Hockey Is My Boyfriend: Part Three

by Ting, Melanie

  I walked into the coffee shop and saw Jimmy waiting there. He looked a little uncomfortable, as this place was more suited to granola-y neighbourhood moms than fancy NHL superstars. I walked up to the counter and got a cup of tea. Jimmy tried to pay for it, but I waved him off.

  “I have just enough in my bank account to pay for this,” I told him. We went and sat down at his table.

  “Kelly, look—I can’t tell you how sorry I am for what happened. Is there anything I can do to get your job back?”

  “Well, sure. Why don’t you jump into a time machine, spin it back 48 hours and answer my fucking question?”

  He intertwined his fingers nervously. “I know, I was a jerk. I was just so surprised to see you there, and it hurt me. But I should have treated you like anyone else.”

  “No shit, Sherlock. But you’re so important now, that it doesn’t matter how many little people you step on.”

  “That’s not fair. You know nothing about me anymore.”

  I drank some tea. “Are we done here? Because I have to work on my résumé.”

  He looked genuinely miserable when our eyes met. But that wasn’t moving me at all. He shook his head. “No, actually I have a question. When did you and Phil break up?”

  I carefully examined the wood grain of the table. “We didn’t.”

  “Oh really? April seemed surprised I even thought you guys were together.”

  I didn’t know what to say. But it probably didn’t matter anymore. After what had happened, there was no way either of us could ever care again. “We never broke up because we never went out again.”

  “So, why did you let me believe you were getting back with him?”

  “I never said that.”

  “You never denied it. You implied it.”

  He was pushing me too far. “I did it because you got it in your head that you needed me, and I knew what you were like—you’d never give up unless you thought I was with someone else.”

  Now his expression changed again. He was looking hopeful, and that was bad news. “So you did love me more. I knew it. I was so sure of that, and I was right.” He reached over and tried to hold my hand, but I pulled back. “Why didn’t you choose me?”

  “Because I didn’t think I was the right person for you. You need someone different.”

  “That’s not your decision. I told you that back then.”

  I never wanted to tell him the rest, but if I didn’t end things completely, we’d never be done. “Well, that’s not all. I could tell that you expected me to say yes, that you never had any real doubts. I found that arrogance troubling, that you wanted me but you took me for granted.”

  “Kelly, that’s not true. It’s still you, it’s always been you for me.”

  “Jimmy, look how you’ve turned out. What you did last night was not a one-off. I know a lot more about NHL players now. They’re coddled and protected by their organizations; they’re adored and mobbed by fans—especially the big stars. Even their families feel proud and grateful. So, if they make mistakes—it gets excused. If they piss all over the little people, they have nobody to tell them they’re being assholes.”

  “That’s not fair. How was I supposed to know you’d get fired over something that small?”

  I shrugged that off. He was right, but he was only excusing himself all over again. He needed to start taking responsibility. I was overflowing with emotion, but I wanted to tell him everything—once and for all. “Look, I was in love with you, but I was in love with the guy I met back at hockey camp. He was a little cocky, but he was so sweet. He let me nap in his bunk and saved me the best seat at movie night. The bigger you get, the more you change. You’ll never be that sweet guy again.”

  Today was clearly my crying day, but before I started up again, I left the café.

  43

  Saved

  James

  * * *

  We were flying home from Edmonton when Baller flopped into the empty seat beside me.

  “Can I join in? Or is this pity party only for one?”

  “What are you talking about?” I asked, pulling off my headphones.

  “I thought I was going to trip over your bottom lip. You’ve been acting like someone stole all your candy. Or in your case, whatever high protein natural supplements you’re eating this month.”

  I debated whether I should talk to Baller or not. He knew Kelly, so maybe he could help. I leaned closer and quietly told him everything that had happened, even though it made me look bad.

  “Shit.” He made a face. “Yeah, getting her fired is probably not going to get you guys back together. And that’s apparently what you still want.”

  I nodded. Dating Astrid had only proven once again that I was a social freak. It was easy to find attractive girlfriends, but finding someone I could trust was a lot tougher. And Kelly had proven that with her brutal honesty.

  And she was right. Sometimes I forgot how privileged my life was and how lucky I was to have gotten everything I’d wanted. I remembered that what I loved about her was that she loved me for who I was—before all the NHL stuff. Yet I had tried to buy her love with expensive gifts and trips. I should have known better. I couldn’t help but think that if Kelly were around to center me, I would be a better person now.

  “I know it’s too late. She basically said she could never love me again. But do you think I could maybe earn back her good opinion of me somehow? I was thinking I should get more involved in Blackhawks charity work—I do the hospital stuff like everyone else, but something more.”

  “Well, I have a suggestion,” Baller said. “I didn’t mention this before, because first you were all grouchy, and then you were dating the blonde ballbuster. Last fall, Kelly asked me to sponsor this hockey team. They sounded like some Bad News Bears deal. She wanted to get them extra ice time so they could work on their skating.”

  That was so Kelly. She was always trying to help the worst kids at camp. Come to think of it, the times she was sweetest to me were when I was feeling low—like after the NHL awards.

