Fix You

I was working on my fourth cup of coffee, allowing the nervous jitters to guide me through the rest of my breakfast with Kris. He’d ushered me into some hole-in-the-wall place a few blocks from the hospital and no one batted an eyelash when he walked in. Either it was popular with him and his teammates or it was his go-to spot when he took a girl out. Not that I minded; the waitstaff was friendly and warm, wishing me a happy holiday as soon as I sat down, and our waitress didn’t give me the evil eye for showing up with a member of the Penguins.

I hadn’t given much thought to going out in public with a professional athlete, mostly because Kris didn’t seem like one. Sure, his sweater could barely contain his arms and he didn’t have to double-check the prices on the menu before ordering, but he was a completely normal person otherwise. On more than one occasion I’d look at him and have to contain a smile. Leave it to me to not have a single friend for six years and once I finally do it’s Kris Letang.

The conversation started off light, kind of like a grown-up version of Twenty Questions. He asked a few questions about our parents, my childhood and about you. I asked about hockey and Montreal, admitting that it was ranked high on my list of places I wanted to visit. Kris didn’t skip a beat, immediately launching into all the things you and I could do together once you got out of the hospital. It wasn’t until he was done that he noticed the crestfallen expression I’d adopted.

“Annie?”

“Sorry.”

“Did I say something?”

“No,” I lied. The last thing I wanted was to lose the closest thing I had to a friend. Especially now. “It’s just…the doctors, they don’t…”

And then I burst into tears, right in the middle of the restaurant. Luckily Kris and I were the only customers and my embarrassment was minimal, but that didn’t calm me. I’d always had this thing about crying, especially in public, and being in front of someone who was still mostly a stranger only amplified it. Deep down I knew my reaction was justified. On the surface I knew I couldn’t have picked a worse time.

“Annie, hey,” he said, immediately reaching over the table to place his hand over mine, “it’s okay. You have every right to be upset.”

I sniffled and managed somewhat of a smile. “This is really embarrassing. I’m sorry.”

“Do all your dates go like this?” he joked, cracking a smile of his own. I could feel my cheeks turn crimson as all the heat in my body seemed to congregate to my face and I hid behind my menu. “I’ll take that as a no.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“You just did.” I lowered the menu as I rolled my eyes. “Shoot.”

“You don’t talk about AJ like he has a death sentence,” I said slowly, choosing my words as carefully as I could while still keeping the nerve to keep talking. “Why?”

Kris shrugged. Either he’d assumed I would ask or my question didn’t faze him. “He’s still here, isn’t he? Why talk about him being something he’s not?”

Why pretend he’s already dead?

I didn’t know what to say so I kept quiet. A few minutes of silence passed between Kris and I before our waitress returned with our food. She asked if I’d like her to refill my coffee and I shook my head. Anymore jitters and I’d probably up and leave. As I cut into my omelette I began thinking about a lot of things. Was this a new beginning or just the mirage of a detour? One day I’d have to face the truth whether I traded in my mornings at the hospital for fancy diners or stayed at home, strung out from no sleep and miserable.

Kris was already halfway finished with his plate before he spoke again. “Can I ask you something?” I nodded. “What’s wrong with him?”

“Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma,” I answered. It felt foreign on my tongue, like I was talking about someone I’d heard of but didn’t know personally.

“What do they think?”

I sighed. “They’re not really sure. He isn’t getting worse but he isn’t getting better, either. The doctor said chemo alone probably won’t get rid of it so they’ve been trying a cocktail of medications.”

Kris nodded. I wasn’t sure if he completely understood, if he’d gone through this already with a family member of his own, but I hoped that wasn’t the case. I was surprised at how well he handled it—such poise and tolerance. Most people thought of sick children as charity cases and nothing more. Throw a few stacks of money at them and they’re miraculously cured. Not that I could blame them. Who wanted to be conscious of a child’s suffering?

“What about your parents?”

I choked on the gulp of coffee I’d just taken. “What about them?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “Shouldn’t they be helping? It seems like you’re doing this all by yourself.”

“That’s because I am.” Kris gave me a look and I lowered my defenses. “They, uh…they died.”

“Oh,” he replied. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“It’s okay. You didn’t know.”

“Stupid, stupid, stupid.”

“Uh, Kris—”

“Who says something like that? Jeez, Annie, I’m so sorry.”

“Kris, really—”

“Please, let me pay for your breakfast to make up for my inconsideration.”

“That’s really not—”

“Great,” he smiled, and I didn’t bother arguing with him. Partly because I was sure I wouldn’t get a word in edgewise and partly because I was mortified. I hadn’t talked about the accident to anyone since I had to break the news to you.

All of this was happening so fast that my head was spinning. Between meeting Kris and him somehow sandwiching himself in our life, I didn’t know what to think. I didn’t understand him. I knew better than to be suspect, to think his motives were impure, but for the life of me I could not figure out why someone would be so nice to someone they didn’t know; to someone like me: as fucked up as they came.

