The Light That Wraps You

The thing about dreams is that they are not private. Anyone can show up at any time, just like you.

I remember something Peter once told me, about a story he had read in college. It was a Sumerian epic about a hero who was part god. His mother, a goddess, foresaw the coming of a man who would be his best friend. This prophecy came true, and when his friend arrived, they fought alongside each other and loved one another as brothers. Until the friend died. Now, the Sumerians believed in four different worlds: the animal world, the human world, the world of dreams, and the realm of the gods. When one died, their soul would reside in the realm of the gods. Well, the hero refused to let that slide. He was determined to go after his best friend and bring him back to the human world so they could be together again.

But Peter told me that despite not being part god, we humans could do the same thing.

“How?” I asked, smiling. I had been young and entertained by this story, as magical and fanciful as it seemed.

“Well, the halfway point between the world of humans and the world of the gods was the world of dreams. So if you ever dream about someone you’ve lost, chances are they’ve crossed the bridge between life and death to get here to talk to you.”

I didn’t believe this. I thought it was nonsense. After all, Peter and I were sitting in a pub after an extremely long double shift, and for all I knew, he was making those things up after a couple of beers. Naturally, I thought he was more than a little tired.

Now however, with you standing beside me in TD Garden, holding a gargoyle, I found it completely believable.

You looked wonderful. Just standing there in front of me, a half-smile on your face, you looked better than anything I could have possibly conceived. You were wearing the same clothes you had worn on the day you were drafted, a Canucks jersey proudly displayed over your crisp white shirt. Your hair was shorter, though, neatly combed away from your face. I almost cried just looking at you.

“What are you doing here?” I asked. My voice seemed wispy and unclear, like a radio tuning in and out.

You looked around, down at yourself, at your hand. “A better question is, why am I holding this gargoyle?” You laughed suddenly, and it echoed for a long time. “This is a very strange dream, Lucinda.”

“You called me Lucinda.” I frowned.

“Well, yes. It is your name. Charlene told me. She comes to see me every weekend, and she mentioned you.” You pointed to my chest with the gargoyle figurine. “You have something of mine. Do you like it?”

I placed my hand against my chest, feeling your heart beating rapidly within. “I love it.”

“And how does it work for you?”

“It’s perfect. A little too big, but otherwise, perfect.” I cleared my throat, trying so hard not to cry. Sadness and hope were welling within me, and any moment they would overflow. “Do you…do you miss it?”

“Being alive? Or my heart?”

“Both.”

“I don’t miss my heart. It was never mine anyway; it was Charlene’s.” You chuckled, almost to yourself and tossed the gargoyle back and forth between your hands. “It’s kinda funny. It was mine, but I gave it to her. Then I technically gave it to you, and you gave it Kris, but mine has really been his all along as well.” I must’ve looked confused because you laughed, louder this time. “For every person you love, a piece of your heart is theirs. It’s always been true, and it always will be.”

“What about being alive?”

“Oh, I miss it more than…anything! I miss my girl. I miss my family, and Kris as well.” Your face fell a fraction, your smile barely dimming. “I made them all some promises that I could not keep.”

“That wasn’t your fault, though.”

Your smile changed, turned rueful. “I didn’t wear a helmet.”

“Yes, but--”

“Lucinda, you are a medical woman. You yourself know the value of a helmet. Do you and your colleagues not say when you stumble upon an accident victim that if they had worn a helmet, they might have lived?”

I grudgingly nodded.

“So, you see? My fault. It is all right, though. I am not bitter or angry. I am mostly kind of sad. I don’t like hearing Charlene cry all the time and Kris, he is just a mess. I want them to be happy. I want them to remember me, but I want them to make the most of what they have.” You shrugged. “After all, I’m living proof that it can all vanish in the blink of an eye. Or…not-so-living proof.”

I shook my head. “How can you joke about this?”

“I’m just a funny guy, I guess.” You shrugged and pointed at me again. “Listen, I know it is hard, but I want them to know about you and about what we've shared.”

Finally, we were getting somewhere. “Is that why I’m here? To help you move on?”

You smiled gently. “Don’t you worry about my family, Lucinda. You worry about you and that hopeless best friend of mine. You worry about my heart. Take good care of it, and Kris. He needs you.”

“Tell me what to do,” I begged. “I feel as if I have ruined everything and I’m not brave enough to tell him about you. Please, tell me how to fix this.”

