The Light That Wraps You

Kris

I made it my personal mission to forget everything involving Lux. The only problem with that plan was its impossibility.

She was everywhere. I smelled vanilla, I thought of her. I closed my eyes and she sang to me in my dreams. I fed Simba, and I thought of Christmas. I looked towards her copy of The Gargoyle and the small stone carving I had given her sitting on the desk in my den, the one she had given back. My heart ached.

But I could lie, and I could pretend. I put on my game face each day, sticking it out through February, when everything seemed to be falling apart. Sid was still out, still experiencing symptoms, and Geno got hit in a game against Buffalo, tearing the knee that had been giving him so many problems for so long. Automatic six months, injured reserve. We were without our top guys, so the rest of us had to pick up the slack, and learn how to be a powerful force without them.

At the end of February, the organization traded Goose for a couple guys from Dallas -- James Neal, a focused forward on the rise, and Matt Niskanen, a gritty defenseman. They were supposed to give us depth going into the playoffs, but so late in the season, it was awkward to meet new additions to our team, and the two of them were wary. In the sense of playing hockey, we clicked well enough, but it was hard to do what the organization wanted us to when we barely knew them. We made it to the playoffs in April, but missing some critical players (such as Sid, Geno, and Cookie) it was more of a struggle then we thought it would be, playing against Tampa Bay’s top line of Martin St. Louis, Vinny Lecavalier, and Steven Stamkos. We went all the way to seven games, but things petered out for us. We lost our momentum and our energy, and the bottom line was they outplayed us. They took the series in a one goal shutout, and we just…went home.

I curled up on my couch after the last game, unable to sleep, Simba laying on my arm and purring. The lights were off, and the TV was on, but I wasn’t watching it. Alone in the dark without hockey to distract me, all I could think of was Lux. Where was she now? What was she doing? Was she thinking of me, had she seen the games, did she know?

I wanted so much to forget her, but suddenly in the middle of the night, I wanted her back more than anything. I didn’t know what to do, what to choose, what was right or wrong. Mostly, I just wanted to sleep.

Suddenly summer was stretching out ahead of me, ahead of all of us, and for the second time in my life, I had no idea what to do.

Build then the ship of death, for you must take
the longest journey, to oblivion.



Lux

There was nothing left for me to do but work. To make up for all the time I’d been gone, I threw myself into merciless double shifts, stopping only to pass out in the resident rooms in the hospital. Even then, I couldn’t escape the thoughts of Kris -- they followed me into dreams. If I worked even harder, going at two hundred miles an hour for forty-eight hour shifts, I could make myself so tired that I wouldn’t dream at all. I knew it wasn’t healthy, but it was what my heart needed to try and move on.

Not that moving on was easy. Everywhere I looked, there was hockey, as Boston crushed Montreal in a heated first round. Though it was hard for me, I kept my ears open, keeping up with the scores and how the playoffs were going. Despite the contusions that were still fresh from that last altercation with Kris, the other guys were still my friends, and I still wanted them to succeed, to make it, to at least win the Cup to maybe make up to them all the things I had ruined.

I was recording a sleeping patient’s vitals one day, when I heard a commotion outside. In the room across the hall, a couple of patients had the TV on, and they were watching the last few minutes of the seventh Pittsburgh/Tampa Bay game. I had spoken to them a few times when they learned that I had worked for the Penguins, but it was very painful for me. I knew they were fans, but it never occurred to me I would have to see another game. I stopped in the middle of the room, staring dead at the TV. The score was 1-0, Tampa, and there was less than a minute left.

“Hey, Doc. What’s up?”

“Oh god,” I murmured, my heart jumping into my throat.

“Doc?”

The time ran out right before my eyes. The game ended, with the Lightning jumping all over each other, screaming and laughing as Pittsburgh slowly filed off their own ice. I dropped my clipboard.

“Can I have the remote?” One of the patients nodded and handed it to me.

“And that is it -- Tampa Bay has taken the series. They will be going on to the second round, to face--”

“Hey, you okay?”

I switched the TV off. I didn’t want to hear anymore. The patients groaned and complained, but I didn’t care. Clenching the remote tight enough in my hand to break it, I swept out of the room. I left my clipboard, left my original patient, left everything that had once been enough for me. I couldn’t breathe.

I burst through the front doors to the hospital, gulping in breaths of sultry metallic air. It was hot outside, an early summer in the city, but I just felt cold all over. I threw the remote; it landed in a bush. Sitting down on a bench, I balled my fists up and pressed them to my eyes as I began to cry.

It had been months, and still, I wondered every day -- was Kris thinking of me? Or did he just completely move on, leaving me and my problems behind? It made me sick and sad, how much I wanted him to still be thinking of me, but worse even than that was how he must be feeling, how all of them must be feeling.

