The Light That Wraps You

Do you remember the time you got into a fight with Charlene, and you came to me? You were furious, mon ami. I don’t remember what it was about--you probably don’t either--but I remember you told me, a fire in your eyes:

“Don’t ever fall in love, Kris,” you said, your voice savage and not your own. “Don’t ever do it. The moment you do, you lose yourself.”

Of course, the two of you made up the very next day, and you carried on with a loopy smile, as if nothing had ever happened. But I remembered those words, and I pondered what could have been so terrible about that fight to make you say something like that. I’d had a couple of girlfriends in the time that you had known me, but none of them lasted. They were lovely, kind girls, but there was never that infamous “spark”, there was never that undeniable feeling where I knew they were the one. Not like you and Charlene. I was so confused; if you two were so in love, how could you say such things? I could not wrap my head around it. After a while, I didn’t bother myself with it, because I loved hockey and that was enough for me.

Until I lost you, and I found myself alone with a sport that I no longer desired.

Now, you are no doubt shaking your head at me, your hands on your hips, and a sad, bemused smile on your face because I have done it. I have done what you told me not to, and I have fallen in love and I know what made you say those words that night. I know what it is that makes people wonder why they have hearts at all.

Our last game before the Winter Classic was on the twenty-ninth, against the Islanders. I’m not sure what it was--if it was just the season, or if it was just us, still hungover from the holidays, but nothing was clicking, nothing was connecting, and our frustrations were mounting. The entire game had been sloppy, with all of us moving as if our legs were stuck in syrup. Sid was yelling at all of us, trying to get us fired up, but nothing was working.

Bailey scored early in the second, doing his team a favor, but the real problem was DiPietro. We had plenty of shots, particularly Sid and Geno, as they were more incensed to keep their scoring streaks going, but he was resilient. I could practically hear Sid grinding his teeth on the bench, and I knew it was killing him to not be contributing. Conner tied it up for us at the last minute (without any help from Sid), but the air reeked of desperation--ours--and it was not a fragrant scent.

Towards the end of the third, I was called on to take a penalty shot after Bruno Gervais interfered with the puck. This could have been the chance we needed, but DiPietro was infallible. My backhand missed, and I was cursing myself in my head. Thoughts of Lux broke in, and I got even angrier. Now was not the time, and I hated myself for my feelings, and for the way this game was going. Everything felt bad, and I couldn’t help but want to blame it on someone.

We went to a shootout. We lost. Everyone was pissed and Flower felt even worse. The crowd of media in the guest dressing room was unrelenting, swarming Sid the moment that he sat down. He looked as tired as we felt, and just as defeated.

Lux was waiting for us when we’re all showered and dressed. The two of us had spoken since Christmas, during games, but that was all. Neither of us had mentioned the kiss and I knew if we didn’t talk about it now, my feelings of confusion and resentment would continue to build.

I wanted to blame her, I really did. She had been in my head when she shouldn’t have been, and she distracted me from doing what needed to be done. Each moment was consumed by her, by the color of her hair, her eyes, the feel of her lips on mine, the vanilla scent of her skin. I couldn’t think, I couldn’t play, and therefore I was worth nothing to this team.

All because I am in love with her.

But because of that same fact, I couldn’t blame her. Not when she was looking at me with those eyes, so large and full of sadness and an anger that matched mine. She was not the type of woman to sit down beside me on the plane and pity me. No, she was the type to spit fire with me, and I was counting on it when she took her usual place beside me, buckling up for takeoff.

“Use this,” was all she told me, her eyes boring into mine. The color, both blue and gray, was like waves sweeping me out to sea. “I told Sid the same thing, and I am telling you now: use this loss.”

“For what?”

“For the Winter Classic. Keep that ferocity burning inside of you, Kris, and keep it safe. Use it for the game in three days time, so when you meet the Capitals and it is war, you remember this feeling and you do your best to avoid it happening again.”

“And then?”

“You win.”

So simple, that statement. If only that was all there was to it, but there was so much more to this world of ours. Even the brightest flames burned to embers, and I didn’t know if I could hold on until then. I did know that I would remember this feeling, because it was not a good one, and I didn’t want it to plague me again. I would remember it and play my hardest when the time came.

The plane ride home was silent. There was no PSP, and there was no laughter. Everyone was avoiding looking at Sid, because his face was clean-shaven and there was no longer a streak for him to celebrate. We were all shadows in the sky, and we were all praying for dreamless sleep when we arrived back in Pittsburgh.