“I can’t do that.” You gestured to yourself. “Do I look like a genie? No, Lucinda. I’m just Luc. I’m just gone.”

“But you’re not! You’re still here, with me and Kris and everyone who remembers you.”

Your eyes sparkled. “Ah. Now we are making progress. Did you hear yourself just now? Good. Listen to those words, Lucinda. Replay them to yourself at night. I am not gone. I will never be gone; you said so yourself. You carry me with you, inside you, around you; you all do. And also, please stop blaming yourself.” You rolled your eyes in exasperation. “You did not kill me. In actuality, you asked me for a gift without saying anything at all--and I answered. That’s all.”

“But--”

“No buts! That’s the end, Lux.”

I smiled suddenly. “You called me Lux.”

“I did. It’s what Kris calls you. He talks about you, too.”

“What does he say?”

You waggled a finger at me. “He is my best friend. I won’t betray his trust like that.” You skated in a whimsical circle and I watched, suddenly remembering where we were. I looked around, at all the empty seats and the smooth ice.

“Why are we in Boston?”

“Are we? I thought this looked familiar.” You looked up at the ceiling. “Hm. It looks different than I remember.” You gestured to me. “Here, toss me that.”

I looked down. I was holding a hockey stick. I frowned. Where had that come from?

You, ever the mind reader, laughed once more. “It’s a dream. These things happen. Here, I’ll trade you for this!” You held up the gargoyle.

I tossed you the stick. You caught it in one hand, and your face lit up. “Feels good,” You murmured, your fingers closing around the stick with a familiarity that made me sick and pleased all at once. “Think fast!”

The gargoyle flew through the air. I reached out, felt the rough stone connect with my palm. It was the one that Kris had bought me for Christmas. I looked up to ask you where you had possibly gotten it, but the moment my fingers closed around it, the dream snapped, bursting like a bubble.

I opened my eyes to the sound of my phone ringing. I managed to roll over and answer it before it switched to my voicemail. The dream was already starting to fade; I wanted to cling to it, but it would be like trying to catch smoke.

I held the phone to my ear. “Hello?”

“Sunshine!” I immediately winced, recognizing Peter from hundreds of miles away.

“Peter!” I cleared my throat and sat up in bed, running a hand through my tangled hair. It was just after seven in the morning, Pittsburgh time. The guys had a game against the Bruins that night, and I figured that was what had sparked the early phone call.

“My god, where the hell have you been? I thought you’d died over there. Is it so goddamn difficult to pick up the phone once in a while? Ugh,” He scoffed. “I feel like a cheap one-night stand.”

I laughed, in spite of myself. “You are ridiculous. How are you?”

I tried very hard to pay attention, but I was only half-listening as he discussed who had pulled off an impossible surgery, and which nurses had had their babies. I had never been the type to ignore and simply wait for my turn to speak; I normally listened and soaked in as much as I could. That was the way to truly know people. But we hadn’t spoken in a very long time and I was eager to confide in him and get his opinion on everything that had happened since I had left. I was practically squirming by the time he finished.

“Anyway! Enough about us cretins. How are you, Sunshine? How is the Steel City treating you?”

“Well, the people here are nicer…”

“Ouch. Shot through the heart.” He laughed. “Really, though. You sound a little down. You miss your ol’ pal Loudmouth Lowe?”

“Peter, I--I--” My words stuck in my throat, and I coughed.

“Whoa. Suddenly your sunshine feels a little dim, even from this distance,” He replied seriously. “Are you all right, Lux? There isn’t a problem, is there? Because some of your Bruin buddies have asked after you and I’m sure they’re already settled into their hotel and everything so it’d be no problem to--”

“I am in love.”

Peter paused. “Somehow,” he said, “I get the feeling you’re not happy about this.”

“I was. I mean, I am. But Kris--”

“Kris? Is that the lucky fellow?”

“His name is Kris Letang. He’s defenseman for the Penguins.”

“Yikes. Tyler Seguin isn’t going to be happy about that. You know he has a crush on you, right? Poor kid, this is going to devastate him when he finds out tonight--”

“Peter, will you shut up for just a moment?”

He did, sort of. “That’s not all, is it?”

“No.”

“Is he with someone? Married, kids, gay?”

