by Melanie Ting
“Oh. Thanks, Val.”
She gave him a big smile. Boiler nudged him and whispered, “It’s already working. She likes you.”
Marty shook his head. “No way.”
His teammate nodded. “I can tell. If you went back there, she’d give you her number. She might even have you over tonight.”
“I’m not interested.” Marty wanted Elaine, and he didn’t need any practice in the meantime.
12
Zen and The Art of Picking Up Women
Marty and Burner were roommates on the road. After their game in Bakersfield, they went back to their room early while some of the guys went out. Neither of them were big partiers. Burner’s girlfriend meant he had an excuse not to party; Marty didn’t party because it wasn’t in his nature.
Marty was looking at his phone while Burner started his meditation session. He used to meditate only in the morning, but this season he did it twice a day. He would put headphones on and sit completely still on the floor.
“Hey, Devo,” Burner called out.
“Yeah?”
“You should meditate too.”
“Why?” It seemed pointless.
“It helps to centre you. Makes you feel more confident. If you get nervous, it’s also good.”
Marty lumbered out of bed. That sounded good, and he was willing to try anything. Burner explained that for beginners, it was just a matter of clearing your mind and trying not to think about anything. “Focus on your breathing. Breathe deeply and count your breaths: inhale on the one, two, three, four, and then exhale on the five, six, seven, eight.”
Marty tried, but meditation turned out to be quite tough. For starters, he was having trouble sitting cross-legged. His legs were big and not very flexible. And thinking about nothing turned out to be pretty hard. He opened one eye and saw that Burner seemed to be on another planet. But Marty’s mind was full of thoughts about the game tonight, what he ate for dinner, and of course, this whole self-improvement project. At first, he thought the idea was dumb, but the sincerity of all the advice moved him. Guys really believed that doing certain things had gotten them girlfriends.
His legs were beginning to cramp up. He tried to stretch them out quietly. He looked over at Burner, who was so completely still that he didn’t seem to be awake. Finally Marty gave up on the meditation altogether and thought about Elaine. Her laugh was so pretty and musical.
After an extremely long time, Burner stretched his neck and arms. He turned towards Marty, his blue eyes wide and twinkling. He looked both rested and alert. “How’d that go?”
“Terrible. I couldn’t stop thinking.”
“Don’t sweat it. You’ll get better each time. Just do one minute, then increase slowly. Maybe you can try lying down next time, that’s easier than sitting on the floor.”
Marty was pretty sure he’d fall asleep then, but he nodded.
Later the two of them were lying in their beds and talking.
“How’s it going with all the advice on Elaine?” Burner asked.
“It’s going good.” It wasn’t even the advice that Marty liked as much as all the support he was getting from his teammates. “Don’t you feel like the team is really different this season?”
“For sure. Lots of different guys and a new coach. The changes are huge. It’s going to be good.”
Marty smiled in the darkness. He and Burner were both optimists. That was one way that they had survived all the losing last season. But it wasn’t the losing that bothered Marty as much as missing the sense that he was part of a real team. Last season there were cliques and constant negativity.
“If you want advice on women, I’d be happy to share what I know,” Burner offered.
“That’d be great.” Finally, advice from the big kahuna. Was this going to be all that tantric sex stuff that Jonesy had mentioned? Since Marty’s thigh muscles were still sore, he hoped it wasn’t like yoga.
“I’ve done a lot of study on human dynamics. The key to relationships is to be yourself.”
Marty felt let down. “What? Is that it? Be yourself? Being myself is not working here, that’s the problem.”
“How can that be? From the first day I joined the team, you were always the kindest person here. If she can’t see that, maybe she’s not worth your efforts.”
Marty considered this. “Okay, maybe I wasn’t totally myself. I got nervous. She’s beautiful. And she’s smart.” And her family was so nice. He had to admit he was attracted to being a part of a close-knit family too.
“You shouldn’t judge people based on their appearances.”