I was not tired. I was still angry, my blood still pumping, and it wasn’t just the game, it was everything. Lux didn’t understand. She didn’t understand the Winter Classic and she didn’t understand what she was doing to me and to our team. For the first time, I was just so furious with her, and I immediately thought back to you and Charlene, and I understood everything. It was the leftover emotions from the game, projected onto her, but I couldn’t stop the rushing in my ears. Who was she to come here and insert herself into our lives? Who was she to make me fall in love with her, and then act like nothing had happened?

When we stepped off the plane, I followed her to her car, grabbing her arm before she could get inside.

“Kris,” she said without turning around, as if she knew it was me the entire time. She probably knew. She always did.

“We need to talk, Lux.”

“You are right. We need to--”

I didn’t let her finish. I couldn’t. Instead, I whirled her around and suddenly I was pressing her against her car, my knee in between her legs and my hands loosing her hair free of its bun, my finger tangled in the strands, kissing her with all of the anger and desire and helplessness that was coursing through me like a poisonous river. She was holding her bags but slowly, her grip on them loosened and she dropped them both to the frozen asphalt. Her hands ran up my back, soothing and mellow.

I kissed her until I was calmer, and until I could think without seeing red. When I finally let go of her, there was annoyance in her eyes.

“I dropped my things,” She said accusingly.

I nodded because it was true, and because it was my fault. I picked them up and put them into the back of her car for her. When I shut the door and turned to her, she was standing much further away than she had been before.

“Kris, stop.”

“Stop what?”

“I cannot control this. I am your physician, and this--”

“This?”

“Don’t pretend you don’t know what’s happening!” She almost shouted, and I saw for the first time how frightened she was. I did that. “I cannot do this. I will lose my job.”

“So? I just--I want--” My words had no meaning and neither did my feelings when I couldn’t voice them properly. She stared at me hopelessly, shaking her head.

“I cannot jeopardize this. I need this.”

“Why do you need it? Is it the money?”

“Ne soyez pas ridicule!” She snapped, and I caught a glimpse of real anger for once. She pulled her hair back into a limp ponytail, the strands still messy from my reckless hands. “I need this because I--” Her voice was suddenly thick, and she cleared her throat. “You see, he--”

He.

Oh, god.

My head spun with the realization that I had just become the king of fools. I pressed my lips into a tight line, trying not to cry or vomit or punch her car. “I see.”

“No, you don’t,” She said sadly. “You only think you do. You’re not seeing, and I can’t make you.”

“You’re not making any sense!”

“I’m making all the sense in the world!” She frowned, holding a hand against her temple, like all of this pained her immensely. This is all my fault. “Kris, you are a wonderful man, but I cannot explain to you how much I need to be here. It involves so many more people than just you and I.”

“So it’s the team?”

“Yes, and no. Don’t pursue it.” She sighed and I saw how tired she was. We all were. I could have been at home by now, throwing down my bags and stripping my way to my bed, but instead I was standing in a snowy parking lot and my heart was deflating, punctured by my own rash stupidity.

“It will do no good if we pretend this did not happen,” She said. “But it must not happen again. That’s all I will say. Good night, Kris. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She climbed into her car, and it roared to life. She drove away, growing smaller and smaller in the distance until I was standing there with my luggage, alone.

I tried hard to conjure forth a memory, a good one of you telling me just how wonderful being in love was, and how much Charlene meant to you, but nothing came. Of all the times you had mentioned me "finding a good girl like Charlene and settling down", none of them came to my mind. Every memory seemed faded, the edges burned away like a photograph held too close to a candle. I just stood there, holding my suitcase limply in one hand.

He. Who was he? My throat burned as I imagined Lux in the arms of another man. She couldn't be with someone. She would have told me, would have mentioned it on those plane rides. Even if she hadn't told me, she wouldn't have let me kiss her, and she wouldn't have kissed me back. She was not the type of person to do that. Perhaps he was an old flame that had recently resurfaced in her life? Maybe that was why she had come to Pittsburgh, to get away from him, to make up her mind on her own time.

And now I had given her one more thing to confuse her. I shook my head bitterly. Kristopher Letang, the king of fools. Where were you when I needed you? I looked up at the sky, the stars hidden behind murky clouds that glowed a sickly orange in the lights from the city. Where were you when I needed someone to tell me to stop, to avoid that downward spiral as quickly as I could?

"Luc?" I whispered, your name tasting unfamiliar. It had been so long since I had said it aloud. "If you're listening, I need you now." Tell me what to do. Tell me that it's worth it.

There was no answer, nothing but the wind swirling past me in a flurry of snow. I was alone in the dark quiet of night and with a heavy sigh, I turned to go.