I almost laughed at that. “No, it’s worse. His best friend…was Luc Bourdon.” It was still so painful to say, that awful past tense. I couldn’t imagine how it was for Kris.

Peter finally fell completely and utterly silent. I could barely hear him breathing on the other line, the only indication that he was still there at all. In the background, I could hear the shouting of paramedics and the loud, obnoxious squeaking of tennis shoes, and that only made me feel even worse. For the first time in my life, I wondered what everyone else did: why the hell did I work in a hospital?

Finally, he blew out a breath, making the phone crackle. “Wow. I…don’t know what to say. What’re you gonna do, Sunshine?”

“Throw myself off one of the city’s many bridges, no doubt.” I chuckled weakly. “That’s why I’m so glad you called. Not to make this all about me, but I need your advice.”

“Whew. This is a little bit above my pay grade. Want me to transfer you to the Chief?”

It was nice that the two of us could still joke like we always had, but this wasn’t the time for it. “Peter,” I said softly. “Please. I’m losing my mind.”

“I can’t tell you what to do. You’re a grown woman, even if you still feel like a bratty kid sister to me.” I laughed, swiping a hand over my face as he went on. “No, I’m kidding. You’re the most wonderful woman I’ve ever met, Lux, and you deserve this more than anything. Not the confusion, not the fear, but the love. Tell me something.”

“Of course.”

“Is he good to you?”

“Very.” I had a feeling that if I jumped off this cliff into the unknown with him, he would only get better with time.

“And does he love you?”

“Yes.” For perhaps the first time, I realized it, fully realized it with stunning clarity. He didn’t need to say it because I knew it. Even when I thought maybe it was just you, just leftover emotions from your life clinging to a heart that had been given to me, I still knew deep inside of myself that it wasn’t true, that it was me too. I thought of what I had told Sid the night he'd been hit again: "Sometimes things happen, things we can't explain." That was Kris and I. It was impossible, almost ridiculous, but it was happening nonetheless. My head spun. This was the moment that Vero had mentioned would hit me all at once, and as pieces of the dream came back to me, I realized you had been trying to tell me as well.

“Sainte merde,” I whispered. “He loves me.”

Peter laughed. “Just hit you, huh?”

I was shaking, my words coming out so fast that I would have been surprised if Peter could keep up with them. “It’s something I’ve always thought of, but never really believed. Coming here has led me to the inevitable conclusion, though, that it must be true.”

“What must be?”

“Faith,” I said. “That’s what this is. When heart tells you that something has to be true, even if there is no scientific proof. All these years, I have never understood it. My mother always spoke of, always told me to ‘have faith’. And even what Vero told me--”

“Who is Vero?” Peter wondered aloud.

“All of it, I have never fully grasped it until now. Oh my holy god, Peter. Kristopher Letang loves me!” I laughed. “And I love him!” I suddenly did a somersault in bed, rolling around, tangling myself in the sheets. I couldn’t help it. It felt as if I was Atlas, the man who held the world, and suddenly someone had come along and taken the burden from me. Our heart felt light, and I wanted to dance and sing and shout because this was real and true and finally happening to me!

“Does he know?”

“Yes, of course he--” I stopped short. My jubilation crashed down a mountain like an avalanche. “Wait. No. I've never told him.”

“Then you should. And I don't just mean that you love him."

My view of the world zoomed out, like I was staring down the wrong end of a telescope. Everything felt so far away but the fear, that was huge. “I’m scared,” I whispered, my smile gone.

“Of course you are. Telling someone you love them by itself is scary as shit. But having to tell them that you have their best friend’s heart? Colossal. Life-ending. But you can do it, Sunshine.”

“How do you know?”

“Because you’re alive. Call me crazy, but I have a feeling there’s a reason for that. Maybe this is it. Maybe this is what you were born to do.”

“What? Ruin Kris’ life?”

“Now, that’s not fair. You have no way of knowing that’ll happen. Sure, he’ll be sad and as confused as you are, but if he loves you, he’ll always find his way back to you.”

God, I hoped that was true. “What was I born to do, then?”

“Live for Luc. Do what he couldn’t, and make sure everyone remembers him. Make sure they understand how much he loved those closest to him.”

The dream arrived back in my head in its entirety with startling clarity. All of your words shot through my mind like a blazing arrow, lighting the way for me to follow. I couldn’t help it; I started crying. “But I’m not him. I can never be him.”

