Part three of the story of Julie Lefebvre and Sarah McCairn - the end of their relationship.

Autumn 1994 - Winter 1995

As the summer faded and the maple leaves turned flaming red, the flames of Julie and Sarah's love remained steady... for a time.
As they had always planned, they were enrolled in Laval University, Julie starting an arts degree in French and English, and Sarah doing a lot of biology and math, with an eye perhaps to a future in kinesiology. And of course, Sarah made the school's varsity women's hockey club and excelled as a lockdown defender with a uniquely physical style.
Sarah shared an apartment with Ann-Renée and Ann-Marie, the friends she had made at summer camp. The two Montrealers had been so impressed with Sarah's game that they had managed to change their plans, enrolling with Laval on short notice and moving to Quebec City for a chance to play with her. The three of them already had incredible chemistry on the ice and Julie loved cheering for them in the stands.
As for the wolf, Julie still lived at home and usually took the bus to school, an economical decision, but she often stayed at Sarah's apartment on weekends, giving her parents the vague explanation that she was "Staying with friends." Not exactly untrue, but not the entire story. Sarah kept suggesting that, if she was serious about their future together, she needed to tell her family about them. Time and time again, Julie truly intended to make a plan to do this, but then she always lost her nerve and said, "I'll do it next week... or the week after."
She never did. But things came to a head on a Monday morning in early November. Julie was finishing her breakfast when she was startled by the sound of angry barks from her father. "Pervers!!" It was coming from the room of her youngest brother René, the only one of them still in high school. She heard his door open and the boy came running into the kitchen, chased by their father, who was smacking the teen over the head with a flimsy newspaper of some sort. "Gros pervers!" he said again. Julie chuckled in spite of herself, assuming that René must have been caught with something naughty.
"I swear, it's not what it looks like!" René said to his mother.
"It looks like pornographie homosexuel!" said her father, the old grey wolf rasping out the last words.
Julie felt a chill.
"Look, I only bought it for the cover!" said René, taking the paper back and showing them the front of it.
It was a trashy looking tabloid with the glaring headline: CHAUD CHAUD CHAUD!! Secrète Campement de Lesbiennes!"
And there, right on the cover, was a grey wolf's rump and happily wagging tail straddling a pair of brown hoofed legs. Her rump. Sarah's legs. Their faces hidden behind the trunk of a tree, thank God! But still! One of their happiest and most intimate moments, laid bare for the world to see! As bare as her furry behind.
"Inside, it's mostly dudes," admitted René. "Ew! Very misleading."
"Well," her mother paused, flummoxed. "Well, I don't care who it is; that's not an appropriate thing to bring into this house, young wolf!"
Her father flipped through it with disgust, "Looks like it was whole nude camp of them. What is wrong with people these days?"
"Alexandre," their mother chided, "Who are the ones sneaking around taking pictures of it? They're just as bad."
Through all of this Julie had barely been conscious of herself moving out of the kitchen and into the bathroom, but she came back to full lucidity as she vomited up her breakfast into the toilet. She retched and heaved until there was nothing left. Then she panted and shook with fearful chills and felt like she would cry, but didn't quite."
"Are you alright in there my baby?" her mother asked.
"No," said Julie. "I'd better stay home today."
"Pregnant, I bet!" said René, clearly just trying to distract from his own situation.
Then Julie did start to cry.
After a day of misery and hopelessness Julie had calmed down enough to go back to school, but Sarah was on a road trip with her team that week and thus out of contact, which made everything worse. Even when Sarah did return, their phone calls became shorter and farther between. She skipped her weekend visits for a few weeks on the grounds of not feeling well (which she truly didn't). Julie knew that something had to be done but still had no earthly idea as to what that something would be, though she did manage to make new plans for her future academic career.
When they finally did see each other again near the end of November, Sarah took her out to a very nice restaurant near the Chateau de Frontenac, that part of the city being particular beautiful and by now fully lit up for Christmas. Julie listened eagerly as the caribou told of her exploits on the ice. It was a nice distraction, as she would rather have talked about anything than what really needed to be talked about. That night they made love (for the last time it turned out) and Julie tried to put everything else out of her mind and concentrate on the feeling of their bodies together - to burn it into her everlasting memory, if nothing else. But once Sarah had fallen asleep, Julie, weeping quietly, pulled away from her embrace, pulled her clothes on and drove home.
The next evening Sarah called her and began with the dreaded words, "We need to talk. Come over please. I'm alone here."
"I'm not feeling so great right now."
