Monday, April 5, 2010

65.) Crêpes

Thanks for letting me know that you guys are still enjoying this. Seriously, you ladies are awesome. You keep me going. This is another long one. Life's been kinda crazy/hectic/frantic over the past week, so hopefully now I can start getting back into a good writing groove again.

Soundtrack Song - Phoenix, 1901

After a long, lonely night spent alone in my room, I emerged to a delicious smell wafting up from the kitchen. Mom was making breakfast, but not just any old breakfast—she was whipping up some of her famous apple and cheese crêpes. I hurried down the stairs, so excited; I hadn’t had any since my day with the Cup back in August.

“Good morning, Maman,” I bade her, leaning in to kiss her cheek as she worked over the stove. “It smells so good in here.”

I reached for a crêpe, and she shooed my hand away. Not before I grabbed a plain one, though, and folded it and began to eat it. “You can wait just like everyone else, Kristopher.” She said it with a smirk, which let me know that I could get away with it.

When she said “everyone else,” she usually meant Henrí. It had always been like that, ever since she started to date him. I didn’t mind—on the contrary, I was happy that she had someone to keep her company when I left home to go play in Val-d’Or and now in Pittsburgh. But that’s the thing: Henrí was my mother’s husband.... That didn’t make him my father. That was one of the very few things that my mother and I disagreed on.

“Everyone else,” however, included Jo this particular time. She was still sleeping in the family room. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t been worried about her sleeping alone in a strange place, but I figured if I didn’t voice my concern then I wouldn’t plant that seed in her mind. But then again, if Mom hadn’t’ve interrupted us, I’m not sure there would have been much sleeping going on.

“So, speaking of ‘everyone else,’ what do you think of Jo?”

Mom pursed her lips, and I was sure that I was going to hear something I didn’t want to hear because she always did that when she had to be the bearer of bad news. “Well, she seems nice enough. And you two are obviously physically attracted to each other.”

I felt a little attacked, and I got defensive. Like I would date a girl just because she was “nice enough.” Or like I would bring someone home that I was only physically attracted to. She raised me better than that, so why was she acting this way? “What is that supposed to mean? Maman, she’s my girlfriend. I love her.”

She inhaled sharply, looking up from what she was doing. “Have you told her that?”

“Once,”
I said with a shrug, trying to be nonchalant about it. “But I don’t think she was ready to hear it. But my point is that I really do like her. A lot. And I want you to like her, too.”

“If you like her, Kristopher, then so do I.”

“Maman...”
I started, trying to prompt a better response.

“What do you want me to say? I said she seems nice. I wouldn’t know any better, because I can’t exactly talk to her, now can I? I always thought you’d end up with a nice French girl. You know, Julie’s still in town—”

“Maman,”
I cut her off. “You only like Julie because she’s lived next door to us for the past fifteen years. If it hasn’t happened by now, then chances are it isn’t going to. Besides, I told you that I love Jo.” Mom shook her head and turned back to the stove. Something was bothering her, and I needed to find out what it was. “What? What is it, Maman? Tell me.”

She smacked her lips together, trying to find the words to finally give a voice to her thoughts. “My little boy is leaving me.”

“What?”
I asked, not sure what she was getting at. “I told you, once we get back from Shippagan on Wednesday and Jo heads home to Pittsburgh, it’ll just be me and you ’til I have to leave. We can hang out, spend time together, do whatever you want to do—”

“It’s not that,”
she interrupted. “I suppose I always knew this day would come, but I didn’t want it to be so soon or like this. It’s bad enough that you have to spend seven to nine months of the year in the States and I only get to see you two or three times during the season, but at least you’d come home for the summer. Now that you’ve got an American girlfriend, you’ll want to stay in Pittsburgh with her all year. If you were dating a French girl, you’d still come back. But you have no reason to come back home to Montréal now.”

“Of course I do,”
I reassured her. “You’re here. Maman, and I will always come home to visit you. I will always be your son. Whoever I’m dating doesn’t change that. I’m happy you have Henrí. Can’t you be happy that I have Jo?”