More than anything, I wanted to call them. I wanted to hear Sid’s voice, or Fleury’s, or Max’s, or Jordan’s, or Craig’s, or Tyler’s, any of them. But most of all, I wanted to hear from Kris. I wanted to know that he was okay, that he was going to be okay, that we were all going to be okay, that we would get through this even though it felt impossible.

Already our bodies are fallen, bruised, badly bruised,
already our souls are oozing through the exit
of the cruel bruise.



Kris

“Hey Kris, grab me a beer, will you?”

I glanced over my shoulder at Max and Flower. They were both in Flower’s pool, splashing each other like they were still kids in school. Vero was walking towards us, carrying a bowl of dip. She set it on the table where I was standing and rolled her eyes at the two of them.

“I’ll get it, don’t worry.”

“It’s no problem, I don’t mind.”

Vero shook a finger at me. “Don’t let them boss you around. They’re just being pushy today because everything is a competition with them. They’ll probably stop speaking in an hour, and then be friends again by the time we have dinner.”

I smiled. Ever since the team been knocked from the playoffs, we’d had a lot of free time to just hang out, relax, and try to forget that there were other teams playing while we sat at home. At first, nobody wanted to do anything, but after a long enough while, there was nothing to do but pick ourselves back up and keep on going.

“So how are you?” Vero asked, spooning up some dip with a chip. From behind us, Flower yelled something in French; his words were followed by a loud splash and a curse from Max.

I shrugged. “Surviving.”

She nodded, offering me some chips. I took a handful as something to do, because I could feel the inevitable bout of questions that would come next. We hadn’t really talked at all about everything, but if anyone was going to bring it up, I knew it was her. I decided to make it easier on her.

“I’m fine, Vero. Everything’s fine.”

She surveyed my face, her dark eyes taking me in. “I don’t think you are, Kris. I know you wish everything was fine, but--”

“Don’t.”

“Kris, you need to talk about this with someone. You can’t just forget about her, and I know you’ve been trying. We all do.”

“What can I do? There’s nothing left. Nothing.” I suddenly wasn’t hungry, but I crunched on the chips anyway, so that way I wouldn’t have to answer her anymore.

“Nothing at all?”

Liar, my mind crooned. There’s everything. A barrage of images hit me, flashing behind my eyes. Her smile, her eyes, her hair, the sight of snow on her shoulders, her hand in mine, her skin beneath me, the vanilla scent that still clung to my sheets and pillows, no matter how many times I washed them. I couldn’t escape her, and even though I would never admit it to Vero, I wondered if I still wanted to.

Vero didn’t wait for an answer, because a torrent of water suddenly hit her in the side. She shrieked, spinning around and glaring, her hair dripping. “Maxime!”

“Sorry! I meant to hit Kris. I’m still waiting on my beer!”

Vero reached behind her and grabbed a beer, throwing it at them. “Here, take your stupid beer!”

Max and Fleury jostled each other, but Fleury was taller, and he managed to snatch it out of the air. “Nice save,” Max said with a grin, bumping Flower’s shoulder. “Now hand it over.” They began wrestling over the beer.

Vero giggled as she watched them, wringing out her hair with a paper towel. “Some things never change, do they?”

And sometimes they do. “I’m going swimming.”

Naturally, the moment I got in the pool, Max and Fleury calmed down. They passed the beer back and forth, and I was astonished to see they were actually sharing. When I waded over to where they were leaning against the side of the pool, Max offered it to me without a word. The phone rang from inside the house, and Vero ran in to answer it, her flip-flops slapping the heels of her feet.

None of us spoke for a long time.

“Remember when we had the Cup in here?” Max suddenly started. Flower laughed, already knowing how that story was going to end. My lips twitched, as I remembered getting it completely soaked.

“At least we didn’t drop it,” I remarked.

There was a pause, and then all three of us said, “Like Sid.” That set the two of them off and I smiled for real this time.

Too soon, the laughter faded. “Man,” Flower said, shaking his head. “Where did we go wrong?”

I knew he was talking about the playoffs, but all I could think of was Lux. Was it my fault? Was it hers? Or maybe, if I even dared to think it, it was you. I didn’t want to point the blame on anyone, but there had to be some cause for our deterioration. I had just needed some time, but now… Time had passed, and where there should have been animosity or bitterness, there was just a lonely feeling, the empty space where your shared heart fit perfectly with mine.

If I looked at the things that made her Lucinda Girard, like the wide blue-gray eyes, the shining gold hair that I always longed to run my fingers through, the soft humor, the melodious laughter, the practical nature, the determination, the strength, the desire to do what was right, to be good, I realized with sudden clarity that it was those things that drawn me towards her. Her physical heart had nothing to do with it. It wasn’t you, not at all. Why it had taken me months to understand it, I’d never know. But now that I knew, what was there for me to do? What if she had already forgotten me?

