The Light That Wraps You

I had never suspected, waking up that morning, that when Lux joined us on the ice for the first time, she would do…that.

Tons of fans had gathered to watch the alumni game and see Lemieux in person, and afterwards they had lingered for our practice. The morning had been unusually warm, so there was a slight glare off the ice and before long, we were all pouring sweat. Dan was ruthless with his drills, calling out to us to work harder, go faster. Still, it had been worth it, and it had been fun to get a taste of what the next night would be like.

Then came the shootout. Fleury had been impossible to stifle, yelling curses at us and cackling behind his mask when he caught the puck or knocked it away with his pads. Finally it came down to Sid and Staalsy. Sid was the lucky one, and with Fleury’s endless taunts, it was on Jordan serve his punishment and make the climb all the way up to section 527. He didn’t even mind; he was just so happy to be back on the ice and shooting pucks. The HBO cameramen followed him, and we watched from down below, laughing at his gargantuan frame, suddenly so tiny and far away. Everyone cheered especially loud for him, and we went to the dressing rooms with smiles on our faces.

After that, it was time for the family skate. The fans trickled away, replaced with less people, our people. Most of us guys changed into t-shirts, leaving our pants and skates on, and the ice began to fill up with kids and laughter. The sun had come out from behind misty gray clouds, and suddenly everything felt right. It was a gorgeous day, our families had joined us, and Lux was going to give me a decision in a few days about where we stood, together. Hell, maybe we’d even win the game tomorrow night. Nothing could go wrong, it seemed.

My heart felt lighter than it had in days. Earlier, I had gone into that exam room with everything stripped away, determined that if this was it, it was it. She was going to know how I felt, and if it was goodbye, I would take that hit. But it hadn’t been goodbye. That had surprised me. When she had mentioned an unnamed he, I was sure that there was someone else, and all of my advances towards her had been uncalled for and confusing. I felt as if I had been forcing her to choose, so I had decided to lay it all out, plain and simple, where she could see it. But she hadn’t done what I had expected and had instead filled me with the intense hope that there might be something for us, something more.

Even the guys noticed.

“Someone’s happy today,” Sid remarked, skating in a circle around me. His hands were in the pockets of his custom vintage hoodie, and there was something like a smirk twisted on his face.

“Yeah,” Flower chimed in, holding hands with Vero. “What’s up? You were so quiet during practice and now--”

“Now you look like Marc,” Vero finished, smiling up at her boyfriend who had frowned. “What? It’s true. I have never seen Kris look so pleased.”

“I know why he’s so happy,” Max taunted, joining the fray. His two brothers were across the rink with his mom, and he was on his way over to them. Of course, he had to throw in his two cents first.

“Why?” Sid demanded, coming to a sudden stop and holding onto Flower so he didn’t fall down.

“Because someone walked in on the two of them in the exam room, and--”

“Mon dieu!” Vero exclaimed, clapping a hand over her mouth. “Kris, you were playing Doctor with Lux?”

A blush crept up my neck as the guys erupted into laughter. I folded my arms over my chest and waited for them to be done, not even mad that they were laughing. They didn’t know what I knew. They hadn’t held her in their arms, they hadn’t kissed her.

My smile dimmed briefly. Well, Staalsy had, but she hadn’t kissed him back, not like she had me.

“So that’s it then, Tanger?” Sid asked, his giggles finally fading. “You and Lux are what, together?”

I shrugged, suddenly aware of all their eyes on me. Were we together? The kisses we shared had been a promise of what was to come, but… what was to come? A thought, so sharp that it stabbed right through me, occurred to me and I felt the blood drain from my face. What if she didn’t choose me? What if, in the next few days, she decided that what we had shared was not up to par, and that it wasn’t worth it? What if there was that someone else and he amounted to more than me?

Vero, always the observant one, seemed to know of my struggle. Perhaps Lux had spoken to her about it; after all, they had become great friends since she had arrived, with Vero showing her around the city and inviting her over for dinner at least once a week.