“Is she good to you?”

“The best,”
I promised her, smiling sincerely.

“I guess I just wish I had more time with you,” she sighed reluctantly.

“I’d still be going to Shippagan for Luc’s birthday, whether Jo were here or not. You know that.” It didn’t make sense for her to take this out on Jo, when it was irrelevant. Mom wouldn’t be happy with any girl I brought home to her, unless it was the neighbor girl. And Julie wasn’t even pretty; Mom just liked that she lived next door, which meant I’d come home whenever I could and we’d still see each other every day.

“I suppose.” She knew I was right but didn’t want to cede her point just yet. So she changed the subject. “Have you heard anything from Mr. Hughes?”

I groaned. The last thing I wanted to talk about during this break was my agent, trade rumors, or extension talks. “Well, talks with Sergei Gonchar have been put off, so—”

“I don’t care about Sergei Gonchar. I care about my son and what’s going to happen with him. Are you staying in Pittsburgh? Do they want to renew your contract? Are you going to see what other teams want you come summer?”


I shrugged. “I wanna stay in Pittsburgh, and Ray and Kent have been talking but haven’t agreed to anything yet. So, we’ll see what happens. One day at a time. First, we get past the trade deadline, and then we see if they renew me before July first. If not, well, we just... wait and see.”

At first, she nodded slowly and grimly. Then she smiled almost deviously. “Just imagine if you could play for Montréal....”

Laughing, I shook my head. Mom wanted nothing more than to keep me home. Not that I could blame her—not after everything we’d been through together as she raised me by herself. Being a hockey mom and a single parent is tough, but we got through it. She sacrificed a lot for me and did the best she could, which was pretty damn good if I do say so myself. Now I wanted to reward her for her hard work and support her in the way she deserved.

She and I had been a team for so long that it had been really weird when I had left home to play in juniors, and I hadn’t known what to do with myself. But that’s when I had Luc to help me out and show the way, while Mom found Henrí. Which reminded me that I had a long drive ahead of me; Jo and I would have to get on the road as soon as possible. “I’d better go wake up Jo, so we can eat and get moving.”

I headed for the door, but Mom said something to give me pause. “You must really care about her a lot if you’re willing to bring her to visit Luc.”

“Yeah, Maman, but it’s not just that.”
I wasn’t sure how much I should say on this subject, but I wanted Mom to understand the circumstances and why this was such a big deal. “You see, Jo, she lost someone close to her, too. And she took it really hard, because she completely idolized her brother, but I like to think I’ve helped her out. And she wants to do the same for me, to be able to try and help ease the pain on the worst of days for me. I’m gonna let her, if she wants to, for her and for me.”

“That’s my son,”
she announced proudly, placing her hands on my cheeks and pulling my face down so she could kiss my forehead. “Such a good boy. That’s how I raised you.”

She let go, and I moved to the family room. I knocked softly on the door and cracked it open. Jo was still sleeping, so I quietly tip-toed in and sat next to her on the pull-out bed. Squeezing her shoulder, I tried to wake her gently. “Good morning, sleepyhead.”

“Mmm,” she hummed, trying to roll away from me. “Still tired.”

“Didn’t you sleep last night?” I questioned her, concerned. I had wondered if she’d have her nightmare again, especially since she was sleeping in a new place, but I hadn’t heard her scream or yell out or make a sound throughout the night, and neither did she come and find me. Usually, I could tell when something wasn’t right. It’s like I just knew, somehow.

“Not really,” she yawned, throwing her hand over her mouth before she added, “What’s the female equivalent of blue balls?”

I barked out a laugh, caught off guard by her comment. That wasn’t what I expected to hear, not at all. “Yeah, sorry about that. But my mom doesn’t want that kind of stuff going on under her roof. You understand, right?”

“Uh huh, mmhmm, yeah right.” Jo rolled her eyes. “Then her timing is immaculate and completely coincidental. It’s like she just knew it was my turn, and she waited ’til you were finished. She didn’t care if you were getting any under her roof, but I swear, she wouldn’t let me. She frickin’ ruined our Valentine’s Day.”