“Someone’s deep in thought,” Max said, nudging me in the side. “You okay?”

The first step would probably be to stop lying to myself and everyone else. “No, not really.”

He nodded like he understood. “Lux again?”

“Yeah. I just… I don’t know what to do.”

“Kris,” Fleury interrupted. “Do you love her?”

“Yes.”

“Are you in love with her?”

Despite everything, yes. There was nobody else I could see myself with. She was the first person I thought of every morning, and the last face to fill my mind at night. She consumed every inch of me, and all I wanted was for her to be mine again. Never before had I believed in something as strong as what I felt for her, and what she felt for me, as impossible as it should have been. I believed that you had done this, not to spite me, not for any cruel purpose, but to heal us both. Your death had set in motion a chain of events that led to her life, to our love. Your death had been given purpose, and when I thought of it, that made the absence of you hurt less.

I suddenly heard your voice in my head. “You’re finally getting it, mon ami. Love her. Live your life. Be happy.”

I wanted to erase her from my life, but she was the last thing that made me feel happy, and I couldn’t just get rid of that. As much as she had lied to me and hurt me, didn’t that count for something? Her heart was mine and mine was hers before either of us knew it, and if you were intertwined in there, somewhere in the middle, then so be it.

Max and Flower were both looking at me intently. “She made you better. Maybe you didn’t know it then, but she healed some part of you,” Max said, as if he had read my mind.

“I know that. I know it now.” Dawn was rising over my emotions, bringing the truth to light. Lux. Latin, for light. Post tenebras spero lucem. This was what everything was about, wasn’t it? This was that thing that people were always searching for, endlessly wandering, drinking but ever-parched, eating but ever-starving, sleeping but never resting. This was the driving force behind all life. This was it.

“You know what you have to do, right?”

After darkness, I hope for light.

Draining the last of the beer, I handed the empty bottle to Max and pulled myself out of the pool.

Already the dark and endless ocean of the end
is washing in through the breaches of our wounds,
Already the flood is upon us.



Lux

“Okay, so there are six stitches,” I said, stripping off my rubber gloves. “You will need to come back in a week so I can remove them.”

The kid, a fifteen-year-old named Adam, was looking down at his arm in wonder. “Do you have to?”

I laughed. “Of course I have to!”

“Well, they just look so cool…”

I rolled my eyes good-naturedly. “Getting hurt is not cool. After I take your stitches out, I don’t want to see you in here ever again, all right? Be careful with your skateboard.”

“But I thought chicks loved scars?”

I do. Or, I thought I did. Now, I wasn’t so sure. Maybe only the saddest, secretive of girls liked scars. Maybe it distracted them from their own pain, from the burdens they themselves shouldered every day, the things they tried to forget, the things they tried to hide. Girls like me.

“Be that as it may,” I said, shaking a finger at him. “You do need to be more careful. Broken bones are not fun. Tell your mom I said to bring you back next week, and I will personally remove them. Ask for Dr. Girard. Okay?”

“Okay. Thanks, Doc!” He ran towards the waiting room, nearly bowling into a nurse wheeling a cart of supplies. She stopped short, and he swerved around her. I laughed, shaking my head. He reminded me of Jordan, so carefree and exuberant, running around wildly with his floppy blond hair and his bright smile. Your heart panged.

“Dr. Girard!” A voice boomed across the clinic, and I looked up. Peter was standing near the entrance. He waved me over with a smile.

“Hi Peter.”

“Hey Sunshine. Got time for lunch?”

“Sure.”

The two of us took the elevator to the cafeteria, with Peter chatting animatedly about the patient he had just spoken with. I nodded along, barely listening. Why had I thought of Jordan? I spent every day trying so hard to push Pittsburgh away from the forefront of my mind, trying to focus and go back to the work I had loved so much before. Now, it was all I could do to get through another day without thinking of Kris and the way he’d held me, the sound of his adorable laugh, and the way his lips felt pressed to mine. Every square inch of me yearned to have him back in my life, but I wasn’t sure if that was possible anymore.

Not once had he called me. But then again, I’d been too scared to call him too.

“You’re miles away, aren’t you?”

About six hundred miles away, yes. I blushed, caught in the act. “Oh, I’m sorry, Peter. I’m just tired.”

“You pulling a double?”

I nodded. “To make up for being gone. The hours are good. They keep my mind off of…things.”

“Or they would, if you weren’t just going through the motions.” He handed me a tray and then grabbed one for himself, before we got in line.

“What are you talking about? I’m fine.”

“You can say that as much as you want, Sunshine, but we both know it’s not true. You don’t even want to be here.”

I frowned. “At work?”

