Status: One Shot and Done.
Everyday I Stay The Same
everyday i stay the same
Stepping off the plane feels like deep sleep, the kind you fight but cannot overcome. Some part of you is conscious but is powerless to bring you fully awake. You’re probably dreaming. Only this dream is a nightmare.
I used to love this place.
Kris lugs his carryon through the airport, hat pulled low over his head. Virtually no one would recognize him here – that’s not what he’s hiding from. He doesn’t want to see anything that reminds him. Which is everything. Back to sleep, he wishes. His parents wait outside the terminal exit like he’s 12 years old. Their smiles inspire him and he briefly smiles back. If he can just get home, maybe he can ignore everything long enough to get comfortable here. Except for that look in his mother’s eye.
They roll along the highway, over the river and finally through the streets of his old neighborhood. The house is different – he bought it for them a few years ago. But it’s the same town he grew up, where he’s spent off seasons for the last few years. He used to love coming back here. It’s home. But now it’s more than that.
It’s her, his brain whispers. And it’s right.
Kris lies down on his bed. It’s not easy, it seems too big. Empty. Looking around the room he knows it will always feel this way. Without. He just has to get adjusted then he’ll forget. Get a routine going, concentrate on training. Maybe go to Sid’s in Nova Scotia or Jordan’s in Thunder Bay. Maybe soon.
Running away again, he knows. Still he plans the trips in his head.
The first few days he sleeps a lot. The season was rough, though not nearly as long as they might have liked. Two straight years of making the Stanley Cup Finals gives you a warped perception of how long hockey should last. Now it’s barely mid-May and he’s staring holes in the walls. Sleep provides some of the release he’s seeking.
After a few days, friends start to call. Kris goes out, hangs out, has fun. The disappointment from the season’s end starts to wear off. Max feels it too – he calls from across town and promises to take them out over the weekend so they can tear it up. Kris even starts to run in the early mornings. His body is bruised and drained from so much hockey, but the running loosens him up. It focuses him.
I can do this, he tells himself and he pounds out kilometers along the waterfront.
No one mentions her. No one asks or offers. Kris pretends she is not on his mind, in his heart, in his dreams. He acts like he doesn’t see her in every place they used to go. He pretends that he doesn’t go to sleep next to her every night, and wake up with her every day. Still after 9 months.
When the weekend rolls around, it’s a relief to see Max. Kris’ friends are great about understanding, but they are really just guessing. The pressure, the letdown, the surprise – only a teammate could really understand. For all his bravado, Max is an excellent friend. And he knows just the thing to take Kris’ mind off hockey. Max’s brothers are there, along with some other friends and a handful of girls. They never start the night off with many females, preferring to select them from galleries along the way. By the end of the night, Max will probably have three. Each other guy will have one. Kris wonders if he could, if he’d want to.
He’s been with other girls since her. Nothing serious, but that’s what he wanted. Just one-nighters and the occasional repeat business. He’s a nice guy – he knows their names, remembers them. But they don’t matter. They just keep him from going crazy. And they keep his teammates from asking questions. Some of the guys must know, like Flower and Crosby. They’re more sensitive, they’d notice. For the most part Kris succeeds in keeping his secret.
Max’s gang heads for Loft. They valet and are giving their names at the door when a taxi van pulls up. The arrival of six pieces of fresh meat could not go unnoticed by this group. Will goes right over and offers his hand as the girls climb down. Max isn’t far behind. One, two, three… there sure are a lot of people squeezed into this cab. Just when Kris is sure there couldn’t be another body inside, the whole world comes to a halt.
He’ll swear later that he recognized her legs. It’s entirely possible. He’ll say he knew it was her by the feel of the air, the electricity in the ground, by the taste of strawberries on his tongue. That his heart was broken all over again before he even saw her face.
“Mademoiselle,” Max purrs, helping her out. She’s wearing nude-colored high heels that conspire to make her legs look ten feet long. A drapey dress of sapphire silk stops well short of her knees. The boat neck floats into short sleeves and a bracelet sparkles on her wrist. Long, wavy hair the color of clover honey spills down her back. She’s out, her hand still in Max’s, before she raises her head.
Blue eyes, Kris’ brain steels itself against the inevitable.
And there they are. Kris’s favorite part of her – a real accomplishment when there are so many things to like. Eyes are the color of her dress mixed with liquid light. And they’re looking right at him.
“Mon dieu,” she says softly, catching her breath.
Kris feels like he’s been put out an airlock in a science fiction movie, to slowly suffocate in the blackness while his body pinwheels through the atmosphere in slow motion. In space, no one can hear you scream. The moment stretches endlessly. Everyone else is inside. Max holds her hand, looking from one of them to the other. They are both stock still. Neither breathes.
“I take it you two know each other,” Max finally says after one hundred years of solitude.
“Kris,” her small voice cracks.
“Genevieve,” he barely says.
____
The last time I saw her she was walking away.
The previous summer, in the post-Stanley Cup Champions euphoria, Kris let his guard way down and had an off-season that seemed like magic. Too good to be true is an understatement. He was 22, had achieved his dream and was living the best moments of his life. Somewhere in that heady, full-speed tumult, he fell desperately in love.
People came out of the woodwork to congratulate Kris. His parents had people over almost every day. One day Kris came home from the gym to find a vision of perfection lying by his pool. She wore a red bikini, sipped an iced tea and flipped through a magazine. He stood at the kitchen window staring at her, as if she might disappear the instant he looked away. Kris was dumbstruck. Eventually, she felt his eyes on her and looked over. Then she waved.
Genevieve was the daughter of his mother’s friend. Their mothers had gone to the store for food. An impromptu dinner party had been called and Genevieve was left to guard the house in their absence.
By the end of dinner, Kris was enamored. She was certainly the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. More importantly, she was funny. And smart. She even liked hockey – hell, she was Canadian, but she was so gorgeous he assumed she’d be interested in shopping and manicures. Instead she knew about shootouts and plus/minus ratings. Kris lost his train of thought so often Genevieve thought he might have suffered a late-season head injury.
The next day, Kris’ mother launched a sneak attack. She sent Kris to the neighborhood farmer’s market. Genevieve’s mother did the same. When Kris spotted her, she was in front of a market stall, wearing shorts and espadrilles laced around her calves. Kris had trouble breathing as he watched her give a sample strawberry the time of its life.
She kissed him that day, for the first time, still tasting of strawberries.
He saw her every moment he could. For two months, they were completely inseparable. Staying with their parents led to a lot of abbreviated fooling around while moms and dads pretended nothing was going on upstairs. It left them both laughing in frustration. So Kris got a hotel room whenever they wanted to be alone together. By mid-July, they were practically living out of their bags.
