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Chapter 26

Kitty

I was up early on Christmas Eve, still adjusting to West Coast time. I put on a pot of coffee and looked out over a still-dark Seattle. Guy padded out to the kitchen at around six, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. He didn’t say a word, just wrapped himself around me from behind. I twined my arms over his and he kissed my neck.

“I don’t even want to say it,” I moped.

“Merry Christmas?” he asked, mirth in his voice.

I turned to face him. “No, you goof. Let’s have coffee and talk.”

We settled in on his couch, facing into each other. We were close enough to hold hands but far enough to give ourselves space. I wanted to be able to study his face while we talked through it all.

“How do you think things are going when we’re apart?” I started, giving him an open-ended question to answer.

“Not great,” he said. “I want to say that it’s not your fault, though. I want to make that clear.”

“I know. It’s not your fault, either,” I said. “Distance is just really hard.”

“It is. Harder than I thought it would be,” he admitted.

“I think we’re kind of torturing ourselves. You deserve to be able to focus on hockey. Our relationship is supposed to bring joy, not stress.”

“You do bring me joy, Kitty. You make me so happy. So stupid happy. But it’s not the same when we’re not together. It’s like something gets lost along the way. I still love you, so deeply. I still think you’re the love of my life.”

I held back tears as he said that. “I think that, too. But we’re hurting each other trying to force it. We’re both leading half-lives instead of supporting each other.”

Guy nodded. “We are.”

The next part was super hard to say. “I don’t know when the hard part would end, Guy. The distance is going to be a thing at least until I graduate, and then I’ll probably be in New York or L.A. At minimum, we’re talking two and a half more years. That’s a long time of things being hard.”

“It is. For what it’s worth, I don’t want to break up. I just want to have it all work.”

I took his hand, the calluses of his palm a familiar scrape. “I wish it was that easy. But you deserve to not be distracted by misery, and I deserve to focus on my dreams, too.”

“You’re part of my dream, Birdy. I just can’t figure out how to make it work right now,” Guy said. “I want to spend my life with you. You’re my person, Kitty.”

“I want that, too. But I don’t think we can do that right now.”

Guy was quiet for a while. We both knew what we needed to do. Neither of us wanted to say it.

“What do we do for the next few days?”

I shrugged, morose. “What do you want to do?”

“I don’t want to be sad the whole time. I want to pretend. I want to love you like it’s not the last time.”

So that’s what we did. After a slow, sweet, passionate session in bed, we cooked Guy’s traditional Quebecois Christmas Eve feast. We played around and pretended like we weren’t on a sinking ship, dancing in the kitchen like nothing was wrong. A few other couples without family close were coming over for dinner. Guy asked if I wanted to call it off given what we were going through. We decided the distraction might be good for us. A full table would take our minds off our bruised hearts.

Rather than being stuffed with healthy food, Guy’s fridge and pantry were filled with essentials for the dinner menu. Reveillon was to be quite a production. Traditionally, it centered around going to midnight mass. Guy was cutting out that portion in favor of excess eating and wine drinking. Guy spent half the day working on the meat pie, assigning me to the much simpler meatballs. He told me about some of his sweet memories from his childhood, helping Maman and Grandmere make reveillon food. He taught me some French Christmas carols, my horrific pronunciation making him blush on my behalf.

Before the guests were due to arrive, I put on a maroon velvet dress, pulling my hair half up and adding gold earrings Guy had given me the last Christmas. Guy put on a deep blue suit, looking dapper as always. He pulled me into the kitchen and opened a bottle of champagne to settle my nerves. Though I love to perform, hosting is not natural for me. Particularly as a nineteen-year-old serving grown-ups.

“They’re going to love you, ma puce ,” he promised with a kiss.

And later, as I looked around the crowded table, warm from wine and stuffed with a crumbly-ass meat pie and cheesecake that one of his friends brought, I felt at peace. Guy squeezed my leg under the table and stood to raise a toast.

“I want to thank all of you for joining Kitty and me tonight, and for being my extended family. And I want to raise a toast to my Kitty Bird, the love of my life,” he said, turning to me and taking my hand that was free of a wine glass. “No matter where this road takes us, I’ll always be waiting for you, your home base. In a world full of Pepsi and Coke, you’re my Dr. Pepper.”

Maybe it was the wine, or the sweetness of what he said, or just Guy being my one, but I truly believed that one day, it would all work out.

* * *

Guy and I got up late on Christmas morning. The festivities continued well past midnight, when we shoved some of Guy’s very drunk but very lovable teammates into the cars he’d hired for the evening. Though we woke up blissfully naked, Guy had matching pajamas laid out for us. I commented on how sweet it was.