“No, in Boston.”

I grabbed a sandwich and a bottle of water. “Why wouldn’t I want to be here?”

He gave me a knowing look. “Are we really going to play this runaround game, Lux?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You are swimming in a sea of denial, my dear. Come on, let’s sit.” I followed him to a table, and he dug into his pasta. I pulled the plastic off my sandwich but suddenly I wasn’t very hungry. I took a bite out of it anyway; it had been hours since I’d last eaten, and I needed the energy to finish my shift.

“Lux, why are you doing this to yourself?”

“Doing what?”

He sighed laboriously. “You’re doing it again. Why are you torturing yourself? You’re avoiding everyone. You’re always hiding in the damn clinic, doing suture work when you should be upstairs being your usual talented self.”

“I just needed a break, that’s all. I’m just so tired all the time that I--”

“You’re not tired, you’re depressed. Why don’t you pick up the phone, e-mail him, something? You heard about the team, right?”

I frowned. “Of course I heard about the team. How could I not?”

“So you know that suddenly he has a long, eventless summer ahead of him. What better way to cheer him up then fly back to Pittsburgh and--”

“No.”

Peter quieted, looking down at his plate. “I’m just trying to help you,” he said softly.

“I know. But this is so much tougher than you realize. This isn’t just Kris and I, it’s--”

“Now that’s where I think you’re wrong,” Peter interrupted, pointing at me with his fork. “I think you and Kris are both making this way more complicated than it needs to be. You needed time, he needed time, and now it’s time for you to at least do something.” I tried to protest, but he cut me off. “Lucinda, you love him. There is at least a chance that he still loves you. Why would you pass that up?”

The answer crawled up my throat before I could stop it. “Because I’m scared.”

Peter gazed at me with a long, even look. “Do you know what one of the Penguins’ mottos is?”

I shook my head. “‘It’s a great day for hockey’?” I remembered it from outside the dressing room, painted on the wall. “How do you even know?”

He grinned quickly. “I’ve been doing my homework. Anyway, that’s not the one I’m talking about. The one I mean is different.”

“So what is it?”

“‘Nothing worth winning ever came easy’. Anything worth having will always be a struggle, Lux. That’s life.”

The idea that I might see Kris again was painful; my heart swooped with longing. Just the thought of it was almost too much for my heart--

I paused, mid-thought. My heart. Never, in the few years that I’d had it, had I called it my heart. But… it was, wasn’t it? You had given it to me, perhaps unknowingly at first, but it was mine now. It was Kris’, and yours, but it was also mine, something I had forgotten for too long.

“You’re thinking.”

“I am thinking. I’m thinking that maybe--” My cell phone rang from in my pocket. I shouldn’t have even had it, but since I’d been spending most of my time in the clinic, there was no one to scold me for it. I pulled it out, glancing at the caller ID.

“Claude Julien,” I answered, mustering as much of a smile as I could. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Dr. Girard! It’s so great to have you back in the city. How have you been?”

“I’ve been wonderful. And yourself?” Peter made a face at that, but didn’t say anything.

“Stressed.” He laughed. “It’s the way of the playoffs, I suppose. Anyway, some of those boys have been asking after you. We’ve got a game tonight against Philadelphia, and we’re all interested to know if you’d like to attend.”

“On the job, or--”

“No, not at all! You’re purely a guest. You can bring along someone else if you’d like to, as well. Think of it as a welcome home present.”

“Oh. Well...thank you?"

“Your tickets will be at will call. Have a good afternoon!”

I hung up with a shake of my head. “Well that was odd.”

“Hockey calling you back?”

I nodded. “The Bruins left me tickets as a welcome home gift. But I really don’t think I should go, though. What if--”

“Lux, if you don’t go, I will personally ask the Chief to fire you. Take a night off, do some soul-searching.”

“At a hockey game?”

“Hey. You know it’s possible. Hockey is a part of you now, whether you’ve realized it or not. I think it might be the only place you’ll figure things out.”

Maybe Peter was right. I had been working myself into the ground, making sure I was too tired to think of Kris and the guys, forcing them out of my life. Maybe what I needed was a night of solidarity with myself. Maybe the chill of a hockey rink would clear my head.

“Fine. I’ll go. But you’re coming with me!”

Peter grinned. “Sunshine, I thought you’d never ask.”

And die the death, the long and painful death
that lies between the old self and the new.



Kris

I can’t believe I’m doing this.

“Do you have everything?” Max asked, gesturing. “Keys, wallet, phone, ticket, condoms?” I glared at him and he shrugged. “What? They’re important.”

I wasn’t even thinking about sex right now. I just wanted to see Lux; sex was the furthest thing from my mind. Well, maybe not the furthest, but it was pretty far down on my list of priorities. First thing, I needed to get to Boston. The flight would take about two hours, but even that was two hours too long.