"Come over, or I'm coming over to you!"
Julie got in her car and, crying the whole way, nearly running a few red lights, drove to Sarah's apartment, where she found the doe waiting in her room with a perplexed and hurt aspect.
"What is going on?" asked Sarah. "You've been acting weird all month."
"Uh well," stammered Julie, "for one thing, I've decided I'm transferring to the University of Montreal for next semester."
Sarah's mouth dropped open. "What the hell! You hate Montreal."
"No, I don't. I just hate the hockey team... and Federalism."
"Those are the two main things about Montreal!" Sarah shook her head in disbelief. "The bagels are alright I guess."
"I just think their program is better for what I want to do."
"Bollocks!! You're trying to not deal with your issues by moving to another city."
"It's not just that," said Julie. "We need to be careful. You've got an incredible future in sports and you should think about your reputation."
Sarah laughed uproariously at this. "Lass, the hockey establishment might not exactly endorse lesbianism - pink jerseys my arse* - but without us there would be no women's game. So no, I'm not worried about myself in that regard - this is clearly about you."
"Yeah, you're right." Julie admitted. "Listen... there was..."
"Did you see the tabloid cover?" Sarah spat out.
Julie nodded.
"I suspected. Oh Lass, no one's going to know it's your arse on some rag paper. I saw it months ago, had a good laugh. I never told you because I knew you'd react like this. You look great on it though."
Julie's ears went hot. "My little brother bought it, actually."
Sarah's eyes went wide, then she snickered. "For the cover, or what was inside?"
"The cover... he said."
"So," said Sarah, "Either he's lying about that... or he might have had his first proper wank to your glorious rear."
"EW!!"
"So did I, if I'm being honest. Visions of your tight gym shorts conquered my mind as I hit puberty. This is a true spiritual connection I have with your brar; can I tell him about it?"
"Please don't."
"Fair enough, lass. But that still doesn't provide any clarity on us."
And Julie, fighting tears, said, "Sarah, I do love you. And God loves you. I truly believe that. But this is not meant to be. If for no other reason than just that I do want to have babies some day."
"Oh for the love of Christ!" snapped Sarah. "Could we maybe turn twenty before you start in on that? You know, there are other ways to do that. Have you heard of adoption? Or, if that's not good enough for you... you can buy spunk from a wanker!"
"EW!!"
"Just make sure it's not yer brar!"
"EWWWWW!"
Sarah snorted. "Anyway, you're just using that as an excuse. You say yer God loves me, but I don't feel it from what I've heard from some of His followers. But I've met your family and they don't seem like total arse-holes or anything. Maybe they'd be open to new ideas if you talked to them."
Julie started to reply and her mouth hung open as she thought about her parents' verbal flagellation of her brother over so little as an illicit newspaper. "I just can't," she said.
"Well, that's it then," said Sarah. "Enjoy Montreal. The Nordiques are finally looking good this year; it's a pity."
Without another word Julie left Sarah's room and the caribou gruffly closed the door behind her. She walked out and the last thing she heard was a pained scream and the sound of Sarah cracking a hockey stick over her knee.
Their exams started a week later and they both managed to overcome their emotional turmoil to do reasonably well. Sarah had taught Julie the importance of compartmentalizing. You didn't think about hockey when you were doing school work or vice versa. The same might go for academics and one's personal life in the short term. But there were some circumstances where is simply wasn't feasible to live two separate lives, as they found out.
Christmas was difficult for Julie. Though she was surrounded by family, she had never felt more alone. Midnight mass was particularly strange, as it reminded her both of all the good times of the past, but also of the lost love she had just suffered. Everyone could tell there was something off about her, but they probably chalked it up to anxiety over her upcoming move, she who had never been away from her pack for more than a week or so. So she spent Christmastide deep in thought, in a house filled with the joys of others, her parents, surviving grandparents, her brothers, her sister Sylvie and her new fiancé Jacques Leblanc. To this day she still has strange associations of melancholy with the jungle music of Donkey Kong Country: the new state of the art game that was being played by her younger brother. It looked amazing and had a two-player mode and everything, but she had too much on her mind to get into it.
In January, the last thing she did before leaving for Montreal was see her doctor (a Scottish Terrier, though he had no unusual accent) for her regular check up. All was well and he asked if she had any questions or concerns.
She quickly demanded, "I want to go on the birth control pill. Maintenant!"
"Bien sûr!" he said.

* Sarah is referring to the first Hockey Canada women's national team in 1990 who wore pink and white uniforms (with white satin pants) rather than red and white, to look more feminine. The pink uniforms reappeared again in 2007. https://www.historymuseum.ca/blog/a.....versial-jersey