The only thing Kris did wrong was tell himself it wasn’t a big deal. Maybe it was his ego, inflated from the Stanley Cup win. Maybe he was too young. Maybe he was scared – not wanting to ask for something he might not be able to have. So he played it as cool as he could. They were like best friends who claim they’re not in love. But they are. Kris an Gen they were much more than friends.
The first time Kris ever made love was with Genevieve. He’d been with plenty of girls – too many, he thought, but he’d been trying to fit in during his first few years in the League. It was fun but it never meant anything. Sex with Genevieve had a million different sides. Sometimes it was passionate, sometimes they laughed. They were dirty and rough, or comforting and calm. Drunk, sober, night, day… finally Kris knew what everyone was always making a big deal about. And still he refused to admit that meant that Genevieve herself was a big deal too.
The summer drew to a close. Right up to the end, Kris pretended he had it all under control. She started to hint about the fall, about going back to university in Toronto. About them. Kris played it off. We don’t have to label it, let’s just keep this going, everything is so good. Don’t rock the boat.
What he should have been thinking was: Will she come with me? I can never be apart from her. How can we make this work? He wouldn’t realize that until later.
At the beginning of August, they hit the two week countdown. Kris was due in Pittsburgh for training camp. Genevieve’s summer sublet was leaving and she was moving back into her Toronto apartment. She began to talk outright about what would happen to them:
“What are we going to do when the summer is over?” she’d ask.
“We’ll figure it out,” he’d say, kissing her to distraction.
She told herself he was worried. That she wasn’t being clear enough that she’d do anything to be with him. So she started trying harder:
“I can’t wait to visit you in Pittsburgh,” she’d say.
“Don’t worry about that now,” he’s answer.
Kris buried his feelings so deeply that he didn’t realize Genevieve was starting to panic. He’d been telling her all summer that she made him happy, that she was the most beautiful girl he’d ever known. He just didn’t put a future to it. Part of him realized that he was skirting the issue. But it never seemed like the time to bring it up when there were much more important things to do:
“I have to pack for school,” she told him with ten days left.
“Pack tomorrow,” he replied, clearing her suitcase from the bed.
When the end came, it surprised Kris. Genevieve had been jumpy for weeks, but the reality had not hit Kris until there were only three days left. He wanted to take her away for the last weekend. She had other ideas.
“Kris, I can’t. This is ending, we should just let it end.”
Ending? Kris’s brain kicked into overdrive. Ending? The summer is ending. This is not ending.
“What do you mean, ending?” he asked.
She looked confused. “I’m leaving. You’re leaving. Summer’s over, Kris.”
“But we aren’t over. I don’t want to be over.”
“What?! You haven’t said a word about what happens after the summer. I’ve been asking you for weeks. I thought you were through with me when you went back to Pittsburgh.”
Now it was his turn to be confused. “Are you through with me?”
She tossed down whatever she was holding. “What choice do I have? You go off to hockey, road trips and parties and puckbunnies and I’m at school, same as always. I won’t just hang around and wait for you to be finished with your exciting life.”
“Gen, I don’t want that. I want to be with you.” He felt as stupid as he did surprised. He knew he’d avoided the issue. But surely it wasn’t too late. “We can do long-distance. You can trust me.”
Tears came to her eyes. “I trust you, Kris. But I don’t want to spend the next ten months never having you around, always missing you.”
Of course, that would happen anyway.
“Come to Pittsburgh,” he blurted out. Full panic mode now.
She put her hands on her hips and the tears turned angry. “If you’d asked me that a month ago, I would have done it. Two weeks ago even - I could have transferred. I would have done that for you, Kris. But it’s too late now.”
“It’s not,” he reached for her.
For the first time ever she backed away from his touch. “It’s too late, Kris. You’re too late.”
He recoiled from her denial. Everything had been so easy, so obvious and natural between them. Suddenly the ground was very unsteady.
“You should go,” she said quietly.
When Kris got home, he stared silently at the wall for hours. Until the middle of the night. He could not compute what had just happened. All the things he’d told himself were obviously lies. He wanted her. All the times he’d changed the subject were obviously mistakes. He wanted to be with her. All the times he’d held her, kissed her, been with her were obviously right. He was in love with her.
He drove to her house at 3 AM. He called from the driveway. It was warm enough that she came down in shorts and a tank top, walked barefoot across the gravel to his car.
“Gen, please. I don’t want this to be over,” he pleaded.
“I don’t see what choice we have, Kris. I want to be with you. Physically with you. I don’t want to be a thousand miles away knowing we can’t be together. You never asked, so I thought that meant you didn’t want to be with me.”
“I want to be with you.”
“I wish it were that easy, Kris. I can’t transfer now. It’s too late. I leave in two days,” she said sadly. “We have to leave this behind.”
“Gen, I love you,” he said. Out loud. Finally.
“I love you too, Kris. A lot of good it does us now. Where was that when I really needed it?”
She’d gone inside then, and not answered his calls the next day. The last morning, he went to her house. Her mom’s car was packed to the brim, even the backseat was full. Her whole life was in that car – no room for him. When she came outside, she was carrying one of his black Penguins hooded sweatshirts.
“Keep it,” he said.
“No more space,” she replied.
Genevieve put her arms around Kris for the last time. She felt the silky texture of his dark hair, the deep warmth of his body. His soft, ripe lips pressed to her neck and she sighed. Tears stung her eyes. Kris’s arms were so heavy, his body so perfect, hugging him was the most protected feeling in the world. But it hadn’t protected her.
“Goodbye Kris.”
“I love you, Genevieve.” He did not let her go.
“I love you too, Kris. Thanks for the great summer.” She walked away, not so much as a look back.
____
After one day back in Pittsburgh, Kris realized he had a huge hole in his life. Genevieve had become part of him and he hadn’t fully realized. Now she wasn’t only not there, she was really gone. All the things she’d called exciting – hockey, road trips, parties – seemed hollow and painful. He did his best to man up, to fool his teammates. But inside Kris felt dead.
He called a lot during the first few weeks. Twice she answered. Minutes later, she’d hang up crying. Kris knew he wasn’t making it any easier for her, picking the wound. Slowly he stopped calling, stopped emailing. It only served to harden the numb patch that had grown over his heart.
Kris knew that he’d let her get away. He tortured himself all season by loving her as much as he had that summer.
____
The sound of his name from her lips made Kris’ whole world blink. He was in a comic strip and someone was erasing the ground beneath his feet. He needed to speak, needed to think, but nothing would come.
“Gen are you com… woah. Shit.”
Marielle comes back to the door in search of her friend. She sees the look on Gen’s face, follows it to Kris and stops in her tracks. Kris doesn’t take his eyes of Genevieve but he remembers the voice, remembers Marielle as the best friend who had been so happy for them the summer before. Who probably hates him for the way it had ended. Max drops Gen’s hand – he’s in over his head. Instead he ducks the rope, takes Marielle’s elbow and escorts her inside.