“What’s in there, anyway?” Max pointed at the backpack I was holding.

I handed it to him so he could look inside. There were all of my things, the ones he’d listed off (minus the condoms) but there was also a large hardback book, and a small statue wrapped in bubble wrap. Max pulled out the statue, holding it up so he could see it more clearly through the plastic.

“What is it?”

“Something I should have given her a long time ago.” Because I know what it means now.

Hurried footsteps approached. Both Max and I turned. Sid was standing there, not even winded, though it appeared as though he had run all the way from the parking lot to our terminal. “Flower just called me -- you’re going after her?”

I nodded.

He grinned. “What took you so long?”

Max laughed as he put the statue back in the backpack and handed it to me. “That’s what I wanna know!”

“Both of you, shut up.” I paced in front of them, rubbing my hands together. “Is this real?”

“Yep.”

“Without a doubt.”

“Do I have a chance?”

Max’s face turned surprisingly serious. “If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be here right now.”

He had a point. I watched as Sid rooted around in his pocket, before pulling out a folded piece of paper. He waved it at the two of us. “I’m coming with you.”

“But--”

“Hey, I know where she lives, where she works. Or did you forget that I drove all of her stuff to her place when she left?” He shoved the ticket back in his pocket. “You need me.”

A monotonous voice suddenly droned the loudspeaker, announcing our flight was boarding. “Fine,” I said, my heart leaping into my throat. “Then let’s go.”

“Good luck, mon ami. I have a feeling you’ll need it.” Sid and I walked away, and Max called out after us. “Kid, keep an eye on him! Make sure he does what he needs to!”

Sid clapped me on the shoulder. “I will. Trust me.”

I did. More than anything, I trusted Sid to be there for me, to get me through this, because in a way, he knew. Maybe he’d always known, but I couldn’t fault him for that. Right now, I just needed him to remind me that I wasn’t crazy, that this could all work out for the better.

“Ready?”

I didn’t answer. Instead, I handed my ticket to the woman waiting with her hand extended, and boarded the flight.



Lux

I can’t believe I’m doing this.

“Hurry up, Sunshine!” Peter called from his truck, parked at the curb in front of my apartment building. “If I miss the puck drop of my first hockey game, I’m going to kiiiiiiiill you!” He turned up the radio, and I realized he was singing his death threat along to the tune of Bon Jovi’s “Livin’ On A Prayer”.

I rolled my eyes, hurrying into my building and taking the stairs two at a time. I sprinted down the hall, clutching my purse, before stopping short in front of my door. I looked down.

There was a book leaning against the door. I grabbed it and held it up so I could see what it was. When I read the title, I nearly dropped it.

At first, I hadn’t been able to read any of the books Kris had given me for Christmas. I couldn’t even put them on a shelf; I just let them sit there in their box, growing sadder and sadder each day. When I finally resolved to move past this, I opened one and couldn’t stop reading. I was moving through them, devouring them whole like I had never read them before. Too late I noticed one was missing.

Now, I was holding it in my hands. The Gargoyle, my favorite. The cover was more worn than it had been when I’d gone to Pittsburgh, but it was still beautiful. I opened it to a random page, where a sentence jumped out at me.

“My last heart has always been for you, so I need you to prepare.”

Raising the book to my face, I inhaled the papery scent of pages, made sweet by a dash of vanilla and something else that I couldn’t place, something that smelled so wonderful and familiar that I smiled immediately. I unlocked my door and took it inside, setting it down gently on the bookshelf beside all the others. If I thought about it, this was the book that started it all.

I frowned as I set my purse down and walked to my bedroom, shedding my scrubs as I did. I pulled on a pair of jeans and a Boston t-shirt that the team had given me when I first started volunteering with them. Pulling my hair up into its usual bun, I traded my work shoes for some sneakers, and went back out to grab my purse again.

I couldn’t help looking at the book, sitting there on the shelf.

If the book was at my door, then didn’t that mean that…

Peter honked his truck below, and I shook my head. I left as quickly as I had come, closing the door behind me and locking it.



Kris

“She wasn’t there.”

“I know.”

“But Sid, she wasn’t there.”

We had already gone to her apartment, and to the hospital. We stopped at a nearby park, running across the grass and searching the picnic tables for her, but she wasn’t there. We even prowled several streets close to where she lived and worked, stopping in every bookshop and café that we came across. There was no sign of her, and it was past sundown.

“Okay,” Sid said, holding up his hands in an effort to calm me down. “Let’s think about this logically. It’s a Friday night. If she’s not at work and she’s not at home, where else would she go?”