I suppressed a chuckle; Jo was hilarious in how upset she was and how she was blowing this out of proportion. “Well, I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

“You’re missing my point here, Kris.”

“I think you’re reading a little too much into this. Now, she’s making crêpes for breakfast, and they’re so good. Let’s go eat, so we can get a move on, ’kay?”

She pouted a bit and played with the edge of the blanket. “Maybe I should skip eating anything she makes for me. She might put arsenic in it and try to poison me or something.”

“Oh come on, Jo. Now you’re just being silly.”

Jo huffed, crossing her arms over her chest stubbornly. She whispered coarsely, “She hates me, Kris. I know you won’t believe it, because she’s your mom, but she hates me—”

“She doesn’t hate you. It has nothing to do with you, per se. It’s just,” I sighed, grabbing a hold of her arms gently and trying to make her understand, “you know, for so long, it was just me and her. When I left home to play hockey, she started dating and ended up meeting Henrí. I know this sounds stupid, but she needed the companionship for when I wasn’t around, because she got so lonely. Her life was only about me for so long, and then all of a sudden, I wasn’t there anymore. It was different when I was just away from home to live the dream of an NHLer, but now it’s really hard for her to see that I may have other priorities, which could give me a reason to not even come home with I have the chance. Because I don’t get to make it home that often. She thinks that my having an American girlfriend means that I may not want to come home at all. That when I have time off, I’m going to want to spend it with you and not her.”

“But I would never try to keep you from visiting her! I know you guys are super close.”

“And when she realizes that, she’ll love you, too,” I told her. That was the closest I had come to saying I love you since that morning back in December. Jo read into my words and blushed, obviously still uncomfortable with my expression of my feelings. I stopped myself from sighing again, because I wished that we were at that point... but there was nothing I could do to force it to happen. I continued in another direction. “So, let’s go eat, because we need to get ready to go.”

Jo nodded and slid out from under the covers. She was dressed in a blue pair of my boxers and my black Kasüal shirt. Huh, so that’s where that went. As much as I loved Jo wearing my clothes, I liked wearing my clothes, too.

I held out a chair for Jo at the table in the kitchen so she knew where to sit. Then I took the seat next to her, at the head of the table. Mom turned to see us, and Jo greeted, “Good morning, Mrs. Letang.”

“Good morning, Jo. Sleep okay?”

She lied, “Yes, I did, thank you.”

Mom grabbed two plates and set one down in front of each of us. She squeezed my arm as she walked by me and out of the room, presumably to tell Henrí that breakfast was ready.

Jo picked up her fork and poked gingerly at the crêpes, not sure about eating them. “I’m telling you, they’re good. You’ll be sure to like them. Everyone does.” I stabbed a forkful and shoveled it into my mouth. Just as good as always.

“Switch plates with me,” she said, watching as I chewed and swallowed, with no adverse effects.

“No,” I laughed, shaking my head and cutting off another piece.

“Do you think she’d be offended if I told her I wasn’t hungry?”

“Okay, now you’re just being ridiculous. There’s no arsenic in your food, Jo.”

She countered, “If you’re so sure, switch plates with me.”

I huffed about it but quickly exchanged our plates. I cut off a piece of the crêpe and ate it, while getting the brilliant idea to pretend to choke. I grabbed my throat and acted like I couldn’t breathe, making a gagging noise. I must have been a pretty good actor.

“Ohmygod, Kris!” she shrieked, rushing out of her chair and hurrying over to me, and I started to laugh at her when I couldn’t keep up the charade anymore. “Oh, not funny. Asshole,” she muttered under her breath, reaching out to smack me.

I grabbed her arm before she could make contact and pulled her toward me, kissing a trail up her arm as I continued to pull her closer. She resisted at first, but then she ended up sitting in my lap. Then I cupped her cheek and grazed her skin with the pad of my thumb. “I thought it was funny. For real, babe, don’t worry about it. She doesn’t hate you, and she’s not out to kill you. I mean, the ground’s too frozen to be able to bury your body. What we would do with you ’til it thawed?”