“If I’m going to keep you away from the Gattos, I want to make it special,” he said. “I know how much your family loves Christmas.”

“We’ll call them later, I’m sure,” I said. “But thank you for being so thoughtful.”

He got an evil grin. “Did you get me presents, woman?” I smacked him.

“Yes, I got you presents, greedy.”

“Come onnnnn,” he wheedled, tugging me out of bed. Pajama’d up, we sat in his living room around his Christmas tree. We started with our smaller gifts: a sweatsuit for his new team for me and some of his favorite coffee from me. I gave him a biography he’d been wanting to read. He gave me a stuffed flea “for ma puce ” and to go with the rat that he’d given me.

“Fleas and rats, huh? Very Plague chic.”

“I thought it was appropriate. You’re a little flea, and I love my city kitties,” he laughed. “We go together like fleas and rats.”

Guy’s minor at Alden was history, so he loved little facts about the past. I was not surprised he worked a Plague joke into our Christmas gift exchange.

“Okay, you know I’m a poor college student, but here’s your big gift,” I said, handing him a small but heavy box.

“I know I’ll love it,” Guy said, practically glowing at me. He unwrapped it, the outer box still not giving it away.

“Careful with it,” I warned as he slid it out of the box. It was a snow globe with two figures kissing in front of a house. I couldn’t make it look exactly the way I wanted, but I got close.

Guy’s eyes welled with tears. “Birdy, is this us? In front of my house last year?”

I nodded. Guy turned it upside down, watching the snow swirl and covering his mouth.

“Kitty, it’s perfect. Thank you.” His voice crackled. He pulled me to him, and I wrapped my legs around his hips. “That was when you said ‘I love you’ for the first time. I loved that moment.”

“Me, too. That’s why I wanted to remember it.”

We sat in a mini-sea of wrapping paper, our coffee having gone cold in our gift opening frenzy.

“I have one more gift for you. It’s a little different. I want you to hear me out before you freak out. Can you do that?”

“Guy,” I said, looking at him sidelong. “Now you have me nervous.”

He walked to the tree, digging into the branches and pulling out a small box. A box from a jewelry store. He sat in front of me on the coffee table, while I sat on the couch. His hands shook, his long fingers looking out of place on the tiny box.

“Kitty, I meant what I said last night. You’re the love of my life and I don’t want anyone else. I know everything’s a mess now. I wanted to give you this option, in case it’s what you need to hear to stay. In case you need to know how serious I am.”

Guy opened the box, revealing a diamond ring. An engagement ring.

“Birdy, I love you more than anyone in this world. You’re my love, my best friend, my family. If you don’t want to work or finish school, you don’t have to. I can take care of you. I know we’re young. But I know it’s you for me. Just you. If you want to start our forever now, we can.”

My mouth hung open. I wasn’t sure I’d breathed since I saw that tiny box. Guy watched me, waiting for an answer. I gave none. I was genuinely struck speechless for once in my life. Time stood still. Or maybe it didn’t. The clock in his kitchen seemed to carry on just fine, tick-tick-ticking away.

“Guy.” I was unable to say anything else.

“Kitty, if now isn’t the right time, that’s okay, too. I just . . . wanted to give you the option.”

“Is this what you want?” I asked, finally finding some words.

“I want whatever will make you happy, ma puce.” His voice was slow, cautious.

The tears came to me. “When did you buy this?”

“A few weeks ago,” he said. “I planned to hold onto it longer, but I don’t know. After what we’ve talked about, it felt like I should at least offer you everything I have to give.”

“You’d marry me just to keep me?” I asked, still not sure how I felt about that.

“If I could have you here every day, I would. I know it’s selfish. I know you want your career. I want you to have what you want. But just in case that’s not what you want, I’m here.”

“Guy, I don’t know what to say. Is that what you want? Me to be a good hockey wife?”

“I want you to be yourself, Kitty. You don’t have to fit a certain mold. I’m not comparing you to anybody.” He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “We can stay engaged for a long time if you want. I just want to stay in your life.”

It was hard to make sense of the noisy emotions swirling in my head. I was honored, flattered, and thrilled in one way. But moreso, I was horrified that he’d even think comedy would be something I could give up, especially before I’d even gotten started.

“But I can’t be myself if I give up everything to come be with you. We can’t have it both ways. I can’t give 50% at school and 50% in comedy and 50% to you. There’s not enough me to go around.”

“You don’t have to say yes, Kitty. I know this is a lot. I’m not trying to control you. I won’t think you don’t love me if you say no. But know that I’ll give you whatever it takes to make you happy.” His lips went into a pout and his eyes rounded. “Even if that means we need to break up for now.”