The waitress made her final rounds. Kris took the check from her and laid down his credit card without blinking. It reminded me so much of Dad in the way that he always wanted to take care of us. Usually with money, but that’s just how Daddy was. Before all of this I’d been doing so good, Alex. I hadn’t thought about them in so long—hadn’t cried, hadn’t stayed up all night wondering why this happened to us—and then Kris came along and tore up all my hard work.

He stood to shrug on his coat and I felt guilty for letting my eyes linger. You wouldn’t understand but he was so beautiful. Simply being in the same room as him made my head spin, and it wasn’t from lack of sleep or crying myself sick.

“Ready?” he asked, and he held out his hand to help me from my seat.

I didn’t want to touch him. I didn’t want to feel that zap of electricity that I’d gone twenty-three years without feeling but there it was. Mama always said God worked in mysterious ways and I hadn’t believed her until now. Losing her, on the verge of losing you—the only thing left to lose was my mind, and that had began packing the day you were admitted. But I was starting to feel better, more optimistic, and maybe it had everything to do with Kris. Maybe I was just imagining things.

He’d given you a reason to fight. Now he was giving me one, too.

I used to dread winter. When I was your age, Mama took me on my first vacation: Disney World. The whole trip I wouldn’t stop asking her why it was so warm there and why it was so cold at home. She didn’t say it was because of Florida’s proximity to the equator or anything scientific, just told me it was because of the palm trees. Since then I’d spend every winter dreaming of palm trees and a warm breeze—anything to escape the bitter cold of Pittsburgh. I didn’t seem to mind it so much now. Watching the snow fall or sitting around a fire were temporary moments of peace. I needed all of them that I could get.

“Anywhere else you’d like to go?” Kris asked, slowing at a crosswalk. The streets were empty and there wasn’t a car in sight. It truly felt like Kris and I were the only people left on earth.

“I don’t think anything’s open.”

“Oh, right, it’s Christmas.” He seemed to dwell on this sudden realization until the light changed and we were permitted to cross the street. “We can go back to my place.” I stopped. “No funny business,” he said quickly. “Je promets.”

I weighed my options. You would probably sleep until late afternoon and the rest of the hospital staff was probably so sick of seeing me they’d force me right back out and in the direction of Kris’s place. My only concern was leaving you. If it were any day other than Christmas I wouldn’t have thought twice, but I couldn’t bear the thought of you waking up alone with no one there.

“I’d love to, but…”

“Alex?” I bit my lip as I nodded. “Want me to walk you back to the hospital?”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Yes I do. Ma mere would kill me if she knew I let a pretty lady go off on her own.”

I smiled. “Wouldn’t want to upset her now would we?”


As soon as I was in your room I deposited my breakfast into the toilet. Letting guilt eat me alive was becoming a very ugly habit I had no idea how to break. If you knew what was going on you’d tell me I was being silly, even if you didn’t know why. You didn’t know what it meant to deny yourself happiness or to feel so ugly about having feelings for someone that the guilt manifested as soon as they were out of sight, only to be flushed down the toilet until the next time.

I wanted to be stronger, to have more self-control than to let Kris affect me like this. He made me smile so much my cheeks hurt, made me forget about all the awful things life had thrown at me—at us—and gave me a reason to think things would eventually get better. And that’s what made me feel so awful. The more I thought about Kris, the less I thought about you.

Shaky hands cupped cold water before I splashed my face. Shaky hands unlocked the bathroom door and shut it behind me. Shaky hands picked up the discarded wrapping paper from your gifts and shoved it into a large trash bag.

“Annie?”

I dropped the bag and turned to face you, almost shocked to hear your voice. For the first time in years it sounded normal, strong. You sounded like the Alex who wasn’t fighting for his life.

“Hi, baby.”

“Where’s Kris?”

“He had some things to do.”

“Is he coming back?”

I sat on the edge of your bed and ran a steady hand through your hair. “I’m sure he will be, buddy.”

You nodded and asked me to turn on the television. A Christmas Story was still playing and you smiled, curling into my side. I wrapped my arm around you and tried to commit the scene to memory.

“Annie?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you like Kris?”

I looked down at you. “Why do you ask?”

You shrugged. “Because he told me he likes you and it would be mean if he liked you and you didn’t like him back.”

“Is that so?” You nodded. “Well, don’t you worry about such things, okay?”

This was about more than just being mean. You were worried. I’d seen that look in your eyes a million times—before your first day of school, at Dad and Mama’s funeral, after your first appointment with the doctor. If I didn’t like Kris he wasn’t going to come around anymore. He was going to leave. And now that he’d inserted himself in your life, you couldn’t lose him, too. Neither could I.

I’d never entertained the thought of having children of my own before you were left with me. I never felt prepared to be a mother, never felt like I could do as good a job as Mama. But I’d picked up a thing or two, the most important being that your happiness mattered more than mine. My stomach settled at the thought. There was no need to feel guilty.

I just hoped Kris wanted to play the role he’d just acquired rather than pass it off onto someone else.