“C’mon, Burner. Stop with all the clichés. You sound like Yoda or something. ‘Her beautiful face, see you should not.’ ‘Yourself, you must be.’”
Burner laughed. “But it’s true, you’re judging Elaine by her looks. Because she’s beautiful, you’re treating her differently than you would any other woman. Nobody wants to be judged by their outside. And beautiful women have it really tough—they get hit on constantly and their defences go up automatically.”
“Well, that makes sense. But how do you know this?”
“My high school girlfriend used to complain a lot about it. It’s one of those first world problems though; you’re not going to get a ton of sympathy from anyone.”
Marty didn’t have much sympathy either, since he was never going to be too good looking. “My biggest problem is that all the advice is starting to contradict itself. Like Bod says to act different, but you’re saying to be myself. So which is it?”
“There is no magic formula. That doesn’t mean that the guys aren’t sincere, every single thing they’ve said has probably worked for them. But every woman is different.”
“Do you think chicks go through this shit too? Wondering about guys?”
“Of course. Women and men aren’t that different.”
Weren’t they? To Marty, women were like another planet, one he had visited only for short trips. They were completely mysterious. He sighed.
“Seriously, Devo. Just relax. If she likes you, you’ll be golden.”
But she didn’t like him. Or maybe she did once, but she didn’t now. “It’s kind of like playing hockey, isn’t it?”
“What do you mean?” Burner asked.
“I dunno. Let’s say there’s a scout at the game, and you wanna make a good impression. So you go full out, but you’re squeezing the stick too hard and you can’t score or even complete a decent pass. But another day, nobody’s around, and everything you touch turns to gold. You’re skating, shooting, making plays—everything’s beautiful.”
“Yeah. That’s so true.”
Marty confessed the thing that was making him saddest. “She doesn’t like me because I’m a fighter. She’s afraid of me.”
Burner was quiet for a long time. “But you’re way more than that—as a person and a player.”
“I know. But Elaine doesn’t know anything about hockey. I think she liked me at first, but now she sees me as a big scary dude.” It was so hard when the outside of you didn’t match the inside. Some of the meanest bastards Marty had ever met in hockey were the smallest guys. Your size had nothing to do with your character.
“You’re a good guy, Marty. We’ll see Elaine again at the calendar launch. The more she gets to see you, the more she’ll get to know the real you. Then she’ll appreciate you.”
Marty hoped so. He closed his eyes and tried really hard not to see a shimmering vision of Elaine.
13
Where’s Knightley?
Elaine pushed open the door of Marty and Nate’s place. These visits had turned into the best part of her day. Knightley raced to the door to greet her, his paws scrambling crazily on the tile floor like a cartoon character. But tonight there was no friendly black cat, and her stomach did a flip-flop. She felt a sudden panic. What if something happened to Knightley on her watch? She switched all the lights on and began to search.
“Knightley? Here, kitty,” she call
ed out. She had come over after class, so it was much later than usual, and he was a creature of habit. But she couldn’t find him in the living room or kitchen. Elaine realized that she didn’t even know his favourite hiding spots because he always shadowed her when she came over.
Her stomach fell further the more she searched. She now believed that the boys had really bonded with the little cat. Of course, Marty liked Knightley from the first moment they had met, but Nate was the one who had specifically requested she add him on Snapchat and send photos of Knightley. Elaine had been completely shocked, but since it was exactly the kind of thing she would have liked, she agreed. She had worried that it might be another come-on attempt and she would begin to receive snaps of his junk, but Nate seemed genuine. He sent back comments after every photo or video, so she knew he was watching them.
In fact, all her communication was with Nate now. She felt bad about that, but she and Marty were clearly not suited for each other. She wasn’t into hockey players in the first place, and a player whose main job was fighting was certainly not her idea of an athlete or a boyfriend. But she kept remembering his sad expression when she admitted she was afraid of him.