Oh, I didn’t like where that was headed. Not one bit. “You’re making it sound like it’s all my decision, Guy. You know our distance has distracted you, too. That’s not fair.”

“I’m getting by,” he sniffed. “I’m okay to keep going like this. But I get it if it’s not working for you.”

“Do you hear yourself? It’s not just me that’s suffering, Guy! Don’t pin it all back on me! You’re not happy either.”

“Well, I’d rather be unhappy with you than unhappy alone,” he snapped.

“For the next two and a half years?!” I asked, raising my voice. “We both deserve better than that.”

“I’ll wait forever, Birdy. No one could take your place.”

“Look, I don’t want to let you go. I don’t want this to be happening. But it is. I won’t be happy if I give up my dreams to be with you. You’ll feel guilty about it. We’ll still be miserable,” I pointed out.

Guy put his head in his hands. “This was a stupid fucking idea.”

I softened. I wasn’t trying to hurt him more, but I wouldn’t stand for him making himself the victim while I was the villain.

“It wasn’t,” I said, taking his hand. He was opening his entire heart to me, and I wanted to be careful with it. “It was a risk, but it shows me how much you value what we have. I do, too.”

I took a deep, shaky breath, not wanting to deliver the next part. “But I can’t say yes right now, Guy.”

He bit his lip, hanging his head. “Okay.”

“I’m nineteen. I go to the top school for what I want to do. I still want my dreams. I want to be independent and have my own career. I’d never ask you to give up hockey. And I know you mean well, but it kind of hurts that you’re asking me to give up comedy. I need to focus these next few years, and if we’re struggling that whole time, it won’t help either of us. And I hope you can understand that.”

“I do. I want those things for you, too. But I also want you here.”

“I know,” was all I could manage. Guy opened and closed his mouth a few times, emotion building.

“I’m going to say this, and it might be the wrong thing to say.”

“It’s okay. I can take it,” I said, not really sure if I could. I needed to hear whatever it was regardless.

“Did you think we were doomed from the start? You knew I was moving, and you warned me how hard long-distance would be. Did you really give me everything these past few months, or did you hold back?”

I was stunned, the air sucked out of my lungs. It was a fair question, but that didn’t mean it didn’t sting. I sat back. His eyes searched the couch cushion as he picked at the coffee table’s edge. He still sat where he was when he proposed.

“Did you ever believe in us?”

“Of course, I did. I wanted this to work just as much as you did. I don’t want this to be the way it ends.”

“Then don’t end it, Kitty. Tough it out with me. Stay with me,” he begged, his voice breaking.

“Our relationship will keep fraying because we can’t give each other what we need, Guy.”

“What if your career doesn’t work out?”

“What the fuck, Guy! You don’t believe in me?”

“You don’t believe in us!” he snapped. We stared at each other. We’d never fought, not like that. I was too shocked to cry.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “That wasn’t fair. You know I believe in you, but comedy is hard, Kitty. Would you come be with me then?”

My stomach turned. It was the outcome I preferred not to think about. “I don’t know. Probably? I really don’t want that to happen.”

“I know, Kitty. I don’t want it either. I want you to succeed. But I also want you here.”

“I have to at least try to make it first.”

He nodded, morose. Then he got more and more agitated, fidgeting.

“What do you need that I’m not giving you?” he burst out, looking manic. “Maybe there’s a way to fix it, Birdy.” Guy took my hand, rolling his lips between his teeth and swallowing hard.

“Okay. I don’t know if I can put an exact name to it, but I’ll try.” I took a deep breath to steady myself. “I need things to be easy. I know you support me. I support you and cheer for your success so fucking hard, Guy. But I need to not have to talk about everything sometimes. When all we have is talking, we lose the little stuff. The inside jokes. The things that happen from just being together. Sometimes I need to be able to just lay in bed and watch a show with you. There are ways we communicate that aren’t talking, or even sex. We have our way of being together. I’m sure you remember how amazing it was to get it back when we met up at school.”

Guy nodded. “I know what you mean. It was a rush finding our groove again.”

I gave him a sad smile, remembering, and went on. “I’m also missing parts of your life. You can tell me about Branson, but seeing you with him is more powerful. And I love visiting each other, but these are power catch-up sessions. It’s not the same as being in each other’s lives every day. Does that make sense?”

“It does,” he said. “Maybe it can’t be fixed.”

“I don’t want to fade away with you. I think it’s possible,” I said slowly, trying not to cry again, “that we thought this was our time to try, but it was actually the wrong time.”

“So you believe there might be another time?” The infinitesimal shred of hope in his voice was heartbreaking.

“I sure hope there is.”