Kris and Gen stand there, staring at each other. The bouncer stares. The people in line stare. Even the driver of their cab is still there, staring.
“You two coming in?” the bouncer asks. Gen hurries inside. It takes Kris a moment to follow.
She goes right to the bar. By the time Kris reaches her, she has two shots and two drinks lined up. Without speaking, she gives him one of the shot glasses, taps hers down on the bar and drains it. Then she chases it with a sip of her drink. Kris tosses his back – tequila, he knew it would be. The fiery taste gives him a shiver, he’s tasted that on her tongue many a memorable night. Then he gulps his glass. She’s ordered his favorite, Black Label whisky neat.
She takes a deep breath, faces him and says, “Hi.” It’s resolute, like the voice you use to tell someone you’re completely sure you’re going to throw up.
“Hi,” he manages. “You look fantastic.”
“You look sad,” she says. Shot through the heart. She always could.
“Coming back here was not easy,” he admits ambiguously.
She arches her eyebrows. “I know the feeling.”
It’s quiet for a moment. Kris desperately wants to talk with her, laugh with her. He wants to hold her and kiss her and take her home. But he can’t come up with anything that doesn’t kick the long-dead corpse of their relationship in its cold grave.
“Sorry your season ended early,” she says. “I… I was rooting for you. I watched some of the playoffs.” He smiles gratefully. If she were on TV he’d watch it every second of the day. But he knows that she’ll protect herself.
“Thanks. How was school?” he asked. Then it struck him. “Did you just graduate?”
Her smile is thin, like she thinks he should have remembered. Of course he should have.
“Last weekend,” she says. Kris feels like an asshole.
“Congratulations,” he says weakly. Gen starts looking around. Their friends have meshed since the stars aligned to deliver them at the same time. They are dancing and drinking and a few have claimed a couch on the far side of the room.
“Looks like we’re stuck with each other tonight,” she says. Her expression is flat.
Kris orders another round of drinks. Until now, he’d thought he would eventually get over her. Maybe not this summer, but next summer he could walk around this city and not feel her ghost. He convinced himself all he needed was time.
Now he knew he’d been very wrong.
____
“Please,” Gen says softly.
Kris is more drunk than he meant to be. Fear and lust and long, awkward pauses have given him a lot to cover up tonight. Now he’s standing against the wall, watching Gen and Marielle whisper loudly to each other over the music. He can hear everything they say.
“Everyone wants to stay. But you should go, don’t worry about it. They’ll call you a cab. You can get a do-over next time we go out.”
A do-over? For what? Kris wonders.
Gen kisses Marielle’s cheek, then turns to him. “I’m going home. Have a good night.” And she races into the crowd.
Kris knows he’ll never see her again. She will disappear, hide all summer if she has to, just to get away from him. They’d gotten quietly drunk but never broached anything friendly. It’s a bad idea, he knows, but he follows her out. She’s talking to the bouncer, the same one who watched them before.
“Your boyfriend’s back,” he says to Gen.
Her mouth is a tight line. He knows, from having crammed so much knowing her into just a few months, that she is about to cry. And that she’s really fighting it.
“Let’s walk,” Kris says.
She sighs exaggeratedly, as if she cannot get a single thing she wants in the whole world right now. But she starts walking. They make it a few doors down, to a bench outside a diner.
“If you want to say something, say it now Kris. I can’t walk all night in these shoes.” She sinks onto the bench.
“I want to say I’m sorry, Gen. I didn’t expect to see you tonight.”
She rolls her eyes. “I didn’t expect to see you either. I certainly didn’t invite you to my party.”
“Party?”
“Graduation party. The graduation you almost remembered? This is the Montreal part of it. Some party!” She waves her hand at the deserted street around them.
“Oh God, I’m sorry,” he drops onto the bench next to her. “I should have known something was up with that dress.”
She is not amused. “Maybe in the last year I’ve become a fashionista. Maybe I dress like this all the time now. You would never know.”
“You should. It looks amazing.”
She won’t let him win. “So now my normal clothes are boring? Jeans and tank tops not good enough for you anymore?”
He backpedals. “Woah, I didn’t say that. I was complimenting you.”
“Save it, Kris. Just tell me what you want.”
He doesn’t know. I want to be near you is too creepy. I want to apologize is banal, he’s done that a million times. I want to fix this. That’s better.
“I want to fix this, Gen,” he speaks.
“Fix it into what, Kris? You want to get back together? We were never really together. People who are together don’t just up and leave.”
“We were together. At least, I was with you,” he says.
“Until I wanted to be with you,” she spits. “Then it was too much and you didn’t want me around.” She gets up and starts walking. A group of people heading to another bar part to let her through, some of the guys give her a long second look. Kris charges through them.
“Genevieve. Stop.” She doesn’t, so he chases her. “Please, stop.”
She’s crying now, tears tracking down her cheeks. “Why, Kris? You ran away. Now it’s my turn. If I could leave you here, feeling as empty and unwanted as I felt, as much like a piece of garbage, I would. But I can’t. You are everywhere here. I used to love this place and now it’s ruined.
“I have been trying to forget you all year. You’re not the only one who can forget.” She spins away again.
“I never forgot,” Kris says.
“Liar. You called until you felt better, just so you’d know I was still a mess. Then you dropped off the face of the Earth. No more use for me. Not going to put up with some hysterical chick in Canada when all of Pittsburgh is lined up at your locker room door.” She got right in his face. “What is this now, Kris? Home and bored and looking for a summer fling? See if I’m still hanging around, waiting for you to pick me?”
To prove she was not, she set off again.
“Gen, I stopped calling because I knew it was hurting you. I couldn’t change anything. I didn’t want to make it worse for you.” He stops, willing her to do the same.
“It would have been nice to know that you were hurting too, Kris. I didn’t want to be the only one.”
“You weren’t.”
She shrugs, tired and sad. “Doesn’t matter now.”
____
Kris can’t think of a thing to do. He has to see her. Has to talk to her. He calls but she doesn’t answer. He runs past her house then shies away when he feels like a stalker. Finally, he gets an idea.
“Hi Marielle,” he says. He’s at the customer service desk of the bookstore where she works every summer. She stares blankly at him.
“She won’t talk to me.”
Marielle narrows her eyes. “Why should she? What could you possibly have to say that’s more important than what she said to you last summer? ‘I love you, take me with you,’ she said. You were too late. And you certainly didn’t try very hard.”
Kris closes his eyes to block out the truth of what she’s saying.
“I still love her,” he says.
“That wasn’t enough last time. I doubt it will be now.” Then Marielle’s face softens. “She still loves you too. She spent the entire year trying to get over it, and it did not go well. So she hates herself for being weak. And for the record, I still hate you.”