“You two would be wonderful together,” She remarked, her voice cheerful and innocent, but her eyes locked onto mine with a stare that saw straight into my head. “Any girl would be lucky to be with you.”

Thank you. Despite her words, I couldn’t help feeling afraid. Lux wasn’t just any girl. She was the girl. From the moment I had seen her, the moment she had spoken, she had been it. She had swept into my life, the strong, beautiful tide that couldn’t be denied. I was simply a shell, waiting on the beach for my time to come, and she had stolen me. Where we’d end up, nobody knew, but I was excited for the swim all the same.

“Speaking of which, where is Lux? She missed the shootout!” Flower, taller than the four of us, raised himself even higher (or as high as he could on skates) and searched the crowds for our flaxen-haired friend. However, all that did was conjure up another fair-haired friend of ours.

“Hey guys,” Jordan said, skating up to us. “Why are you all standing around?”

“We’re looking for Lux.”

He looked surprised. “Oh. Is she coming out?”

I frowned. “Why wouldn’t she?”

He shrugged, moving lazily back and forth, his skates carving a repetitive eight into the surface of the ice. “Well, she seems kind of down. I thought she’d probably want to stay indoors, by herself.”

I seized up, staring at him. Not only had he kissed her, but now he was picking up on her emotions? What was he trying to do? “She said she was going to come out for this,” I pointed out, folding my arms over my chest.

“Well, she was crying earlier…” Max said, tapping his chin.

My gaze swung to him. “How do you know?” Had he seen us? Had he been watching?

“I saw her when you and I left. You walked on ahead, and she looked very teary. I asked her if she was okay, and she said she would be.” He shrugged. “I bet it’s the--” He made a hand motion, curving his arm down in front of his crotch before bringing it back up, like a wave.

Vero scowled. “Maxime! What have I told you about using that as a default excuse for emotional women?”

“Um, not to?”

“Exactly. Il est impoli.”

Max bowed exaggeratedly. “Toutes mes excuses, madame.”

Vero couldn’t help giggling, and she nodded. “It’s all right. Just be nicer.”

“I am always nice--”

“It’s not because she’s on the rag,” Jordan interrupted loudly, his words crude. “It’s because she’s getting sick. She’s taking these things called immunosuppressors and they lower her immune system.”

All of us regarded him blankly. He puffed his chest out, proud that he knew something we didn’t about Lux.

“What are those?” Flower looked confused.

That was the extent of Staalsy’s oh-so-impressive knowledge, and he shrugged. “She said they were a treatment for a bunch of different things.”

“Hm. I wonder what she takes them for?” Vero mused aloud, echoing all of our thoughts.

“Cramps?” Max offered. Vero hit him upside the back of head, and we all laughed.
I managed a few chuckles, but they subsided before they could become more. I was worried. Why was she taking pills? Was there something wrong with her?

Max eventually skated off to wreak havoc with his brothers with Jordan and Sid was asked to do an interview, leaving me to stand awkwardly as Flower and Vero made eyes at each other and talked about the game the following night. I was about to skate off and search for Lux myself, if only to rid myself of their cooing presence, when she arrived.

It was like she was parting the sea, as people in the crowd separated so she could pass. Someone had lent her skates, and judging by the illuminated expression on Vero’s face, I guessed it was her. She was skating alongside Duper and his wife, and was holding hands with little Kody. She was stooped over so she could talk to him, and every now and again she would laugh.

My fear vanished at the mere sight of her. Rather than her usual bun, she had let her hair down, had combed it out so it shown brilliantly in the weak sunlight. On her head was the same Penguins beanie she had worn for Christmas, and she wore a light royal blue jacket with the vintage logo on the breast. I wondered briefly where she had gotten it, when she looked up and saw us. She smiled and I forgot all about the damn jacket.

“There you are!” Flower exclaimed, nearly knocking her over in his exuberance. “We were wondering.”

“I was putting my skates on,” She said, looking down at Kody with a serene expression. “It’s been such a long time since I’ve skated, but it feels nice. It’s wonderful out here.”