Elaine had never gone into the guys’ bedrooms since she felt that was an invasion of privacy, but the hunt for Knightley knew no limits. The door of the first room was closed, which meant a better chance that a cat might have accidentally locked himself in. She opened the door and was greeted by a whiff of stale, slightly foul air. The room was a complete pigsty, but as far as she could see there was no black cat hidden among the dirty laundry and garbage littering the place. She double-checked the rumpled bed and found only random socks. There was a big player photo of Nate Jones thumbtacked to the wall, so she assumed it was his room. What kind of person put his own photo on the wall? Stepping on a condom wrapper on the way out made her shudder.
The door of Marty’s room was open just enough for a cat to slip through. Elaine pushed the door wide and was rewarded by the sight of Knightley curled up by the pillows on a neatly made bed.
“You little monkey,” she declared. Knightley raised his head and blinked. Clearly he had been in a deep, deep sleep and hadn’t heard her come in. He immediately stood up and stretched with back arched and legs straight. She sat down on the edge of the bed, and he marched over for his daily dose of affection. She stroked his head and looked around the room.
Marty’s room was the polar opposite of Nate’s. It was neat and sparse. There was a single dresser and nothing at all on the walls, no mirror or artwork. As she sat on the bed, she could smell the same scent as when they had kissed—pine trees and spiciness. Elaine sighed. That kiss had been so nice, and truthfully she had thought about Marty a lot since that last night. Maybe they should give it one more try? But perhaps he had moved on already.
There were a few framed photos on the dresser, and Elaine’s curiosity got the better of her. She went over to have a look. One photo was of Marty as a little boy; he seemed to be with his mother and grandparents. Another photo was of Marty holding a little black cat with his mother beside him. She looked a little like Marty with straight brows, blue eyes, and the same serious expression. The final photo was an old black and white picture of a farmhouse on the prairies.
Knightley jumped up on the dresser and startled Elaine.
“Am I not paying enough attention to you?” she asked and stroked his head. She felt guilty about poking into Marty’s personal life and put down the frame. Then Knightley leaped up from the dresser to a shelf.
Elaine looked up in shock. How could she not have noticed this before? Marty had built a cat superhighway in his room. There was a series of shelves that went around two of the walls of his room, at various heights.
She had only seen them before on My Cat From Hell, but she knew that high shelves were a veritable kitty paradise. In fact she wanted to build one at the shelter, but they never had the funds or the skills. When she looked closely, she could tell that he had built them from recycled materials and even covered the tops with carpet scraps. Knightley’s head poked out from a shelf well over her head. He was looking down at her with a mischievous expression. For a cat that loved to sit on all the highest perches at the shelter, this must be a dream come true. It was like Marty truly understood Knightley’s personality.
Elaine could feel tears welling up in her eyes, and she blinked them back. This was the best possible home for Knightley, and Marty was the best possible owner.
“She’s in your bedroom, Devo,” Jonesy said as he passed his cellphone over to Marty. “Too bad you’re not there too.”
They were on the bus heading home after the road trip. They had done pretty well, winning half their games, and the mood was good.
Imagining Elaine in his bedroom was both hot and weird. He worried that there might be something embarrassing out there. The bottom drawer of his dresser had a shoebox with all his mementos. The puck from the very first goal he had scored. He had put tape around it like they did at the pro levels. In childish printing, he had written the date and “my first goal.” There were photos of all his hockey teams, from Initiation right up to his last year of Junior. A medal he won for giving a speech in grade four. And the frayed red collar that Cleo had worn. He was a sentimental idiot.
But Elaine wasn’t the type to poke into drawers; she seemed private and respectful. Watching the snaps reassured him.
Finally found Knightley in his lair, she had written over the photos of Knightley peering down from various high shelves in his room. She wouldn’t even have gone in his room except for the cat. But still, imagining Elaine in his room was hot. Marty remembered kissing her after their first date. Her lips had been so soft, and she smelled all sweet and fruity. And he couldn’t help imagining what it would be like to have sex with her. She was all curves and softness, and to have that beautiful face looking up at him as he plunged his cock into her would be unreal.