“You’re right. You can’t replace him. But you’re alive, and his heart is still beating. Trust me, that’ll be good enough for them.”

“Do you promise?”

“No. Nobody can promise that, Sunshine. But I hope it all works out for you in the end because I physically need to see you happy, or I will throw myself off a bridge. I love you, kiddo, whether you like it or not. You hear me?”

“Yes,” I sobbed, one hand over my face. “I love you too, Peter. Thank you f-for everything.”

“Don’t cry, now. Where’s that sunny babydoll that everyone misses back here in the big B?”

“I’m not sure.” I hiccupped, wiping my face off with my sleeve. “I haven’t seen her in a while. I’ll let you know if she ever shows up again.”

“You better. She owes me fifty bucks and an autograph from Sidney Crosby.”

I managed to laugh before we hung up. I stayed there in bed, holding my head in my hands for a long time afterwards. Peter was right, of course. I needed to tell Kris. I needed to tell him everything. I bit my lip, worrying my skin between my teeth. I wasn’t ready, I knew that. But if I wasn’t ready now, when would I be? When it was too late and I lost him forever?

I stood up, dropping my cell phone onto the bedside table and wrapping my arms around myself. Tonight. I would do it tonight after the game. Then we would have all the time in the world to figure everything out.

I quickly sent out a silent prayer to you, a wordless plea that I hoped found you in the far reaches of the universe: Please, Luc. Please let everything work out for Kris and I. I need him just like I needed you.



I eyed the thermometer in my hand. “It’s not going to happen, Arron.”

“Lux, please. I have to play this game!”

“You have a fever! I’m amazed you even came to the rink thinking you could play. Just by being here, you’re spreading germs.” Asham’s face fell, and I quickly laid a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, but that’s the truth. With Sid out, we can’t take any chances. You are a very necessary asset, and we need you to be healthy. So please, go home and get some rest for me, okay?”

Asham hung his head, his long, dark hair falling into his face. “Okay.”

“Here.” I handed him a bottle of vitamins. “Take one of these a day until you start to feel better. Get plenty of rest and drink lots of liquids. I promise, you’ll be back here on the ice in no time.”

“All right.”

I cleaned off the thermometer with an alcohol wipe before putting it away. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

Asham’s head snapped back up. “What?”

I snapped my gloves off, throwing them in the trash. “Arron, you have a fever of one hundred degrees and you’re already dehydrated. I am not going to take the chance that you will be driving home and pass out at the wheel. I am driving you home, and I’ll catch a cab back.” I checked the watch on my wrist. “I won't miss very much. Now, come along.”

He looked equal parts dazed and amazed as I bundled him up in his coat and scarf and led him outside to the freezing staff parking lot. He led me to where his car was parked, and I jumped into the driver’s seat. The entire way to his house I regaled him with the time that I myself had gone to work with a fever (and had regretted it later). I tucked him into bed, brought him a glass of orange juice, his vitamins, a box of tissues, and the remote, and was calling a cab by the time the puck dropped.

By the time I arrived back at Consol, the first period had just ended. The teams were making their way back into the dressing rooms for the first intermission, and I ran into one of them on my way back to my exam room.

Patrice Bergeron was the first to see me. He raised his head at the sound of footsteps, and his dark eyes lit with recognition. He stopped right where he was in the middle of the corridor, causing all of his teammates behind him to stop as well.

He laughed. “Eh bien, regardez ce que le chat traîné dans!”

I smiled. “On dirait que je suis sur le mauvais côté de la Consol!” I turned, pretending to go, but all of the guys protested.

“Wait, don’t go!”

“Yeah, don’t leave us!”

Of course, I spun back around and ran over to talk to them. I hugged them all, kissing them on their cheeks, and asking them how they were. I asked Recchi how his kids were doing, and I joked around with Bergeron some more, poking fun at how he'd been playing though I hadn't seen any of the first period. Marchand and Seguin, two of the youngest guys on the team, came over and started bragging to me about all the fun they had been having without me and how they were planning on visiting me at Massachusetts General when I returned. "You better not mean on a stretcher," I warned them, and they cracked up.

Lucic was the only one I hadn't seen, and that changed moments later, when he ran behind me and scooped me up into a hug. I knew it was him all along, but I screamed for some effect.

“So how’s it been?” He asked, twirling me slightly and setting me back down.