Kris’s heart swells when he hears it. Gen still loves him. She also hates his guts and wants him dead. But still.
“What do I do?”
“Big gesture, Kris. You humiliated her and broke her heart. If you have any chance of saving this, you’d better make it big.”
____
Kris asks Max for help. It means telling him everything, but Kris just sucks it up. Max doesn’t hide his surprise.
“Mon ami, why didn’t you tell me? You think Mario can’t get someone transferred to a college in Pittsburgh at Christmas? What is the point of knowing people if you won’t ask them for help?”
“At Christmas, she hated me. I hid in my house for fear of seeing her,” Kris looks down, dejected. “I couldn’t go anywhere. Everything and everywhere reminded me of her.”
A lightbulb pops on. “I have an idea,” Max says.
He lays out his big idea. It’s good. It relies a lot on Genevieve giving Kris a chance, but he thinks this just might work. Kris spends three hours making a list of things he needs. But the big question is: how to approach her?
Max solves that too. He goes to Marielle’s store, turns on the Talbot charm and sweet talks her into going to lunch. An hour later, even Marielle can’t believe she’s agreed to help with Kris’ plan. Max gives her a copy of the list and a big kiss, just for good measure.
____
The next morning, Kris and Max prowl the farmer’s market until they spot Marielle and Gen at the appointed time. Kris almost feels bad – this will be hard for Gen, at least at first, and he doesn’t relish the prospect of ruining her day. But he was to start somewhere, build from the ground up. He pats his pocket.
“Hi,” Kris says, coming up behind them.
Marielle doesn’t pretend when she makes a face at him. But she does greet Max rather warmly. With a kiss. Gen’s eyes are wide and for a second she looks ready to burst out laughing. Instead she holds out her container of strawberries to Kris without looking. When he takes one, she continues down the aisle. He walks a little behind her – she doesn’t talk, but she doesn’t send him away. When she buys artichokes, she hands Kris the bag to hold. Then eggs. Half an hour later they’ve barely said a word but Kris is holding an armload of groceries. The last thing she picks is meat – sausages and ground beef. She holds that bag herself.
“Let’s find them and go eat,” she says before she heads off.
Max gives Kris a wink. Then Marielle suggests they grill at Kris’ house, out by his pool. Gen shrugs like it doesn’t matter to her if they live or die. The girls go for their suits while the boys head home to get started.
“What’s with the kissing?” Kris says when they’re driving back.
Max smiles like he’s got the winning ticket. “You didn't really think this plan was all just for you?"
Gen doesn’t talk much during lunch. Max manages to make her laugh a few times, but mostly she hangs out quietly. She modestly wears a one piece swimsuit. Kris didn’t even know they still made those anymore. When they’re done, she simply says thanks and leaves. Marielle gives them a hopeful little look. Kris has a lot of work to do.
___
It’s two days before they can orchestrate another meeting. Marielle tips them off to a movie, so Max and Kris ‘run in’ to them in the lobby. Marielle and Max share another kiss but this time Gen looks unfazed. She buys Reese’s Pieces – not her favorite candy, they are Kris’. He leads them right to her favorite seats, where they’ve sat in this theater together at least five times. But when they sit, Gen puts Max and Marielle between them. Then she leans across twice to give Kris candy. Kris keeps one hand in his pocket.
____
Another few days pass. Max and Marielle sneak kisses as the bar while they wait for a round of happy hour drinks. Gen sits across from Kris at a table, her feet up on the chair. She looks almost bored. And so beautiful. Her tan skin is set off by a yellow tank top. Black shorts show off long legs and Kris can see hot pink toenail polish peeking through her shoe. While she’s busy not looking at him, he think of a photo he has: Gen in this bar, with Marielle and other friends, laughing and toasting the camera. It had been part of Kris’ Stanley Cup party, the night before the Cup arrived. He’d spent so much time looking at that photo he almost thought he saw it come to life.
They walk along the waterfront. Just before the port in Longueuil, Max and Marielle beg off and go the other way, toward Max’s house. Gen doesn’t say anything, but keeps moving until they are fully in front of the Marina Port de Plaisance Réal-Bouvier. Sailboats and little craft bob in the water, stacked in like slices on bread in a loaf. Gen stares out over them.
“When are you going to tell me what you’re doing?” she asks.
Kris has his hands in his pockets. He knew she’d have figured it out ages ago.
“Our farmer’s market, your pool, our movie theater, our bar… and now this? This is too much, Kris,” she’s looking at him now. “I can’t do this and know you’re going to leave again. I can’t spend another few months with you and then take a year to get over it.”
On Canada Day last summer, Kris had rented a boat and taken a bunch of people out on the water. When the day was over, he and Gen stayed on the boat overnight. It was the first time they made love, the first time they woke up together, cooked each other breakfast. More than anywhere else, this was the place Kris could not escape her.
“I wanted to give you back all these places. You said you used to love coming home. I did too. But now, now I just see you.”
She shakes her head, shielding her eyes from the bright sun overhead. “What do you want me to say, Kris? That it’s all fine? I thought it was, or at least was close. Then I get out of that fucking taxi and there you are. Everything I wanted to forget.”
“I never forgot either. I never really wanted to. I still love you, Gen.”
Her eyes flash – surprise and hurt and hope and anger. The air rushes out of her body. She almost falls. Instead she staggers to the nearest pylon and perches on top of it, her head in her hands.
“How can you…,” as she lifts her head, she stops. Her voice fails.
Kris is in front of her, holding out his hand. That box he’s been carrying in his pocket all week is empty now, and a simple silver band glitters openly in the sunlight.
“Kris….” It’s the first time he’s heard her real voice since she walked back into his life. She doesn’t sound mad or cold. She sounds like herself.
“I love you Genevieve. I have wanted to be with you every day. I should have asked you last year, but I was stupid. We don’t have to do anything right away – this isn’t a diamond. It’s just a promise.
“Be with me this summer, Gen. Then come to Pittsburgh. Please don’t let any more days go by without me.”
Just before he thinks she’ll say no, just before too much time has passed in silence, she says:
“Yes.”
For a second, Kris can’t be sure he heard right. Blood is rushing in his ears. He never thought much about proposing, but he didn’t certainly didn’t expect it to come on a wave of full blown panic.
She’ll say no. Then she’ll be gone forever. She may as well kick me off this dock as she leaves, because I will never survive watching her walk away again.
“Kris, I said yes.”
He blinks a few times, coming back to Earth. Gen’s standing in front of him. He takes her right hand, slides on the ring and holds it. By itself it’s nothing special, just a band. On her, it’s everything.
She looks from the ring to Kris’ face. Her hard mask has dissolved – he sees the girl he knew, the girl he loves. When she smiles at him, for the first time in a long time, it’s like she opens a window and lets in the light.