My humor did not amuse her. “Wow, you’re just a regular comedian this morning, aren’t you?” She scooted off my lap and sat back in her seat, picking up her fork and stabbing it in my direction as she enunciated her points. “It’s not funny that she doesn’t like me. I had one chance to make a good first impression on her. I don’t get a redo. This was super important to me, because she means so much to you. I really wanted her to like me, but I totally blew it.” She paused. “And don’t you dare say ‘that’s what she said.’”

I stopped myself from laughing like I wanted to. I didn’t see why this was a big deal, because I was pretty sure that it wasn’t too late; Mom just needed time to get used to the idea of me dating Jo. But I’m not gonna lie—I liked hearing how Jo had been desperate to get my mother to like her. It meant a lot to me that it meant a lot to Jo that the two of them get along. “But I told you, Jo, it’s not you. My mom just needs to let this information sink in so she can adjust to it. Give her a chance to come around, okay? Because she will, eventually.”

Jo nodded sadly; I don’t think she believed me yet. With a loud exhale, she finally took a bite of crêpe, albeit with uncertainty. As she began to chew, she moaned. “Holy hell, Kris, these are good.”

“I told you, right?”

Jo could only nod as she took a larger bite, closing her eyes as she savored the taste. It was kind of hot, watching the way she ate it. Mom and Henrí walked in, and Jo spoke around the food in her mouth. “Mrs. Letang, these are unbelievable. Seriously, I don’t think I’ve ever had anything this good.”

Mom grimaced slightly at Jo’s poor manners, slightly disgusted by the way she was talking with her mouth full, but she accepted Jo’s praise. “Thank you.”

We all ate in silence, which I think had more to do with the fact that we couldn’t all converse in the same language rather than a lack of topic of discussion. Besides, we were all enjoying breakfast too much to want to do anything with our mouths other than chew and taste.

When we were finished, I grabbed Jo’s plate and mine and rinsed them in the sink while Jo stood and stretched. She went up on her tip-toes, arched her back, and reached above her head. “I’m so full. I think I ate way too much, but it was just so good,” she groaned, her body working out all of the kinks from sleeping. Jo relaxed back into her standing posture and noticed my mom looking at her critically. Jo glanced at me and then at Mom before looking at me. “What?” There was a bit of panic in her voice.

I could notice two things that Mom could potentially have seen: the scars on her left leg from the accident, visible from under the blue fabric of her shorts, or the mirror-image lettering of her tattoo that had been revealed when her shirt rode up as she stretched. I wasn’t sure which my mom would consider to be worse.

Mom pointed to Jo’s leg and raised an eyebrow, demanding to know, “What happened to her?” She wasn’t asking to be critical—I could tell by her tone—but because she was genuinely curious. Mom glanced between the marks on Jo’s legs and me, waiting for an answer. Jo, who couldn’t know that or what my mother asked, responded by tugging down on the blue material and trying feebly to cover the bitter, lasting reminders of what happened last fall. “Oh. Uh, I was in an accident a few months ago. It’s still healing.” I could tell that she was purposely trying to not disclose certain touchy details.

Mom looked at me to verify, and I just nodded subtly. I knew that my mom would not be happy once she heard about what happened; she’d be more concerned about how Jo’s accident had affected me and why Jo would do such a thing to me when Jo knew how Luc’s death had affected me, than she would be concerned for Jo’s health and general well-being. And let’s face it: Jo still had enough going against her.

She let the topic slide, without asking Jo for further explanations or details. So we headed to our different rooms to gather our things and prepare for the eight- to nine-hour drive to our destination in New Brunswick. I packed just what I would need for the next few days, while Jo grabbed everything that she had brought with her.

I slung my bag over my shoulder and held Jo’s as she slipped into her heavy jacket. Mom handed me a set of keys. “Here, take Henrí’s truck. It will be safer in all this snow than my car.”

“But—”
I started, not wanting to accept anything from Henrí.

“No ‘buts.’ I talked to him, and we decided it would be best. Please be careful, drive safe, and call me to let me know that you got there okay. You know I won’t sleep if you don’t call.”