“When did you learn to skate?” Vero asked, waving hello to Pascal and Carole-Lyne as they passed us.

“I took ballet as a child, and naturally, growing up in Canada, it made sense for me to skate too. I transferred some of the knowledge over, although there are worlds of difference between a wooden floor and the rink.” She laughed. “I wanted so badly to be a figure skater when I was young, but my parents wouldn’t let me.”

“Oh, why not?” Vero nearly pouted. “That would have been extraordinary! I can see it now… Lux Girard, Olympic gold medalist and gorgeous figure skater.” Her eyes grew misty. “You could wear those outfits with the little skirts and the jewels. Ah, très jolie!”

“You have some very strange ideas, Vero.” Lux’s smile faltered for just a second, a brief crack in time that only I saw. Her eyes were red from all of her crying; the very sight of it tugged at my heartstrings. “My parents were right. It was a silly pipe dream, anyway.”

Vero frowned. “But they should have encouraged you! Silly as it was, it was still your dream.”

A torturous struggle crossed Lux’s face, and she swallowed noticeably before her smile was back in its usual place, her eyes sparkling, though not as brightly as they usually did. “But if I had been a figure skater, I might never have met any of you!”

We all chuckled at that, before Flower announced he wanted to skate around and find Cookie, who owed him twenty dollars. Vero went with him, and Lux knelt down so she could look Kody in the face, peering at him through his face mask.

“I need to talk to Kris now, okay? Go find your mama and papa and tell them that I will be over for dinner next weekend.” He skated off in the direction that she pointed, and she stood, shoving her hands in her pockets. She watched him go, making sure he got across the ice safely. When he did, she shook her head.

“What?”

“All these children make me nervous. I love them, but I am afraid someone will trip and hurt themselves. I don’t want to clean up blood today, Kris.” She sighed, standing beside me at the edge of the rink. “Today, I am tired of being Dr. Girard. Today, I am just Lux.”

“You’re very good with kids,” I pointed out. “Kody would have kicked anyone else, I think.” I knew from experience.

Her lips curved up, and she brushed a stray strand of hair away from her face. “I worked in pediatrics for a time early in my career. I couldn’t stay, though. The children made me sad.”

“Why?”

“Seeing them hurt, and sick…” She shook her head again, shivering. “It was too much for me.” Suddenly she smiled, looking up at me. “Can we skate now? Just you and I?”

“Of course.”

She pulled one of her hands from her pockets and daringly linked her fingers with mine. I couldn’t help glancing around, at all the family members, at all our friends, at the photographers and reporters, at all the flashes and wires and opportunities they could get to make my life, and more importantly, her life more difficult.

“Don’t be nervous,” She murmured. “This is nothing but a moment.”

I forced myself to relax, clenching her warm, slender fingers tight in mine. She smiled at that.

We circled the ice several times, and it was unlike anything I had ever experienced. She skated like one of us, fluid and smooth. I could see where she had learned that subtle grace off the ice, from her dancing, and it had definitely translated to her skating as she had said. Watching her was mesmerizing. People were always asking us how we could make such a difficult sport seem so effortless, but we were all clumsy novices compared to her. She made the ice seem alive.

And it wasn’t just the way she moved, it was the way she acted as well. As we made our circuit, her personality was everywhere as she called out hellos to Disco Dan and his family, to the staff, to Max and his wild brothers, to everyone we passed. Jordan tried to entice us into a game of on-ice Chicken, which Lux immediately discouraged him from pursuing in her fear of him crushing the children, though she laughed at his enthusiasm. We chased after Johnson’s nephews, and even stopped to chat with Adams so Lux could dote on his son, Rhys. It wasn’t until she pulled me to the very center of the ice that we spoke.

She looked down at my palm, my hand held in hers. Her cheeks were flush from the skating and the cold, and she looked winded but happy. Mostly. There was still the ghost of something in her eyes and I had a feeling it had something to do with us.

“Kris, I wanted to apologize for this morning.”

My heart began to sink. “Why?”

“I meant for being so emotional. I don’t really know where my head is lately.”