“Don’t ever do that to me again,” she says. Then binds the deal with a kiss.
____
I used to love this place.
Kris lugs his carryon through the airport, hat pulled low over his head. Virtually no one would recognize him here – that’s not what he’s hiding from. He doesn’t want to see anything that reminds him. Which is everything. Back to sleep, he wishes. His parents wait outside the terminal exit like he’s 12 years old. Their smiles inspire him and he briefly smiles back. If he can just get home, maybe he can ignore everything long enough to get comfortable here. Except for that look in his mother’s eye.
They roll along the highway, over the river and finally through the streets of his old neighborhood. The house is different – he bought it for them a few years ago. But it’s the same town he grew up, where he’s spent off seasons for the last few years. He used to love coming back here. It’s home. But now it’s more than that.
It’s her, his brain whispers. And it’s right.
Kris lies down on his bed. It’s not easy, it seems too big. Empty. Looking around the room he knows it will always feel this way. Without. He just has to get adjusted then he’ll forget. Get a routine going, concentrate on training. Maybe go to Sid’s in Nova Scotia or Jordan’s in Thunder Bay. Maybe soon.
Running away again, he knows. Still he plans the trips in his head.
The first few days he sleeps a lot. The season was rough, though not nearly as long as they might have liked. Two straight years of making the Stanley Cup Finals gives you a warped perception of how long hockey should last. Now it’s barely mid-May and he’s staring holes in the walls. Sleep provides some of the release he’s seeking.
After a few days, friends start to call. Kris goes out, hangs out, has fun. The disappointment from the season’s end starts to wear off. Max feels it too – he calls from across town and promises to take them out over the weekend so they can tear it up. Kris even starts to run in the early mornings. His body is bruised and drained from so much hockey, but the running loosens him up. It focuses him.
I can do this, he tells himself and he pounds out kilometers along the waterfront.
No one mentions her. No one asks or offers. Kris pretends she is not on his mind, in his heart, in his dreams. He acts like he doesn’t see her in every place they used to go. He pretends that he doesn’t go to sleep next to her every night, and wake up with her every day. Still after 9 months.
When the weekend rolls around, it’s a relief to see Max. Kris’ friends are great about understanding, but they are really just guessing. The pressure, the letdown, the surprise – only a teammate could really understand. For all his bravado, Max is an excellent friend. And he knows just the thing to take Kris’ mind off hockey. Max’s brothers are there, along with some other friends and a handful of girls. They never start the night off with many females, preferring to select them from galleries along the way. By the end of the night, Max will probably have three. Each other guy will have one. Kris wonders if he could, if he’d want to.
He’s been with other girls since her. Nothing serious, but that’s what he wanted. Just one-nighters and the occasional repeat business. He’s a nice guy – he knows their names, remembers them. But they don’t matter. They just keep him from going crazy. And they keep his teammates from asking questions. Some of the guys must know, like Flower and Crosby. They’re more sensitive, they’d notice. For the most part Kris succeeds in keeping his secret.
Max’s gang heads for Loft. They valet and are giving their names at the door when a taxi van pulls up. The arrival of six pieces of fresh meat could not go unnoticed by this group. Will goes right over and offers his hand as the girls climb down. Max isn’t far behind. One, two, three… there sure are a lot of people squeezed into this cab. Just when Kris is sure there couldn’t be another body inside, the whole world comes to a halt.
He’ll swear later that he recognized her legs. It’s entirely possible. He’ll say he knew it was her by the feel of the air, the electricity in the ground, by the taste of strawberries on his tongue. That his heart was broken all over again before he even saw her face.
“Mademoiselle,” Max purrs, helping her out. She’s wearing nude-colored high heels that conspire to make her legs look ten feet long. A drapey dress of sapphire silk stops well short of her knees. The boat neck floats into short sleeves and a bracelet sparkles on her wrist. Long, wavy hair the color of clover honey spills down her back. She’s out, her hand still in Max’s, before she raises her head.
Blue eyes, Kris’ brain steels itself against the inevitable.
And there they are. Kris’s favorite part of her – a real accomplishment when there are so many things to like. Eyes are the color of her dress mixed with liquid light. And they’re looking right at him.
“Mon dieu,” she says softly, catching her breath.
Kris feels like he’s been put out an airlock in a science fiction movie, to slowly suffocate in the blackness while his body pinwheels through the atmosphere in slow motion. In space, no one can hear you scream. The moment stretches endlessly. Everyone else is inside. Max holds her hand, looking from one of them to the other. They are both stock still. Neither breathes.
“I take it you two know each other,” Max finally says after one hundred years of solitude.
“Kris,” her small voice cracks.
“Genevieve,” he barely says.
____
The last time I saw her she was walking away.
The previous summer, in the post-Stanley Cup Champions euphoria, Kris let his guard way down and had an off-season that seemed like magic. Too good to be true is an understatement. He was 22, had achieved his dream and was living the best moments of his life. Somewhere in that heady, full-speed tumult, he fell desperately in love.
People came out of the woodwork to congratulate Kris. His parents had people over almost every day. One day Kris came home from the gym to find a vision of perfection lying by his pool. She wore a red bikini, sipped an iced tea and flipped through a magazine. He stood at the kitchen window staring at her, as if she might disappear the instant he looked away. Kris was dumbstruck. Eventually, she felt his eyes on her and looked over. Then she waved.
Genevieve was the daughter of his mother’s friend. Their mothers had gone to the store for food. An impromptu dinner party had been called and Genevieve was left to guard the house in their absence.
By the end of dinner, Kris was enamored. She was certainly the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. More importantly, she was funny. And smart. She even liked hockey – hell, she was Canadian, but she was so gorgeous he assumed she’d be interested in shopping and manicures. Instead she knew about shootouts and plus/minus ratings. Kris lost his train of thought so often Genevieve thought he might have suffered a late-season head injury.
The next day, Kris’ mother launched a sneak attack. She sent Kris to the neighborhood farmer’s market. Genevieve’s mother did the same. When Kris spotted her, she was in front of a market stall, wearing shorts and espadrilles laced around her calves. Kris had trouble breathing as he watched her give a sample strawberry the time of its life.
She kissed him that day, for the first time, still tasting of strawberries.
He saw her every moment he could. For two months, they were completely inseparable. Staying with their parents led to a lot of abbreviated fooling around while moms and dads pretended nothing was going on upstairs. It left them both laughing in frustration. So Kris got a hotel room whenever they wanted to be alone together. By mid-July, they were practically living out of their bags.
The only thing Kris did wrong was tell himself it wasn’t a big deal. Maybe it was his ego, inflated from the Stanley Cup win. Maybe he was too young. Maybe he was scared – not wanting to ask for something he might not be able to have. So he played it as cool as he could. They were like best friends who claim they’re not in love. But they are. Kris an Gen they were much more than friends.