“But, Maman—”

“Do not argue with your mother, Kristopher.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll see you in a few days,”
I surrendered, taking the keys from her and then leaning in to hug her and kiss her cheeks. Then I moved to Henrí and civilly shook his hand. “Thanks, Henrí.”

He nodded, not bothering to say anything. He didn’t need to; we had an unspoken understanding: I was Marlene Letang’s son, and I came first in her life. Of course he would give up his truck for a few days because it was best for me—because Mom asked him to. It wasn’t fair to him, but he knew that when he married my mother. It’s why she kept her last name when they wed, and why Henrí and I were never anything more than polite toward each other.

Jo meekly said, “Thanks again for letting me stay here last night. I really appreciate it, Mrs. Letang. It was so nice to be able to meet you.” I hesitated for just a second, to see if Mom would be a little more cordial in her treatment of Jo since our discussion this morning and to see if she would give her a friendly goodbye. When Mom didn’t react—she didn’t even move to shake her hand again—I guided Jo through the door with my hand at the small of her back. I figured if we hurried this along, we could avoid as much awkwardness as possible. I guess it would take a little longer for Mom to warm up to Jo.

We piled into Henrí’s truck, and I turned it on and allowed it to idle for a bit before we fastened our seat belts and I put it in drive. It was around eleven here in Québec, and with losing an hour because of the time difference, we’d make it into Shippagan by eight or nine, depending on traffic and the speed limit. I didn’t want to get there too late, because tomorrow would be busy and we’d need to get in a full night of rest.

“Kris,” Jo began to ask quietly as I pulled out of the driveway, the hesitation blatant in her voice. “Why don’t you like Henrí?”

“Huh? I like him,” I dismissed, giving her the easy answer.

“Coulda fooled me,” she mumbled under her breath, gazing out the window at the passing sights rather than look at me.

“I do,” I countered calmly. “I like that my mom has someone around now that I’m not at home any longer.” I shrugged, trying to find a way to explain the situation without having to go into detail. “It’s just that, my mom wanted him to act like my dad, and she wanted to me to treat him like my father. And he isn’t.”

“Oh.” She paused for a minute, and I thought the discussion was over. But it wasn’t. Jo looked over at me and pressed, “So, what’s the deal with your dad, then?”

I glanced at her as I pointed the truck in the right direction, knowing the way well even though I didn’t make it out that way as often as I would have liked. Perhaps a little more gruffly than I meant to, I asked, “What’s with all these questions all of a sudden?”

Jo shrugged with one shoulder, looking back out the window. “I didn’t want to ask before, because I know what it’s like to have a messed-up, dysfunctional family. But I figured since you were willing to bring me home and show me this part of your life, then this was a broachable subject now. I was just curious, because you never talk about him. And you’ve never not talked about something with me before.”

“I just don’t like to talk about it, okay?”

She wouldn’t let the subject drop. “Is he dead, or just not around? Because you know I’ll understand either way, Kris. I’m not gonna judge you. Hell, I don’t have room to judge anyone.”

The earnestness in her voice is what made me answer. Jo was right; she did kind of have a similar background, and with all of her experience with her family, she’d be the one person who would get it. And I knew that she wasn’t asking to intentionally bring up these bad feelings, but I didn’t like to talk about it. There was a reason I didn’t like to talk about it and why I didn’t expound further. “At this point, I’m not sure. And I honestly don’t care.”

She finally let it go, for which I was thankful. Instead of questioning me again, she pulled out a book that she had to read for her comp class in order to write an essay. We rode in silence for a while before Jo had to put the book down, declaring that reading was giving her motion sickness after she ate so much at breakfast.

I suggested that she try to sleep, especially since she didn’t really get a lot of rest the night before. Agreeing that it was a good idea, she tilted her head back against the headrest and closed her eyes, wrapping her arms around her stomach and nestling in to get comfortable. She was asleep in minutes.