My mind was whirling. Was she at a bar, drinking and laughing with friends from work? Was she out dancing, entwined with some other guy? No. I shook my head, pressing my lips together. Lux wasn’t like that. She would rather sit at home and read then go out like that, especially when she worked so hard. Think about it logically. Where would she go?

The answer was so obvious that I almost slapped myself. “Sid!”

Sid jumped, looking around in fright. “What? What?”

“Boston.”

He frowned. “Yes, Kris, we’re in Boston.”

I slugged him in the arm. “No, imbécile, the Bruins! Don’t they have a game tonight?”

He rubbed his arm, glaring at me. “Against Philly, yeah.” Suddenly, his glare faded. “Oh my god, they have a game tonight. Do you think--”

“Where else would she be?”

Sidney raised his arm, leaning over the curb. “Taxi!”



Lux

“My last heart has always been for you.”

For almost two periods, I sat next to Peter and explained things to him, like the rules, why certain players were doing what, and who everyone was. He had a general idea of what hockey was like now, and he knew that the team in white was the one to root against, so he was doing it gladly. And although it was fun, to talk with him like we used to and just enjoy the game, towards the end of the night, my thoughts were wandering. There was a restless feeling starting at my toes and creeping upwards, and if I didn’t get up soon and do something, I was going to explode.

The puck deflected out of play, and I stood. Peter looked up at me over a plastic cup of beer. “Where are you going?”

“Food. Want anything?”

“Yeah, get me a hot dog, will you?” He peeled a couple of crumpled bills out of his wallet. I shoved them into the pocket of my jeans and walked up the stairs to the concourse as fast as I could. It still felt hard for me to breathe, and I wondered if I would ever lose that.

What was the difference between moving on and getting over something? I felt like it was an obstacle course. Moving past it would be like wading through mud and coming out on the other side to keep running. But getting over something, that was like climbing over one of those rope structures and fairly falling down the other side. And so what if you did make it all the way up and over that perilous climb? You would be on the other side, even more exhausted then you had been before you climbed, and even though you were over it, you’d still remember the climb.

I did a quick lap around TD Garden, before waiting in line to buy Peter his hot dog. By then, the second period was about to end, and we’d sit through another intermission. I was seriously considering delivering his hot dog and then faking an illness so I could go home and curl up with a book, maybe The Gargoyle, and start working my way up to getting over this.

I paid for the hot dog and made my way back to my seat. The period ended, and tons of other people were getting up, for refills or merchandise, going past me, talking excitedly. I envied them their nonchalance, their happiness. Peter always said there was a light in me, but I felt it had gone out long ago.

It wasn’t until I was halfway to my seat that I heard the commotion behind me. People were shouting, gasping, their words making no sense in my head until I heard someone call my name. I turned, slowly, my heart crashing around in my heart as I instantly recognized that voice.



Kris

This was insane. Sid was who he was, and even with a hat on, as we ran to the doors of TD Garden, everyone noticed. They didn’t even ask us for tickets; the two of us blazed through the metal detectors while the attendants stared, open-mouthed. “Hey,” I heard someone say. “Wasn’t that Sidney Crosby?”

Neither of us cared. It would have been smart to wait until after the game, to look for her filing out with the masses, but I needed to find her now. Now that we were in the same city, I felt like there was a string from my heart to her hands, and she was reeling me in, pulling me in the right direction. I couldn’t ignore that tugging feeling, and it was getting stronger with every step we took.

But I should have known it couldn’t last.

“Holy shit!” someone shouted. “It’s Sidney Crosby!”

I looked over my shoulder, slowing as I saw Sid get mobbed by fans on the concourse. He looked like he wanted to push through them, but he couldn’t, not without knocking them down. Kids were dancing around his feet in excitement.

He looked up and saw me. “Go! Find her!”

I nodded once, before I kept running. Faces flew past me, black, gold, orange, and white blurring into one color that didn’t look like anything. The smell of beer and grilled food filled my nose, overwhelming alongside the scent of the ice, and the cold of the air. I ran as fast as I could, searching for that gold hair, for the familiar swing of her hips in the way that she walked. I ran until my lungs burned, and my legs began to shake from the effort of keeping me up. I ran all around TD Garden, searching.

Then, just when I was about to give up, I saw her. She was standing in line at a food concession stand, waiting patiently for her change to be made. I lost what little breath I had left, and my head spun in dizzy circles. I hadn’t seen her since January, and it was like I’d been punched in the gut.

“Hey,” a girl suddenly said from beside me, staring at me in surprise. She didn’t look old enough to be out of college. She had a beer in one hand and a camera in the other. “You’re Kris Letang.”

I couldn’t speak. My lungs were still being razed by chemical burns. I just nodded, shrugging.

“Uh, not to be rude, but what are you doing here?”

I pointed at Lux, panting out a sentence. Practice wasn't even this hard. “I am...in love...with that woman.”