The first time Kris ever made love was with Genevieve. He’d been with plenty of girls – too many, he thought, but he’d been trying to fit in during his first few years in the League. It was fun but it never meant anything. Sex with Genevieve had a million different sides. Sometimes it was passionate, sometimes they laughed. They were dirty and rough, or comforting and calm. Drunk, sober, night, day… finally Kris knew what everyone was always making a big deal about. And still he refused to admit that meant that Genevieve herself was a big deal too.
The summer drew to a close. Right up to the end, Kris pretended he had it all under control. She started to hint about the fall, about going back to university in Toronto. About them. Kris played it off. We don’t have to label it, let’s just keep this going, everything is so good. Don’t rock the boat.
What he should have been thinking was: Will she come with me? I can never be apart from her. How can we make this work? He wouldn’t realize that until later.
At the beginning of August, they hit the two week countdown. Kris was due in Pittsburgh for training camp. Genevieve’s summer sublet was leaving and she was moving back into her Toronto apartment. She began to talk outright about what would happen to them:
“What are we going to do when the summer is over?” she’d ask.
“We’ll figure it out,” he’d say, kissing her to distraction.
She told herself he was worried. That she wasn’t being clear enough that she’d do anything to be with him. So she started trying harder:
“I can’t wait to visit you in Pittsburgh,” she’d say.
“Don’t worry about that now,” he’s answer.
Kris buried his feelings so deeply that he didn’t realize Genevieve was starting to panic. He’d been telling her all summer that she made him happy, that she was the most beautiful girl he’d ever known. He just didn’t put a future to it. Part of him realized that he was skirting the issue. But it never seemed like the time to bring it up when there were much more important things to do:
“I have to pack for school,” she told him with ten days left.
“Pack tomorrow,” he replied, clearing her suitcase from the bed.
When the end came, it surprised Kris. Genevieve had been jumpy for weeks, but the reality had not hit Kris until there were only three days left. He wanted to take her away for the last weekend. She had other ideas.
“Kris, I can’t. This is ending, we should just let it end.”
Ending? Kris’s brain kicked into overdrive. Ending? The summer is ending. This is not ending.
“What do you mean, ending?” he asked.
She looked confused. “I’m leaving. You’re leaving. Summer’s over, Kris.”
“But we aren’t over. I don’t want to be over.”
“What?! You haven’t said a word about what happens after the summer. I’ve been asking you for weeks. I thought you were through with me when you went back to Pittsburgh.”
Now it was his turn to be confused. “Are you through with me?”
She tossed down whatever she was holding. “What choice do I have? You go off to hockey, road trips and parties and puckbunnies and I’m at school, same as always. I won’t just hang around and wait for you to be finished with your exciting life.”
“Gen, I don’t want that. I want to be with you.” He felt as stupid as he did surprised. He knew he’d avoided the issue. But surely it wasn’t too late. “We can do long-distance. You can trust me.”
Tears came to her eyes. “I trust you, Kris. But I don’t want to spend the next ten months never having you around, always missing you.”
Of course, that would happen anyway.
“Come to Pittsburgh,” he blurted out. Full panic mode now.
She put her hands on her hips and the tears turned angry. “If you’d asked me that a month ago, I would have done it. Two weeks ago even - I could have transferred. I would have done that for you, Kris. But it’s too late now.”
“It’s not,” he reached for her.
For the first time ever she backed away from his touch. “It’s too late, Kris. You’re too late.”
He recoiled from her denial. Everything had been so easy, so obvious and natural between them. Suddenly the ground was very unsteady.
“You should go,” she said quietly.
When Kris got home, he stared silently at the wall for hours. Until the middle of the night. He could not compute what had just happened. All the things he’d told himself were obviously lies. He wanted her. All the times he’d changed the subject were obviously mistakes. He wanted to be with her. All the times he’d held her, kissed her, been with her were obviously right. He was in love with her.
He drove to her house at 3 AM. He called from the driveway. It was warm enough that she came down in shorts and a tank top, walked barefoot across the gravel to his car.
“Gen, please. I don’t want this to be over,” he pleaded.
“I don’t see what choice we have, Kris. I want to be with you. Physically with you. I don’t want to be a thousand miles away knowing we can’t be together. You never asked, so I thought that meant you didn’t want to be with me.”
“I want to be with you.”
“I wish it were that easy, Kris. I can’t transfer now. It’s too late. I leave in two days,” she said sadly. “We have to leave this behind.”
“Gen, I love you,” he said. Out loud. Finally.
“I love you too, Kris. A lot of good it does us now. Where was that when I really needed it?”
She’d gone inside then, and not answered his calls the next day. The last morning, he went to her house. Her mom’s car was packed to the brim, even the backseat was full. Her whole life was in that car – no room for him. When she came outside, she was carrying one of his black Penguins hooded sweatshirts.
“Keep it,” he said.
“No more space,” she replied.
Genevieve put her arms around Kris for the last time. She felt the silky texture of his dark hair, the deep warmth of his body. His soft, ripe lips pressed to her neck and she sighed. Tears stung her eyes. Kris’s arms were so heavy, his body so perfect, hugging him was the most protected feeling in the world. But it hadn’t protected her.
“Goodbye Kris.”
“I love you, Genevieve.” He did not let her go.
“I love you too, Kris. Thanks for the great summer.” She walked away, not so much as a look back.
____
After one day back in Pittsburgh, Kris realized he had a huge hole in his life. Genevieve had become part of him and he hadn’t fully realized. Now she wasn’t only not there, she was really gone. All the things she’d called exciting – hockey, road trips, parties – seemed hollow and painful. He did his best to man up, to fool his teammates. But inside Kris felt dead.
He called a lot during the first few weeks. Twice she answered. Minutes later, she’d hang up crying. Kris knew he wasn’t making it any easier for her, picking the wound. Slowly he stopped calling, stopped emailing. It only served to harden the numb patch that had grown over his heart.
Kris knew that he’d let her get away. He tortured himself all season by loving her as much as he had that summer.
____
The sound of his name from her lips made Kris’ whole world blink. He was in a comic strip and someone was erasing the ground beneath his feet. He needed to speak, needed to think, but nothing would come.
“Gen are you com… woah. Shit.”
Marielle comes back to the door in search of her friend. She sees the look on Gen’s face, follows it to Kris and stops in her tracks. Kris doesn’t take his eyes of Genevieve but he remembers the voice, remembers Marielle as the best friend who had been so happy for them the summer before. Who probably hates him for the way it had ended. Max drops Gen’s hand – he’s in over his head. Instead he ducks the rope, takes Marielle’s elbow and escorts her inside.