“That’s all right. Staalsy said you were feeling sick.” I didn’t ask about the pills. If she was going to tell me, she would do it on her own time. Perhaps it was nobody’s business, and it was like Max had guessed. “If you want, I can bring you some soup later tonight.”

She smiled. “You don’t need to do that. I’ll be fine in no time. I always get sick in the winter.” She cleared her throat. “That wasn’t all, though. I had something else to tell you…”

“What?”

“Your tattoo, it’s…” I had never seen her so lost for words. She always had something to say, even when were drowning in despair after a tough loss or even when we were just joking around, throwing flimsy insults back and forth at each other. She always had something on the tip of her tongue and she was always there for us, but now it seemed like she had run out of words.

“Yes?” She had acted strange when she had seen my tattoo, like she had seen a phantom. I thought perhaps she’d had a phobia of needles, but as a doctor, that seemed unlikely. Maybe she just didn’t like tattoos--but why then she would have called it lovely?

“I just wanted to tell you that I think it is beautiful,” She said slowly, softly. Her index finger traced the lines on my palm. “You are beautiful.” I flushed, but she kept going. “And that I am sorry. For…Luc.”

I thought I had cried every single tear I could have ever shed for you when it had happened. It had been alone, in private, in my house where no one could see and no one could ask me questions over and over again. I had never felt truly weak until that moment. I was helpless, curled up on the floor and sobbing for you, a lost brother, a fallen friend. I had drained myself dry, and hadn’t cried since then, not even during the press conferences or interviews. I had teared up during the celebration on the ice with the Stanley Cup, knowing that you shared in the win with me, but I had not cried since it had happened.

And here was this girl, holding my hand, the two of us standing in the middle of everyone else, about to make me cry for you. There was a sudden pain in my chest when I realized that I wasn’t done, that I might never be done, because the fact remained that you were still gone and even after several years, this was not a dream that I could wake from.

“Oh, Kris,” She whispered when she noticed how I had suddenly ducked my head and let my hair fall in my face. “Though he is gone from this world, he is not truly gone. He lives here.” She pressed one of her hands to my chest, her fingers spread over my heart. “He lives in your memories. He lives in you.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I know he makes you feel weak. Every time you remember him, you feel that loss of control about what happened to the two of you. But Kris, you’re not weak. You’re anything but. You are a warrior, and he is proud of you.” She squeezed my hand. “Trust me, I know it.”

“How do you know?”

“I just do.”

Then, before I could stop her or ask her to think about what she was doing, she stood on her tiptoes as best as she could in her skates, pushed my hair back from my face, and kissed me full on the mouth. She had said we couldn’t do this again and yet here she was, making the first move in a crowd of people. Some part of her was defiant, going against everything she was thinking, and it made my heart swell. I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her into me. She was warm and she smelled of rich vanilla, and I wanted to spend that entire frigid day with her on the ice, until the moon rose and we were just spirits in the snow.

Someone may have seen us. Someone may have pointed us out, and at some point, there could have been pictures taken. I couldn’t say for sure. All I knew was Lux had kissed me in front of everyone and because of that, everything would be okay.



Though Lux had told me so, I felt nothing at all like a warrior the next night.

The trouble started early, with the weather. Though the temperature remained in the fifties, what had once been an afternoon game was pushed back seven hours to eight o’clock, due to the surprise rain that had shown up. All the weather analysts were scrambling, making calls and stalking every single meteorologist from Pittsburgh to Toronto, trying to get up-to-date news and accurate reports. By the time we were ready to go, they announced we wouldn’t play until night.

Maybe that was what shook us. Whatever it was, something stayed with us the entire night and threw us off early on.

The game began in a haze of fire and rain, with us walking out of the tunnel alongside the Capitals. The audience, enormous even for us, cheered and booed in equal measure, and our hearts lifted despite the weather. There was a lot of pomp and circumstance that we were forced into, more so than a regular game, and a lot of the guys (myself included) were antsy to begin.