  Baller pulled up a photo on his phone. There was Kelly standing behind this ragtag team of boys and girls, all of them grinning a mile wide and wearing these green jerseys.

  “Tyler’s Organ Donors? That must have gotten a lot of chirping from the other teams.”

  Baller laughed. “Kelly said they use it as their war cry. They want to turn their opponents into organ donors. They’ve won only three games, but apparently it’s three more than last season, so everyone’s happy.”

  “I can’t believe you’ve been talking to her all this time.”

  He shrugged. “She’s the one who called me. You know it’s not like that.”

  I nodded. We were teammates. Although if I fell off the face of the earth, I was pretty sure he’d be hitting on her five minutes later.

  “I thought she got back with her high school boyfriend, but she didn’t. Do you think I still have a chance to get back with her?”

  “I dunno. Why did she break up with you in the first place?”

  “A whole bunch of reasons. She was worried about the whole lifestyle in Chicago. Mainly because I’m an arrogant idiot—not the nice guy I used to be.”

  Baller blew out a breath. “Who is, really? The game changes all of us.”

  We both sat in silence for a bit, thinking.

  “Freeze, maybe if you dialled things down a little. Like not making her move in with you and act like you’re all married.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You’re so intense. It’s all or nothing with you. I know from my personal experience that I run a mile once chicks start talking about china patterns and babies.”

  “I never talked about china patterns,” I protested. But I had talked about babies. Shoot. I liked to get things nailed down, it was the way I was.

  He laughed at me. “You wuss. You’re so easy to read. But Kelly’s a normal person. Maybe if she had another reason to come to Chicago.” He
paused. “I don’t know. You know her best, can’t you figure out what she really wants?”

  “She’d like a job that does something with hockey.” I knew Kelly’s first choice would be to play hockey—but I couldn’t create that opportunity for her in Chicago.

  I started to worry again. Now that she had no job how was she going to survive? But then I could hear Kelly’s voice in my head telling me not to stress about her. I knew she was smart, beautiful, and resourceful—she was going to find something. I couldn’t let my anxiety take over here. Baller had given me a starting point, and I could take action and not have to sit around and stew about things.

  Meanwhile, it looked like we were going to make the playoffs this year, so I’d have to focus on that.

  * * *

  April saw my newly free time as an opportunity to get help with wedding planning. I had picked up a job as a fitness trainer at the rec centre, but I didn’t have many hours yet. It was raining, so we took a bus downtown where she had various appointments set up.

  “But you know I’m not good at this stuff,” I protested.

  “Yes, my first hint was when you picked that blue bridesmaid’s dress—just because it was Canuck’s blue.”

  “Ben likes hockey too,” I muttered. Everyone had positive associations with colours, I just shouldn’t have told April mine.

  “Well, I wanted a second opinion on my food choices. Third actually, since Mrs. Cho is meeting us at the hotel at lunchtime. It’ll be delicious. We get to try all these appetizers and entrées. But I need moral support when she’s there.”

  “Free food does sound good,” I agreed. My current food budget was limited to Sapporo Ichiban. And Mrs. Cho was a forceful personality. I figured April was her match though.

  “Also, if there’s one thing you do know, it’s flowers. So I can use your help in choosing my floral arrangements.

  “Okay, sure. Too bad we couldn’t get everything from my dad.”

  “I know. Your dad was a real artist with flowers. My mom’s been complaining that she can’t find anyone as good in North Van. Where are your parents now?”

  “They’re in Malaysia now. I talked to them a week ago.”

  “That’s so exciting. I’m going to be travelling with Ben after we’re married.”

  “Really? What about your job?”

  “Well, since the series got cancelled and I don’t have any freelance styling gigs coming up—I’m getting involved in the Ben’s family’s business.”

  “Wow.” The Cho family business was a vast and mysterious import/export empire. “But aren’t you worried about nepotism? Like getting jobs you’re not qualified for because of Ben?”

  April squinted at me. “I presume you’re asking because of what happened to you?”

  “Well, yeah. A lot of people hated me at work. I got a job because Ross Laurie thought I could do it, and because…” I hated admitting the next part, “…I had a certain look.”

  “But you’re forgetting the fact that the network president was right. You could do that job. Your final interview with the goon was great.”

  “I guess. I was getting better anyway. But it doesn’t change the fact that people were constantly trying to undermine me. It was brutal.”

  “I talked to Ben. I would only do a job I am good at. Luckily that covers a lot of things.”

  “You are so confident,” I said enviously.

  “You are too, Kelly. You’re confident about your hockey skills, right?”

  I nodded.

  “Have you done your demo reel yet?”

  “Kinda.” I’d updated it, but it wasn’t properly edited.

  “I think when you look at it, you’ll see how much you’ve improved. You have a great work ethic, and you could succeed at anything you put your mind to. You’ve always worked hard.”

  “Wow, thanks, April.”

  She smiled at me. “I know you’re a little down now. But when you take stock, you’ll know you have a lot to offer. You’re already more confident than you used to be.”