Kris and Gen stand there, staring at each other. The bouncer stares. The people in line stare. Even the driver of their cab is still there, staring.
“You two coming in?” the bouncer asks. Gen hurries inside. It takes Kris a moment to follow.
She goes right to the bar. By the time Kris reaches her, she has two shots and two drinks lined up. Without speaking, she gives him one of the shot glasses, taps hers down on the bar and drains it. Then she chases it with a sip of her drink. Kris tosses his back – tequila, he knew it would be. The fiery taste gives him a shiver, he’s tasted that on her tongue many a memorable night. Then he gulps his glass. She’s ordered his favorite, Black Label whisky neat.
She takes a deep breath, faces him and says, “Hi.” It’s resolute, like the voice you use to tell someone you’re completely sure you’re going to throw up.
“Hi,” he manages. “You look fantastic.”
“You look sad,” she says. Shot through the heart. She always could.
“Coming back here was not easy,” he admits ambiguously.
She arches her eyebrows. “I know the feeling.”
It’s quiet for a moment. Kris desperately wants to talk with her, laugh with her. He wants to hold her and kiss her and take her home. But he can’t come up with anything that doesn’t kick the long-dead corpse of their relationship in its cold grave.
“Sorry your season ended early,” she says. “I… I was rooting for you. I watched some of the playoffs.” He smiles gratefully. If she were on TV he’d watch it every second of the day. But he knows that she’ll protect herself.
“Thanks. How was school?” he asked. Then it struck him. “Did you just graduate?”
Her smile is thin, like she thinks he should have remembered. Of course he should have.
“Last weekend,” she says. Kris feels like an asshole.
“Congratulations,” he says weakly. Gen starts looking around. Their friends have meshed since the stars aligned to deliver them at the same time. They are dancing and drinking and a few have claimed a couch on the far side of the room.
“Looks like we’re stuck with each other tonight,” she says. Her expression is flat.
Kris orders another round of drinks. Until now, he’d thought he would eventually get over her. Maybe not this summer, but next summer he could walk around this city and not feel her ghost. He convinced himself all he needed was time.
Now he knew he’d been very wrong.
____
“Please,” Gen says softly.
Kris is more drunk than he meant to be. Fear and lust and long, awkward pauses have given him a lot to cover up tonight. Now he’s standing against the wall, watching Gen and Marielle whisper loudly to each other over the music. He can hear everything they say.
“Everyone wants to stay. But you should go, don’t worry about it. They’ll call you a cab. You can get a do-over next time we go out.”
A do-over? For what? Kris wonders.
Gen kisses Marielle’s cheek, then turns to him. “I’m going home. Have a good night.” And she races into the crowd.
Kris knows he’ll never see her again. She will disappear, hide all summer if she has to, just to get away from him. They’d gotten quietly drunk but never broached anything friendly. It’s a bad idea, he knows, but he follows her out. She’s talking to the bouncer, the same one who watched them before.
“Your boyfriend’s back,” he says to Gen.
Her mouth is a tight line. He knows, from having crammed so much knowing her into just a few months, that she is about to cry. And that she’s really fighting it.
“Let’s walk,” Kris says.
She sighs exaggeratedly, as if she cannot get a single thing she wants in the whole world right now. But she starts walking. They make it a few doors down, to a bench outside a diner.
“If you want to say something, say it now Kris. I can’t walk all night in these shoes.” She sinks onto the bench.
“I want to say I’m sorry, Gen. I didn’t expect to see you tonight.”
She rolls her eyes. “I didn’t expect to see you either. I certainly didn’t invite you to my party.”
“Party?”
“Graduation party. The graduation you almost remembered? This is the Montreal part of it. Some party!” She waves her hand at the deserted street around them.
“Oh God, I’m sorry,” he drops onto the bench next to her. “I should have known something was up with that dress.”
She is not amused. “Maybe in the last year I’ve become a fashionista. Maybe I dress like this all the time now. You would never know.”
“You should. It looks amazing.”
She won’t let him win. “So now my normal clothes are boring? Jeans and tank tops not good enough for you anymore?”
He backpedals. “Woah, I didn’t say that. I was complimenting you.”
“Save it, Kris. Just tell me what you want.”
He doesn’t know. I want to be near you is too creepy. I want to apologize is banal, he’s done that a million times. I want to fix this. That’s better.
“I want to fix this, Gen,” he speaks.
“Fix it into what, Kris? You want to get back together? We were never really together. People who are together don’t just up and leave.”
“We were together. At least, I was with you,” he says.
“Until I wanted to be with you,” she spits. “Then it was too much and you didn’t want me around.” She gets up and starts walking. A group of people heading to another bar part to let her through, some of the guys give her a long second look. Kris charges through them.
“Genevieve. Stop.” She doesn’t, so he chases her. “Please, stop.”
She’s crying now, tears tracking down her cheeks. “Why, Kris? You ran away. Now it’s my turn. If I could leave you here, feeling as empty and unwanted as I felt, as much like a piece of garbage, I would. But I can’t. You are everywhere here. I used to love this place and now it’s ruined.
“I have been trying to forget you all year. You’re not the only one who can forget.” She spins away again.
“I never forgot,” Kris says.
“Liar. You called until you felt better, just so you’d know I was still a mess. Then you dropped off the face of the Earth. No more use for me. Not going to put up with some hysterical chick in Canada when all of Pittsburgh is lined up at your locker room door.” She got right in his face. “What is this now, Kris? Home and bored and looking for a summer fling? See if I’m still hanging around, waiting for you to pick me?”
To prove she was not, she set off again.
“Gen, I stopped calling because I knew it was hurting you. I couldn’t change anything. I didn’t want to make it worse for you.” He stops, willing her to do the same.
“It would have been nice to know that you were hurting too, Kris. I didn’t want to be the only one.”
“You weren’t.”
She shrugs, tired and sad. “Doesn’t matter now.”
____
Kris can’t think of a thing to do. He has to see her. Has to talk to her. He calls but she doesn’t answer. He runs past her house then shies away when he feels like a stalker. Finally, he gets an idea.
“Hi Marielle,” he says. He’s at the customer service desk of the bookstore where she works every summer. She stares blankly at him.
“She won’t talk to me.”
Marielle narrows her eyes. “Why should she? What could you possibly have to say that’s more important than what she said to you last summer? ‘I love you, take me with you,’ she said. You were too late. And you certainly didn’t try very hard.”
Kris closes his eyes to block out the truth of what she’s saying.
“I still love her,” he says.
“That wasn’t enough last time. I doubt it will be now.” Then Marielle’s face softens. “She still loves you too. She spent the entire year trying to get over it, and it did not go well. So she hates herself for being weak. And for the record, I still hate you.”
Kris’s heart swells when he hears it. Gen still loves him. She also hates his guts and wants him dead. But still.