The first period started off sloppy. The ice was a mess, soaked from the rainfall, making the puck stick when it shouldn’t have. A few penalties were called, Rupp and Erskine threw down, and the period ended with each of us scoreless. It set our teeth on edge, but we had gotten our feet underneath us and adjusted to the wet ice, so when we came back for the second, we expected things to go better than they had.

And they did, for a time. I fed a pass to Geno off the boards early, and he snapped it past Varlamov with a wicked wrist shot. We crowded him in exultation, certain that this would be what we needed. We were wrong. A few minutes later, in the confusion of so many bodies in front of the net, Knuble whipped the puck in while Flower was distracted and the Capitals tied it up. We weren’t really worried. It was a tie; we could break it. We just had to find that momentum again, and we’d be fine.

But we didn’t. There were a lot of bad calls and disallowed goals; saying we were frustrated was the biggest understatement I had ever heard. Sid evolved into something dark and dangerous, his eyes full of flames, as he uncharacteristically screamed at the refs. They threatened him with more penalties, more opportunities for the Capitals to score on a power play like Knuble, and he fell into a fuming silence on the bench.

The night grew and the weather worsened with our moods. I hated that feeling. Lux was watching us and for something as marvelous as this event, she shouldn’t have had to witness us play that badly.

Fehr broke the tie when Flower left the net. It was something so simple, something he did a million times to fetch the puck from the trapezoid out back and pass it to one of us. But he didn’t see Johansson, and he didn’t see Fehr out in front. He scored an empty-netter, and I swear, Sid was ready to open his veins with his skates any second. He looked ready to kill every single one of the Capitals with his bare hands.

Just when we thought things couldn’t get worse, they did. The second period was nearing its end, and all of us were just dicking around with the puck, wasting seconds and waiting eagerly for that buzzer. We needed a pep talk, and bad. We needed Sid’s fury to fuel us, and we needed Dan’s calm, collected words to keep us focused. But out of nowhere, when no one was paying attention, Steckel and Sid collided. Sid was going after the puck and had turned his head at the last, worst second. He collapsed, and the entire crowd groaned, shocked and horrified all at once.

The buzzer went off, and Sid skated to the bench, slow and bent over at the waist. I followed him, making sure he got to the bench safely. “Comment le mauvais?”

“I’m fine,” He gritted out. “It’s nothing.”

Never had I heard some less fine than him.

Lux was waiting for him when we returned to the dressing room. She examined him right there in front of everyone, with no time to spirit him away to the distant exam room. Dan talked, but I didn’t listen. My eyes were on the two of them. She was standing in between his knees, barely taller than he was sitting. She was shining a light in his eye and he was holding an ice pack to his head. He looked pale.

She said she didn’t like it and advised him to sit the last period out. She was ignored. The third period began, and we started shuffling back out there. Everyone was avoiding Sid’s gaze, all of us afraid to speak of what had just happened. For him to be hurt…it didn’t bear mentioning.

Before we left, I locked eyes across the room with Lux. She looked as helpless as I felt, and I saw the fear and the worry there. Non, Sid was not all right and for the first time, both of us realized that we might not win tonight.

“After,” She mouthed. “I’ll see you after.”

That was the only thing that kept me going as we fell to the Capitals, 3-1.



It wasn’t the Finals, but it felt just as important and we all felt just as crushed going home that night. Perhaps it would not have been so bad if it were someone other than the Capitals, and we hadn’t been filmed for months in the days leading up to it. Unfortunately, those were the circumstances, and now millions of people got to see our dissatisfaction on television.

It was humiliating. Nobody spoke, and I knew the next few days were going to be incredibly painful for all of us, especially those of us with families. Already they had gathered in the dressing room, but there were no words for how terrible we felt. Flower felt the worst. When Vero came to take him home, he didn’t even wait for her, he just took his gear and left. She stayed for a minute to talk to Lux. I watched from across the room as they spoke. Vero was biting her lip unsurely, her normally cheerful eyes sad. Lux put her hand on Vero’s shoulder and kissed her cheeks. Everyone began to trickle away after that, until the only people who were left were Jordan, Lux, and I.

