as our steps fell into perfect synchronization. "Oh!" My head snapped to him. "I should probably tell you, I have a roommate."

I shrugged my shoulders, not caring in the least. "As long as he don't try to undress me with his eyes, I'm totally fine with that."

"I can't guarantee that," he said in all seriousness. "But if it makes you feel any better, I'll castrate him if he tries anything sketchy."

I bit my bottom lip to prevent myself from cracking a smile. "Thanks for looking out for me."

After that more-than-idiotic conversation, Marc and I talked about basically everything we've done since his departure. He had some quite interesting stories to tell me about "that one time at training camp..."

I was in a violent fit of laughter once I stumbled into Marc's shared apartment. I doubled over, trying to calm myself down. I looked up, seeing a man with long black hair standing in front of me. "Flower!" He exclaimed."You brought a girl home!"

A blush tinged at my neck, creeping its way up to my ears, and I heard Marc let out an annoyed groan from beside me. "Kris, this is Justine."

"But of course, how could I not know?" He walked over to me, and took my hand, which he then brought to his lips. "Bonjour, mademoiselle."

"Don't even think about it, Letang," Marc growled.

He dropped my hand in an instant. "Well! I'll just be going, then. Have a fine time, you two." Kris made a beeline for the door and opened it. "And don't forget to use protection!" He cackled wildly before exiting the apartment and slamming the door behind him.

I looked over at Marc; his enormous hand was almost entirely covering his face. He looked back at me through the spaces between his fingers. "I'm really sorry about him."

"It's fine, really."

Marc regained his composure. "Go take a seat. I have to go get something."

I went over to his couch, sitting cross-legged, letting the sofa envelop me. It was honestly the most comfortable piece of furniture my ass has ever touched.

"Maaarc," I moaned once he was in my peripheral vision, "your couch is, like, so orgasmic. I think I'm going to steal it."

"Good luck with that," he plainly stated while plopping right next to me. I noticed there was a jewel CD case in his hand.

I then gasped. "Marc, is that what I think it is?!"

"If you're thinking modern version of our mix tapes, then yes."

I put on a fake frown. "Not a detailed version of your sex life? That's disappointing."

A blush found its way to his cheeks. He mumbled something in French that I couldn't really catch, since I was too focused on the CD in his hand. I snatched it from his grasp, turning it over to look at the CD, but it was then I noticed it was instead a DVD.

"Are you sure this isn't your-"

"Oh just give it to me," he said, snatching the DVD right out of my hand. He got up off the couch and popped it into the DVD player before returning to his seat.

"NOOOO!" I cried dramatically, placing my hands over my eyes. "I don't want to wa- ONE WEEK?!" The all-too-familiar tune blasted through Marc's surround sound speakers. I started laughing hysterically, letting myself fall into Marc's lap, as I saw him and some of his teammates rocking out on Guitar Hero equipment rather than actual instruments. Each of them was wearing ridiculous wigs and a pair of neon sunglasses. Wiping a tear away from my eye, I said, "Marc, you are way too awesome."

"I know, but it gets way more awesome, keep watching."

I was in disbelief that the music video could get any more awesome than that, so I shut my mouth and continued to watch. However, halfway through the song, the sound was cut off and I let out an audible cry of discontent. Some guy walked in the middle of the frame, sporting a pair of Kanye glasses and a microphone in hand. I really should have known it was going to come to this.

The guy spoke in his best Kanye voice, "Yo Canadian guys, I'm really happy for you and I'mma let you finish, but Weird Al Yankovic had some of the best parody OF ALL TIME!" The guys "playing" the song looked dumbfounded, and all walked out of the frame. The video ended with the Kanye impersonator striking a dramatic pose.

I began laughing hysterically for the third time that day, snorting every so often.

Eventually, I was able to calm myself, and I sat up, turning to face my best friend. He did so as well. "I'm glad that wasn't your sex life in detail."

"Would you shut up about that? It's not like I've had one anyway." He mumbled the last part.

I arched an eyebrow at him. "Were you intentionally avoiding having a relationship with someone?" He nodded his head. "What? Why?"

He sighed and rubbed his left arm. "I was kind of hoping you'd magically reappear in my life and that I'd be able to go out with you."

My mouth dropped in shock. "Marc, that's... how long have you felt this way?"

"Since we were thirteen. And I know, 'You could've said something!' but I was scared shitless with what you might think of me, and I still am and I really hope you-"

"Marc, you're freaking out. It's okay." I moved closer to him, taking his hands in mine. "I love you."

With that said, he leaned forward, planting a kiss lightly on my lips. My hands unwound from his, finding their way to the back of his neck, and pulled him closer. He pulled away but a few seconds later, resting his forehead on mine.

"Thanks for stalking me, creeper."

A smile pulled at the corners of my mouth. "If I wasn't a creeper, you wouldn't have had that amazingly awesome kiss."

"Je sais, ma cherie." He kissed me again.

Our parents knew Marc and I would eventually become best friends, but I bet they never assumed this would happen.