Marty groaned, and Jonesy chuckled. “I know, man. Thinking about that hot little piece in my bed all naked and begging for it would make me jizz too.”
Hearing those crude words made Marty feel even worse. He really liked Elaine, and he didn’t want to reduce her to a conquest. “Shut up. She’s not like that.”
His roommate gave him a skeptical look. “She’s a hot woman, Devo. Of course you’re going to think about fucking her. Why pretend like you don’t?”
“I respect her,” Marty protested.
Jonesy rolled his eyes. “You wouldn’t be going to all this trouble for her if she didn’t have a beautiful face and a bubble butt. And women have needs too. They think about fucking all the time.”
Lionel turned around and got into the conversation. Marty winced. All he needed was more advice. He felt like his head was already stuffed with information about women.
“There’s actually a psychological condition that describes what Marty is feeling: the Madonna/whore complex.” Not surprisingly, Lionel had played college hockey.
“Awesome. First I strike out with women, and now I’m nuts too.”
Jonesy frowned. “She’s getting a little past her prime now. Didn’t her ex say that doing her was like fucking a piece of gristle?”
Lionel shook his head. “Not that Madonna, I mean Madonna, like the mother of Jesus.”
“Oh,” Jonesy replied. “Then I have no fucking clue what you’re talking about.”
“It’s from Freud,” Lionel said. At Jonesy’s blank look, he continued. “You know, the father of modern psychiatry?”
“Whatever. Just get to the whore part.”
“It’s when a guy gets married or something, and he puts his wife on a pedestal and treats her like a saint or the Madonna.” He paused to make sure everyone was following him. “And then he can’t get it up because he respects her too much. He can only get it up with chicks he thinks are whores and he has no respect for.”
Lionel’s seatmate, Doughy, turned around too. “That’s totally fucked up. If that was true, no marri
ed man would be getting any.”
“I’m just explaining the theory. Of course it doesn’t apply to everyone, but it’s what Jonesy is talking about. Marty likes this chick, but he wants to show her that’s she’s more than just a piece of ass to him. So he feels guilty when he wants to do her.”
Doughy shook his head. “Sex is nothing to be ashamed of. Women think about it all the time too. They want it, and they want you.”
Lionel nodded. “I read about this too. Women have to pretend they don’t want sex, or men will think that they’re ‘too easy.’“
“Too easy?” Jonesy said. “There’s no such thing as too easy in my books.”
“Yeah? Have you ever called a girl a slut? Like someone you’ve done.”
Jonesy considered this. “I don’t think so.”
Doughy laughed. “He’s too busy saying thanks.”
Lionel ignored this slam. “Well, good for you. Because every time a guy does that, he wrecks it for everyone else. What’s wrong with a woman who wants sex and doesn’t have some arbitrary waiting period?”
“What’s an arbit-whatever?” Jonesy asked.
“You know, like she won’t have sex until the third date or whatever.”
Jonesy nodded. “I hate that.”
If Marty did get to go out with Elaine again, it would be their third date. But having sex with Elaine seemed as distant as Lionel’s dream of going out with Rhianna.
14
Twisted Sister
“Bye bye, girls. You be good now and do what Lola tells you.” Elaine and Camille received a fierce hug and kiss from their mom, then watched her disappear through the security gates of the international departures section. They waited as she wove through the maze of barriers and then finally disappeared through the doorway to screening.
Elaine shook her head. “I wonder what she forgot.” Packing had been a whirlwind of disorganization, as their mother wanted to bring presents for nearly everyone she knew. She had packed two gigantic suitcases crisscrossed with orange ribbon to keep them closed. She went back to the Philippines every two or three years. She’d be gone for nearly a month, and their grandmother was nominally in charge. But in reality, the girls would be the ones looking after Lola.