“I guess I’m the only one who’s happy,” He remarked, as the three of us walked together out to the parking lot.

“You don’t sound happy,” Lux pointed out.

“I’m really not,” He said miserably, shaking his head. “I thought it would be enough to just be playing again, but I wanted to win, I really did.”

“We all did,” I said, shaking my hair out of my face. “But maybe we should not talk about it.”

“Good idea.”

The rest of the walk to our cars was spent in sad, yet comfortable silence. Lux and I bid goodbye to Jordan, watching him stroll to his truck with his hands in his pockets. We waited until he had zoomed away, his headlights fading in the stormy night.

She spoke after a few moments. “Kris, I--”

“Don’t.” I held a hand up to stop her. “I meant what I said. I do not want to talk about the game.”

She paused, exhaling. We stood there in silence, a frigid sleet falling over us faintly.

“Kris,” She began again. “I think you should come over.”

Oh. We didn’t have a game the next day, or practice. I still found myself hesitating. “Are you--?”

“I don’t think you should be alone right now. Nobody should, not after that.” She pointed to my Range Rover. “Follow me.”

I did as I was told, both of us driving slow, watching for black ice. When we finally arrived at her tiny little rental house, I was exhausted, mentally and physically. All the emotions drained out of me and I just wanted to sleep. She knew, saw how my eyes were having a hard time staying open and my shoulders hung heavy with defeat. She helped me inside, and I stumbled to her couch. She wrestled my shoes and my coat off, before covering me with a blanket and pressing a kiss to my forehead.

“Goodnight Kris.”

“Wait.” I grabbed her wrist, stopping her from leaving. “Stay.”

“I…”

“Please.”

She bit her lip.

Afraid that I was going to cry again for the second time in two days, I let go of her, suddenly shaking my head. “Never mind. If you don’t want to, it is fine.”

Her eyes glittered in the half-light. She kicked off her shoes, and pulled off her jacket, leaving it on the floor. “Move over.”

She climbed onto the couch beside me. There was hardly any room for the two of us, as I probably took up room enough for two people, but she was petite and I folded her into my arms, hugging her to my chest. She smelled like vanilla and rain, and I was reminded all at once of the loss, felt it sting into my heart like it was happening all over again.

I shuddered, and two tears escaped. Slowly, she turned in my arms so that she was facing me. As carefully as she could, she reached up and wiped my tears off my face. I knew I looked horrible, face scrunched with the effort of trying to keep more from escaping, my nose red from the cold and dripping, but she didn’t care. Her eyes were just as moist.

I’d only ever cried in front of someone twice before. Once was in front of my mother, after the first game in which I’d been hit. I had been a kid, barely six or seven years old. She’d held me and told me it was okay, because she was my mother, and that was her job.

The second time was you. The girl I had thought I was in love with--the sweetest redhead I’d ever met, the girl who had taken my virginity--had left me for someone else. You didn’t call me a pussy or a wimp, watching me from your bed across the room. Instead, you got up, crossed the room and sat down next to me. You put your arm around me and told me I would be okay, just like my mom had so many years before. You told me I would find someone better. I hadn’t believed you then, and it had been hard enough just breaking down in front of you because guys don’t do that, especially tough hockey players. I was always grateful to you for that.

Those were the only two times. Even when you died, I cried alone. Even when we lost the Stanley Cup, so soon after what had happened to you, I stayed in my house and moped through every room, crying when I could muster the energy. Even when we won the Cup, I cried happy tears in the bathroom of the Mellon, wishing you could’ve been there with me.

This was the third time I had cried in front of someone; the first time I cried in front of a girl.

“Shhh.” She leaned forward, kissing each of my cheeks where the tears had fallen. She ran her hands through my hair, brushing it back from my face. Then she gently kissed my lips, her breath sweet and warm and all around me. “Go to sleep now, Kris.”

I had no choice but to do what she said. We fell asleep, tangled in each other on her couch. I woke every few hours, if only to remind myself that she was real, that she was here in my arms and that there was still hope for the two of us, if nothing else.