“What do I do?”
“Big gesture, Kris. You humiliated her and broke her heart. If you have any chance of saving this, you’d better make it big.”
____
Kris asks Max for help. It means telling him everything, but Kris just sucks it up. Max doesn’t hide his surprise.
“Mon ami, why didn’t you tell me? You think Mario can’t get someone transferred to a college in Pittsburgh at Christmas? What is the point of knowing people if you won’t ask them for help?”
“At Christmas, she hated me. I hid in my house for fear of seeing her,” Kris looks down, dejected. “I couldn’t go anywhere. Everything and everywhere reminded me of her.”
A lightbulb pops on. “I have an idea,” Max says.
He lays out his big idea. It’s good. It relies a lot on Genevieve giving Kris a chance, but he thinks this just might work. Kris spends three hours making a list of things he needs. But the big question is: how to approach her?
Max solves that too. He goes to Marielle’s store, turns on the Talbot charm and sweet talks her into going to lunch. An hour later, even Marielle can’t believe she’s agreed to help with Kris’ plan. Max gives her a copy of the list and a big kiss, just for good measure.
____
The next morning, Kris and Max prowl the farmer’s market until they spot Marielle and Gen at the appointed time. Kris almost feels bad – this will be hard for Gen, at least at first, and he doesn’t relish the prospect of ruining her day. But he was to start somewhere, build from the ground up. He pats his pocket.
“Hi,” Kris says, coming up behind them.
Marielle doesn’t pretend when she makes a face at him. But she does greet Max rather warmly. With a kiss. Gen’s eyes are wide and for a second she looks ready to burst out laughing. Instead she holds out her container of strawberries to Kris without looking. When he takes one, she continues down the aisle. He walks a little behind her – she doesn’t talk, but she doesn’t send him away. When she buys artichokes, she hands Kris the bag to hold. Then eggs. Half an hour later they’ve barely said a word but Kris is holding an armload of groceries. The last thing she picks is meat – sausages and ground beef. She holds that bag herself.
“Let’s find them and go eat,” she says before she heads off.
Max gives Kris a wink. Then Marielle suggests they grill at Kris’ house, out by his pool. Gen shrugs like it doesn’t matter to her if they live or die. The girls go for their suits while the boys head home to get started.
“What’s with the kissing?” Kris says when they’re driving back.
Max smiles like he’s got the winning ticket. “You didn't really think this plan was all just for you?"
Gen doesn’t talk much during lunch. Max manages to make her laugh a few times, but mostly she hangs out quietly. She modestly wears a one piece swimsuit. Kris didn’t even know they still made those anymore. When they’re done, she simply says thanks and leaves. Marielle gives them a hopeful little look. Kris has a lot of work to do.
___
It’s two days before they can orchestrate another meeting. Marielle tips them off to a movie, so Max and Kris ‘run in’ to them in the lobby. Marielle and Max share another kiss but this time Gen looks unfazed. She buys Reese’s Pieces – not her favorite candy, they are Kris’. He leads them right to her favorite seats, where they’ve sat in this theater together at least five times. But when they sit, Gen puts Max and Marielle between them. Then she leans across twice to give Kris candy. Kris keeps one hand in his pocket.
____
Another few days pass. Max and Marielle sneak kisses as the bar while they wait for a round of happy hour drinks. Gen sits across from Kris at a table, her feet up on the chair. She looks almost bored. And so beautiful. Her tan skin is set off by a yellow tank top. Black shorts show off long legs and Kris can see hot pink toenail polish peeking through her shoe. While she’s busy not looking at him, he think of a photo he has: Gen in this bar, with Marielle and other friends, laughing and toasting the camera. It had been part of Kris’ Stanley Cup party, the night before the Cup arrived. He’d spent so much time looking at that photo he almost thought he saw it come to life.
They walk along the waterfront. Just before the port in Longueuil, Max and Marielle beg off and go the other way, toward Max’s house. Gen doesn’t say anything, but keeps moving until they are fully in front of the Marina Port de Plaisance Réal-Bouvier. Sailboats and little craft bob in the water, stacked in like slices on bread in a loaf. Gen stares out over them.
“When are you going to tell me what you’re doing?” she asks.
Kris has his hands in his pockets. He knew she’d have figured it out ages ago.
“Our farmer’s market, your pool, our movie theater, our bar… and now this? This is too much, Kris,” she’s looking at him now. “I can’t do this and know you’re going to leave again. I can’t spend another few months with you and then take a year to get over it.”
On Canada Day last summer, Kris had rented a boat and taken a bunch of people out on the water. When the day was over, he and Gen stayed on the boat overnight. It was the first time they made love, the first time they woke up together, cooked each other breakfast. More than anywhere else, this was the place Kris could not escape her.
“I wanted to give you back all these places. You said you used to love coming home. I did too. But now, now I just see you.”
She shakes her head, shielding her eyes from the bright sun overhead. “What do you want me to say, Kris? That it’s all fine? I thought it was, or at least was close. Then I get out of that fucking taxi and there you are. Everything I wanted to forget.”
“I never forgot either. I never really wanted to. I still love you, Gen.”
Her eyes flash – surprise and hurt and hope and anger. The air rushes out of her body. She almost falls. Instead she staggers to the nearest pylon and perches on top of it, her head in her hands.
“How can you…,” as she lifts her head, she stops. Her voice fails.
Kris is in front of her, holding out his hand. That box he’s been carrying in his pocket all week is empty now, and a simple silver band glitters openly in the sunlight.
“Kris….” It’s the first time he’s heard her real voice since she walked back into his life. She doesn’t sound mad or cold. She sounds like herself.
“I love you Genevieve. I have wanted to be with you every day. I should have asked you last year, but I was stupid. We don’t have to do anything right away – this isn’t a diamond. It’s just a promise.
“Be with me this summer, Gen. Then come to Pittsburgh. Please don’t let any more days go by without me.”
Just before he thinks she’ll say no, just before too much time has passed in silence, she says:
“Yes.”
For a second, Kris can’t be sure he heard right. Blood is rushing in his ears. He never thought much about proposing, but he didn’t certainly didn’t expect it to come on a wave of full blown panic.
She’ll say no. Then she’ll be gone forever. She may as well kick me off this dock as she leaves, because I will never survive watching her walk away again.
“Kris, I said yes.”
He blinks a few times, coming back to Earth. Gen’s standing in front of him. He takes her right hand, slides on the ring and holds it. By itself it’s nothing special, just a band. On her, it’s everything.
She looks from the ring to Kris’ face. Her hard mask has dissolved – he sees the girl he knew, the girl he loves. When she smiles at him, for the first time in a long time, it’s like she opens a window and lets in the light.
“Don’t ever do that to me again,” she says. Then binds the deal with a kiss.
____