  I felt a lot better now. April sensed this and hit me with the list of things we were doing today.

  “Holy crapola. I can’t believe all this stuff. I am never getting married.”

  “Seeing as you haven’t dated anyone in months, I would say you’re well on your way. Say, Ben has this cousin who is some kind of programming guru, would you be interested in possibly—”

  “Nope.”

  “But he does statistics on Canucks games. And he’s cute.”

  “N-O, April. Working on your wedding is enough to turn me off marriage for years and years.”

  “When Mr. Right comes along, you’ll change your mind,” she replied confidently.

  But I was more interested in finding Mr. Right Job.

  44

  Bullseye

  Three months later

  * * *

  I lay on the ground, with my legs spread wide and pulled the trigger on my small-bore rifle. The loudness of the shot was always a shock.

  Missed the target. Damn. Were you supposed to shoot in time with your heartbeat? Or was that movie fiction? Focus. Aim. Shoot. When you actually hit the black circle, it disappeared. One target. Miss. Miss. Another target. Then I seemed to be out of ammo. I looked at Lief Jacobsen beside me. He had taken out his five targets long ago and was watching me with amusement. He signalled me to get up; I did so awkwardly, and we skied up to the finish.

  Leif smiled down at me. He was an extremely tall man of Norwegian ancestry, and in his outfit looked like a colourful tree trunk.

  “Well, Kelly, your skiing was good, but your shooting brought you many penalties. I don’t think we would see you on the podium.” He carefully explained how the biathlon scoring worked.

  I winced. “I have to say that lying down with skis was painful. It’s very hard on the knees. And then to have to shoot as well—phew. It’s a very challenging sport that requires a lot of different skills at once.”

  “I think it’s your first time to shoot a weapon. Am I right?” Lief asked.

  I nodded. “Unless Supersoakers count.”

  Lief’s face went solemn, which meant he was going to make a joke. “Boyfriends always behave better if they know you are handy with weapons.”

  “Well, I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks to Lief Jacobsen for guiding us through the biathlon. This is Kelly Tanaka signing off for the Chill Guide. Now where’s that sauna?”

  Eric gave the signal, and the cameraman stopped filming.

  Lief scowled at me. “Saunas are more of a Finnish thing.”

  Doing Nordic sports had taught me these countries had all kinds of feuds going on that I had no clue about. “Oh, sorry.” I scoured my brain to think of something to appease him. “Hey, I really like those Norwegian Forest Cats.”

  He rolled his eyes and walked away with as much dignity as a man in neon spandex could muster.

  Eric laughed. “Kelly, your charm could alienate an entire planet.”

  “Pffft. I bet he’d be nicer to me if I was handy with weapons.”

  Rudy, our cameraman, chortled. “But you’re not, so we can all treat you like our annoying little sister. Did you want to see the playback? You look like a road-kill frog lying on that shooting mat.” Rudy’s main goal in life seemed to be catching me at my worst angles. However after the blatant come-ons and sexism of my last job, his brotherly teasing was a huge relief.

  Eric looked around. “Time to wrap up our Whistler filming for this season. There’s not much snow left.” It was the first day of May, so we were lucky to have been able to film this long.

  “Yeah, you’re right. I think there’s still a lot of snow on the glacier, but we’ve done the skiing parts already.”

  Eric Weinberger was a filmmaker who had gotten this idea to make humourous how-to videos about all the Olympic sports. And since he was one of those rare people who had seen both my car commercial and my work on C2C Sports, he decided I would be a good host. The premise w
as that as a reasonably coordinated person, I would try each sport and show how really difficult they were. It was semi-scripted, so the experts knew what was going to happen and what they needed to say. However, Eric’s favourite part was when I screwed up spectacularly. He said my “physical humour” was going to draw eyeballs. The theme of my career so far seemed to be people waiting for me to make a mistake.

  Eric looked at his Moleskin. “So, next week we’re doing figure skating, right?”

  I groaned. Although skating was my strength, once Eric showed me the little glittery outfit I’d have to wear I wasn’t as keen. And everyone knew that figure skates and hockey skates were completely different animals.

  Rudy laughed nastily. “I want to see her do a jump. Crash city. I’ll get the underpants-cam ready.”

  I groaned. “The bruises alone will be spectacular—landing on ice in only a pair of tights equals pain. Okay, send me the shooting schedule so I can get time off work.”

  The Chill Guide was a great project to work on. The only problem was that it didn’t pay anything. Eric and Brian, his partner and the sales/marketing guru on the project, had offered everyone involved a percentage of the profits. But there weren’t going to be any profits until Brian was able to sell advertisers on the web series. He figured we’d get more traffic as we got closer to the Olympics. They had a long-range vision of city guides and were starting with Vancouver. There were also guides to restaurants, clubs, and shopping, all with different hosts. I hoped the whole thing took off because I could use the money.

  Meantime, I was working as a personal trainer at the rec centre and also at a kayak rental place. Those were the jobs that were keeping me in rent and cheap food.