Once we were outside the city, I turned the radio on and very quietly played some music as I concentrated on the road and thought about what the next few days were going to be like. I never did get to make it back to visit Luc’s grave on his birthday. Suzanne and Charlene both did religiously, and apparently Burrows and his girlfriend were going to be coming down, too, because the break allowed it. I knew Alex had been Luc’s closest friend on the Canucks, and he and Nancy remained close friends with Charlene.

It wasn’t going to be an overly sad day, or at least it wasn’t supposed to be. I mean, Luc wouldn’t have wanted that. Suzanne said she was going to make cupcakes. But no matter what, it was still going to be a cheerless occasion, because we would be celebrating Luc’s birthday without Luc. He would be twenty-three tomorrow, if his accident hadn’t’ve happened.

We had been on the road for about two hours and were making pretty good time. Suddenly, I was startled and pulled out of my thoughts as Jo snapped awake and gasped as she reached out for something to hold onto. My gut reaction was to slam on the brakes; thank goodness that the car behind me wasn’t tailgating. I carefully pulled the truck over to the side of the road, at least as far as I could considering all the snow, threw the truck into park, and clicked on the flashers.

Jo threw open the door and leaned out, still restrained by her seatbelt, and vomited onto the side of the road.

“Are you okay?” I frantically asked her, immediately reaching for the bottle of water in the cup holder and then opening the glove box to look for napkins or tissues or something that could help her clean up.

She leaned back inside and accepted the water and rough, brown paper napkins. Jo poured some water in her mouth, swishing it around before she spit that out, too. Closing the door to the truck, she wiped her mouth and slumped back in her seat. Her voice was raw as she responded, “I’m fine. I’m sorry if I scared you.”

“No, you’re not fine. You just puked, Jo.”

“If I’m obviously not fine, then why did you bother asking if I were okay?” she quipped lightheartedly, trying to play off what just happened as she played with the napkins in her hand.

“Wrong question, then.” I rolled my eyes at how she was deliberately trying to downplay how she had just gotten sick. “What’s wrong? Were you still feeling carsick? Is it because you ate too much?” When Jo didn’t respond in the affirmative to either of those questions, I thought I had my answer. “Did you have another dream that upset you?”

“Please, Kris, can we not do this right now? This whole trip was supposed to be about you, not me.”

“The trip doesn’t matter, Jo, or why we’re here or where we’re going. If something’s bothering you, you can tell me and we’ll talk about it,” I replied, once again reassuring her that I’d always be there for her when she needed someone.

“I don’t want to,” she said quietly, resting her elbow against a ledge on the door and propping up her head. “Let’s just keep driving, so I can brush my teeth when we make a pit stop.”

“Not talking about it doesn’t make it go away,” I reminded her, something that I had told her plenty of times when she moved in and started having these nightmares in the first place. She didn’t want to talk about them then, either, but eventually she had opened up about them.

“Well, excuse me if I don’t listen to you when it comes to what to talk about and what not to,” she snapped, a fiery spark in her eyes.

I looked at her with my mouth hanging open, wondering where this attitude suddenly came from. Jo hadn’t talked to me like this since we first met back in October and she bitched at me for trying to insert myself into her life and give her advice and guidance. But I thought we had worked through that and had been able to communicate effectively with each other since then.

She bit her lip like she does when she knew she said something she shouldn’t have—which isn’t often for Jo, because she usually speaks her mind and is unapologetic about it. So of course she didn’t apologize. I didn’t bother with saying anything either as I put the truck back into gear and pulled back out onto A-20, continuing toward New Brunswick.

The drive was painfully quiet as we continued on our way. It wasn’t until we stopped for a bathroom break at a stop point along the way that Jo finally looked at me again. “I’m sorry, Kris. I shouldn’t have talked to you like that.”

I tried to brush it off. “You obviously aren’t feeling well, and you dreamt and it irritated you. It’s fine.” I began to walk away toward the building, but she tugged on the sleeve of my jacket and stopped me.

“No, Kristopher, it isn’t fine. No matter what, I shouldn’t holler at you like I did.” She tangled her fingers with mine. “Forgive me?”