She glanced over at where I was pointing. “Does she know?”

“I’m about to find out.”

“Wow.” The girl raised her beer to me. “Good luck.”

“Thanks.” I turned in time to see Lux walking away, a hot dog in hand, her shoulders slumped forward. She looked unhappy, and I felt a kick in my guts. I did that. We did that.

Adrenaline kicked back into gear, ignoring my jelly legs and pained lungs. I pushed through several bystanders, and several of them grumbled at me before falling swiftly silent. Maybe they recognized me. I couldn’t say for sure, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but getting to her.

“Lux!”

She didn’t hear me over the sound of the buzzer as the second period ended. I reached the top of the stairs, and saw everyone start to get up, to get more beers, more nachos, a hat or a t-shirt. I began pushing past them. “Excusez-moi. Please, excuse me. I’m trying to get down there, excu--”

“Whoa,” someone said. “You’re Kris Letang! Pittsburgh Penguins, right?”

Several people nearby swiveled, stopping to look. Some of them were wearing Flyers jerseys. Oh, fuck. I pointed. “I need to get down there.”

“Why?”

I pushed past a few more people, before standing on one step and cupping my hands around my mouth. I felt embarrassed, too conspicuous, with everyone around watching me; my cheeks were red, I could feel it. But I can’t care right now.

“LUX!”

She froze. My heart danced in my chest, nearly bursting free from my skin. I dropped my hands, watching as she turned around. She stared up at me, face white as a ghost, as if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Not knowing what else to do, I raised one hand and waved.

It took her a minute. She still looked shocked, like maybe this was a dream we were both sharing. But then slowly, she started to smile. My heart softened, as someone behind me whistled. “Damn. No wonder you’re in Boston.”

She waved back.



Lux

“Lux?”

I turned. Peter was behind me, looking concerned. “Are you all right?”

I nodded. “Yeah, I just…” I looked back at Kris, where he was standing about ten steps above me. We’d attracted a small crowd, and I knew it was only a matter of time before the Jumbotron got wind of it.

“That’s him, isn’t it?”

I nodded, before handing Peter his hot dog. “Here. That’s yours.”

“Thank you.” Peter smiled, lightly touching my shoulder. “Go.”

I didn’t think twice. I didn’t look at the steps, or at any of the people around us, just Kris. He looked out of breath and slightly hesitant, like now that he was here, he didn’t quite know what to do. I’d wanted to believe it earlier when I found the book, but it just seemed too impossible. I should have known. I had fallen head over heels in love with him in two months; why should I find anything impossible after that?

I stopped several steps away from him, suddenly nervous too. What did I say here? Sorry I have your best friend’s heart? Sorry I didn’t tell you sooner? Sorry I did tell you? No. I would never be sorry for that. He had deserved to know, and I couldn’t regret telling him the truth, though it had caused a chasm in between our happiness.

“Lux, I’m sorry,” he said, taking a step down. I resisted the urge to back up. This time, I did look around at the people surrounding us. I made a conscience decision right then and there, to break the rule I always tried to be so careful about.

“Por quoi?”

He took a deep breath, and I could practically see him making the internal switch from English. “Laissant.”

I frowned. He was sorry for leaving? But--

“Et pour ce que j'ai dit.” He shook his head. “Pour ma réaction. J'ai eu peur.”

“I was scared, too, Kris.” I didn’t even realize the switch until I’d spoken, but it was too late now; suddenly all these strangers were involved and I couldn’t take it back. “I didn’t want this. I never wanted it. But I did want to tell you, and I should be the one apologizing.”

“You apologized enough. It’s my turn.” He took another deep breath, descending one more step. He was only two above me now. “Luc was my best friend, and I felt like it was all happening all over again, like I had to lose him twice. I just needed time, to think, to get away. And it has been months and now I…” He struggled to find the words, frowning. “I feel the loss of you, here.” He placed a palm flat to his chest. “Lux, tu me manques.”

A lump rose in my throat. “I miss you, too.”

“I came here tonight, thinking…” He stopped, shook his head. “No, I was not thinking. I just came here hoping to find you.” He stepped down once more. He was right in front of me, right above me, and I could feel his presence colliding once more with mine, the spaces outside of us and within us fitting back together like a long-lost puzzle piece. He and I were finally right where we belonged.

“You found me,” I said softly.

In physics, we are taught that if the universe was empty, save for two molecules as far away from each other as they can possibly get, they will always end up colliding. It’s the rules of attraction. Despite light years of distance between the two of them and the chilling black emptiness of space, they would find a way to each other without fail. It’s just gravity. Love was like that. Sometimes two people were just destined to be together, and they would find each other in all that nothingness, no matter what.