“How has what been?”

“Oh, you know, cooling your heels in Pittsburgh.”

I slapped his arm playfully. “Don’t be mean. It just so happens that the guys here are incredibly nice.”

“What about us?”

“You? Nice?" I made a face, and everyone laughed some more.

I could only talk to them for a few minutes before Doug Houda stuck his head out to glare at them. I was sad to see them go, but I had taken up too much of their time as it was. As much as I would have loved to stay, to get to see them all and talk to them like I once had, the fact of the matter remained that this was work for all of us, and I had to return to my exam room.

“Tell Coach Julien hello from me, will you?” I asked Bergeron, walking backwards away from them.

“Only if you wish us good luck!”

“I can’t do that!” I called, but he was already gone. Laughing to myself, I walked all the way back to the exam room with my hands in my pockets.

I didn’t need to wish them luck. Though the second period started off good for the Pens with a goal by Rupp and one by Kris, things quickly spiraled out of control. Reckless penalties in the third gave the Bruins a chance to quickly tie it up, and then take the lead entirely once Fleury was pulled in a 4-2 defeat.

I felt sad yet happy at the same time. It was a horrible feeling, to be torn between the hardship of seeing new friends lose and the thrill of seeing your old friends succeed. I hated it. Why? I thought to myself as I pulled on my coat. Why did you have to get me into hockey? There is nothing worse than the pain and exaltation that this sport brings.

When I walked out of the exam room, my heart was in my throat. The night was over and it was time for me to spill my secrets. I was so, so nervous to speak with Kris. This was it for us. I thought immediately to the book I had been reading, and the legacy behind it. “Past the point of no return,” the Phantom said. “No backward glances, our games of make believe are at an end.”

Tonight would be the night that we either met in the middle or burned the bridge between us. I felt as if all the anticipation, all the wanting and the sadness, had been building up to this moment and we would finally be given a glimpse into the future to see where our lives would take us.

To say I was frightened was an understatement.

I had to look at it a certain way though, closing my physical eyes and opening my spiritual ones. I had gone through three open-heart surgeries in my young life. I had received a heart transplant. I had spent a majority of the time before that waiting to die. Maybe this wasn’t so scary. Maybe this was me just projecting and making it worse than it was.

But there was something different about physical pain and emotional pain. Physical pain I would heal from. The scar on my chest had once been a contusion, dark and red and horrible. It burned with every breath that I took, and my entire chest ached for months. Then I had started to heal, and over time, my skin had taken over and the color had faded to a pearly pink. It had stopped hurting.

Emotional pain was so much more than that. Even when I had been going through the aftermath of open heart surgery, there were pain medications for that. They would dull my senses to a fog, often enveloping me in sleep. There was nothing you could take to numb the feeling of heartbreak, and there was no way for you to just wait it out. It could last years, stretching on and on until I no longer remembered what it felt like to be happy and whole.

That was what I was afraid of. When I said that this could all very well end tonight, I was being serious. All I knew was that I didn’t want it to end more than anything.

Kris was waiting for me at my car in the parking lot. My heart stuttered at the sight of him. There was snow on his shoulders and in the long strands of his hair. As soon as I reached him, I put my hand out and brushed his hair back away from his face. I couldn’t help myself.

He reached up and grabbed my hand. “You saw your friends tonight.”

“I did.”

“Did they convince you to abandon us?”

I shook my head. “They didn’t even mention it, actually. Perhaps they realize how happy I am here.”

Kris blinked, surprised. After our last conversation, I’m sure it was a surprise for him to hear that. “You’re happy here?”

I nodded. “Right here.”

That seemed to validate something for him. With his other hand, he cupped my cheek. I leaned into his touch, closing my eyes. “Then stay.”

It would be so easy, I thought, letting all the logic fall away and thinking instead with your heart for once. I could call back to Massachusetts General, and request a transfer, maybe to UPMC once Dr. Burke returned. I could move in with Kris. I could see all the guys every day and go out to lunch with Vero on my off days. It would be wonderful, and so easy to just give in and let myself fall head over heels.

But there were still things I needed to do.

“Kris,” I said softly, opening my eyes. “I have things I need to tell you. Things that I’m ready to tell you. Can we go somewhere?”

He nodded. He had been waiting for this moment nearly as long as you and I had. “Come with me.”