“Yeah. Of course. If you wanna talk, you know you can talk to me. About anything.”

“I know. Maybe later,” she mumbled, walking with me toward the rest stop.

9 comments:

  1. Ohhh Mme Letang doit etre contente pour son fils... and loosen the apron strings a bit. He's such a mama's boy!

    Huh, so that’s where that went. As much as I loved Jo wearing my clothes, I liked wearing my clothes, too - LOVED this line.

    Fingers crossed she's ok and Mme Letang didn't put chilli powder or something in the crepes... wouldn't put it past her. NB is a loong way if the weathers not good.

    Loved it as always, do I have to say more?

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  2. oooo why'd she vomit???
    are there gonna be any little JoTang's walking around??? or should i say crawlin around????

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  3. I'm trying not to have an OMG BABIES moment right now. That would just be immature and ridiculous. But, I couldn't help it- because honestly that was my gut response. I'm pretty sure she just had another shitty dream but I am dying to know what it was about if she snapped at him like that. Very intriguing, Jay, very intriguing.


    Update soon!!

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  4. why do i always feel when someone throws up (and they are not drunk) that they're pregnant? I loved this post and I love Kris and Jo. You are an amazing writer and uh I cannot explain how much i love this story.

    please update soon!

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  5. WOOT! Finally caught up and jeeze I missed a ton!

    But OMG! I totally agree with Tillie. My first thought was "HOLY MOTHER BABIES BABIES BABIES!" But then I calmed down and got rational. It was probably just some frightening dream =/

    And and and! My interest is so peaked for two reasons. One, the backstory on Kris' dad. And two, why Jo snapped at him. So much to discover! Wonderful as always, Jay(:

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  6. Hmmm, I agree, wrapping your arms around your stomach and throwing up are always hints of an impending pregnancy. But we'll have to wait and see.

    I love the scene where Kris pretends to be poisoned, when guys do that kind of thing it's so devastatingly attractive. Nothing sexier than a sense of humour.

    I was kind of taken aback when Kris told his mom he was in love with Jo, either he and his mom are really close(which is true) or he's really deeply in love. Not afraid of commitment anyway.

    As usual, your attention to detail is awesome. I follow the Canucks so I have heard the name of Alex Burrow's gf before, but clearly you do your research. Just adds that extra dimension of reality. Or perhaps you are dating Kris Letang?

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  7. Oh God please not pregnant! That's just what they need a little more stress. Plus if she thinks Mrs Letang didn't like her before...

    Kris is so careful with condom usage, and she is a smart girl she must be on some kind of birth control!

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  8. I am on the "not pregnant" bandwagon because between car sickness and too many crepes, you could maybe get really sick.

    Mama Letang - who knew? Not surprised at her criticalness nor protectiveness. I hope she'll come to grips with it, especially since Kris told his mom he "L" word Jo.

    Anxious to see how the rest of their visit goes, and how Jo meshes with the rest of Kris' peeps!

    Fabulous, as always, and a rather long comment for me!

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  9. "“You can wait just like everyone else, Kristopher.” She said it with a smirk, which let me know that I could get away with it."
    ^^
    I love how much of a momma's boy he is!! That's hilarious!

    Also, I wanted to comment on their conversation but I got really sucked into it... it was so realistic.

    I don't like that his mother doesn't yet approve of Jo but I mean... as a single mom, I can only imagine what I'll be like when some girl comes into Row's life and starts stealing my time.
    Eventually there comes a time when you have to let go but... I don' think any mom ever wants to do that.

    Also, the think with Kris and his step-father makes me sad. I mean, it sucks that he didn't have a father growing up, but it sucks even more that this man is still nothing more to him than 'his mom's husband'.
    I wish Kris had that relationship somewhere in his life.

    Ok so I don't know what I'm more worried about... going to see Charlene, going to see Luc, or Jo being so sick.

    I don't know what they'll do if this is a sign of baby-ness or sickness; hell, I don't know what I'LL do if it's a sign of either one of those things.

    I should write more because this was awesome but... I need to go read more... YAY!

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