“I think I knew. Maybe I did not want to know, but somehow, I just knew.” He reached out with one hand to touch my hair, but he didn’t. His hand just moved over it, tracing the outline, but I felt it anyway, and I stifled a shiver. “Lux, I’m in love with you.”

I wiped my eyes quickly, letting out one surprised laugh. There were so many emotions swirling through me that there was no definable term for them. It was all too much, but for the first time, I thought I could handle it. This is where I’m supposed to be.

I jumped up beside Kris, standing on the same step as him. Now, we were on even ground. “And I am in love with you, Kristopher Letang.” I put my hand on his arm, where I knew his tattoo for you was inked into the skin, just out of sight. Just like you. “But if you run away like that again, I’ll--”

He didn’t let me finish. He yanked me against him and pressed his lips to mine. I had missed that feeling, and I let myself fall back into the familiar warmth of his arms. Everyone cheered around us, even some of the Philadelphia fans, and when the entire arena began clapping, I knew the Jumbotron had found us. I didn’t bother worrying about what the headlines would say. Let them talk, I thought, Kris and I separating with a shy smile. Nothing matters but this.

We looked around at everyone hollering and catcalling beside us, and laughed. I kissed him again, and I knew at the same time you did, my heart settling into place like it had never done before.

This is home.

After the game, Peter gave the three of us a ride back to my apartment. He was star-struck, looking repeatedly in the rearview mirror, as if he couldn’t believe that Sidney Crosby and Kris Letang were smushed together in his backseat. Though I always imagined he would be more talkative then he actually was if he were to ever meet a hockey player, he was surprisingly silent, leaving Sid to pick up the slack. After a few minutes of awkward conversation about medicine, he gave up. I didn’t even care. I smiled the entire way.

Both Sidney and Kris were going to stay the night, with Sid catching a flight back the next morning. He had some media to attend to, before he and Max went to the Cannes Film Festival the next week. Kris agreed to stay with me for the week, and though I tried to tell him I would spend most of it working, he wasn’t dissuaded. Truthfully, neither was I. It was enough to know that he would be there in the city, with me.

Sid volunteered to take the couch, while Kris took the guest room. It seemed the obvious thing for Kris to sleep in my bed, but while Sidney was there, I didn’t want to be too over-the-top. It was a matter of being polite, so I fixed up the couch with blankets, and moved some books off the bed in the guest room.

None of us had eaten earlier, so Sid volunteered to pick up food. I wrote down the name of a local Chinese place a few blocks away, along with the address. Since Boston had won the series and swept Philly in four games, I knew the mood among the city’s hockey fans would be jubilant tonight, and there wouldn’t be any hostility for him to worry about. Boston was a lovely city, no doubt, but not well-known for its polite inhabitants.

He agreed to be back within the hour, but I had a feeling he would walk around a bit if he had the chance. I wasn’t so naïve that I thought he was just getting us food; I knew he had volunteered to give us some time alone.

The second the door shut, Kris had his arms around me. He didn’t kiss me, though. He just leaned his forehead against mine, closed his eyes, and let out a breath that it seemed like he’d been holding. He reached up to touch my hair, running his fingers through it. I pressed a soft, light kiss to his collarbone.

“Lux, I… I wanted to ask you something.”

“Anything.”

“Can I hear it?”

I almost asked him what he was talking about, before I realized he meant you. Slowly, I nodded. I pulled myself away from him and pulled off my Boston shirt. I set it on the kitchen table, before I sat down on the hardwood floor. Laying on my back, I patted the space beside me. Shaking his hair out of his face, Kris joined me on the floor of my apartment, before settling his body over mine.

His hands grasped my hips gently. On the floor, I could see up and out the window beside us. The moon was a thin crescent grin, smiling at me from the sky. Stars were twinkling in the night, half-covered by clouds. Somewhere in an apartment below us, a violin began to play a soft, melodious air. I ran my fingers through his hair, brushing it back from his face as he pressed his ear to my chest.

He tensed, waiting, before he heard it and I felt it at the same time. Bu-bum, bu-bum, bu-bum. Your heart beat for me, as it did for you in life, just like it beat for hockey, like it beat for Kris, and like it beat for love.

I heard Kris’ sharp intake of breath, before I felt wetness on my chest, sliding down towards my collarbone. “Thank you,” he whispered, holding me tightly. “Thank you.”

The two of us lay there bathed in the moonlight, listening to the violin below and the strong beating of the heart you'd given me. Kris and I had lost a lot on our journeys, but I was finally starting to realize that we'd won a lot, too. We would both always miss you, but you had given us something nobody could take away.

Maybe I didn’t have as many hearts as Marianne in The Gargoyle, but I knew that my last one -- the one I shared with you -- would always belong to Kris.

O let us talk of quiet we know,
that we can know, the deep and lovely quiet
of a strong heart at peace!