“He has to focus on the games,” I explained. “So right now, he can’t have a social life.”
April’s expression was skeptical. “I guess he’s not allowed to see his family or teammates either then?”
“No, of course not. It’s just me.” And she was getting too close to why I had been pissed off when Jimmy had told me. It was like one minute, I was so important to him because of my superior hockey understanding, and the next minute I was a distraction.
She made a derisive snort. “Sex. That’s the real problem, right?”
“Actually, they’ve done research that proves that sex the night before a game has no effect on athletic performance.”
“How about sex right before a game?” April snickered. “And did you quote that research to him? Because if that’s true, you guys could still be screwing your brains out.”
“April!”
“What? You know you want it. That’s probably why you’re so cranky, because someone took your boy toy away.”
“It’s not Jimmy’s decision, it’s his coach’s. No sex before a game is old-school and bad science, but lots of things in hockey are like that. The morning skate for example—”
April held up a hand. “I’m going to watch the game with you, and that’s all the hockey I can take for one night. In any case, a boyfriend who turfed me because someone told him to would not be my boyfriend for long.”
And that was the real issue. When you dated someone like Jimmy, who was so important to Team Canada, you had to swallow your normal reactions. I couldn’t argue about this whole issue because he’d end up getting upset and distracted. And besides, there was no argument when your coach wanted you to do something, as long as it wasn’t unethical or immoral. I understood that. Yet I also understood April’s position, as a girlfriend it was upsetting to be told you were a distraction. It was doubly upsetting for us because we had so little time together. Long distance sucked.
The Raven was the local pub. It suited our purposes tonight since it had big TVs and we could drink and walk home. We sat at the bar, and the bartender came over. He was Ben Cho, a good friend of Phil’s from swim club. I introduced him to April.
“What are you two lovely ladies doing at a dive like this?”
April pointed her finger. “She’s here to watch the game, and I’m here to keep her from looking like a desperate hockey fan.”
“I’m surprised you’re not at Phil’s place. I think he’s having some friends over, and he has that big 40-inch TV.”
“Not tonight,” I replied. Phil did have a nice TV with surround sound. He had invited our whole tournament team over, but I had decided that going there would be too awkward, since I didn’t want to have to explain everything to everyone.
Things were getting off to a slow start. There was a lot of end-to-end action, but surprisingly little scoring for a junior game. A bit of a goalie duel. It felt weird to see Jimmy up on the screen, and they zoomed in on him a lot when he was taking the face-offs. April was busy talking to Ben and seemed to be having fun. The first period ended with no score.
Five minutes later, the door blew open, and Phil walked in.
“Oh hey, Phil.” I started getting my lies in order.
Phil nodded at Ben. “Thanks, man.” Had he called Phil to tell him we were here?
“April, Kelly,” Phil began. “I hear you’re taking up valuable bar real estate and not drinking much.”
I made a face at Ben, and he gave me a palm up.
“We’re watching the game,” I said. When in doubt, stick to a limited version of the truth.
“And is there some reason you’re not actually at the game?”
“Well, it’s complicated.” That was true too.
“Ahh, that explains everything. I guess Captain Wonderful didn’t come through with tickets.”
I didn’t even deign to answer that remark, so Phil continued. “Do you think you might find it more comfortable watching the game at my place? Some of the team is there, and… we’ve got snacks,” he finished lamely.
“Snacks?” I asked, “Like those almond cookies your mom makes?”
“Pfeffernuesse? Yes, dozens. Unless I left them next to Dillon.”
“Chips? BBQ chips?” I continued.
“Actually that’s why I came out, to pick up more BBQ chips.”
“Well, we might be persuaded to come over, right, April?”
She was in some sort of Matrix eye lock with Ben. “Hmmm, I’m liking the scenery here quite a bit.”
“Don’t worry; Cho’s coming over after his shift. I’ve already made that deal,” said Phil.
So off we went to the place where I had watched hockey games for years.
* * *
Phil
The text came from Ben Cho when I was already feeling Kelly’s absence. We were watching the semi-finals of the World Juniors and celebrating our victory at the Christmas reunion tourney with a little get-together. Last night, Kelly and I had combined for a pretty sweet goal in the third that helped cement the win. My rec room was already full of our old hockey teammates and a couple of their girlfriends. I wasn’t the only one who was thinking about Kelly.
“Where’s Kelly?” asked Marcus. “She’s going to miss the whole first period if she doesn’t get here soon.”
“Haven’t you heard?” asked Lisa, who was going out with our goalie Derek. “She’s dating the captain of Team Canada and going to all the games in person.” Girls always knew these things; they must be psychically connected.
Most of the guys were surprised to hear this and also shot glances at me to see how I was taking the news.
I shrugged. “Yeah, she took me to the game on Sunday, and I met him. No big deal.”
“No big deal? Frechette was a first round pick. He’s probably going straight to the NHL next year. How did Kelly meet him anyway?” Marcus always barged in where normal people with an ounce of tact wouldn’t go.
“At a hockey camp.” How fucking wonderful it was to have to explain stuff I tried not to think about at all. That’s why I was happy to have to pick up Ben’s text message and leave the room.
Ben Cho was a good friend of mine. He was a year older, and we had met in swim club and bonded because his mother was even more intense than mine. Ben lived nearby in a big house on the waterfront, but hardly anybody around here knew him because he had gone to a private school in Vancouver. Ben had met Kelly while we were dating. He was an interesting guy and more sensitive than most of my friends, and that’s probably why he texted me about Kelly. I called him right back.
“Hey, Phil. I can’t talk long ’cause I’m at work.”
“Okay. Kelly’s there?”
“Yeah, she’s watching the game here, with her friend April.”
“Weird, did she say why she’s not at the game?”
“No, no idea. But she’s actually watching the game, she’s not here to socialize or anything.”
“Okay, I’ll come by and see if she wants to come over here instead. Thanks for calling, man.”
“Uh Phil…”
“Yeah?”
“If April goes, I wouldn’t mind dropping by too.”
I laughed. Poor Cho, April Lachance was a heart-breaker crossed with a ball-buster. But I was sure the ride was fun while it lasted, and who was I to deny him his opportunity?
“No probs, Cho. Come over after work.”
I knew Kelly wouldn’t move during the game, so I left just before the first period ended and pulled up in front of the Raven. She wouldn’t explain why she wasn’t at the game, but she looked upset. Was there any chance they had broken up? But would she still be watching the game then? I got a sense it was more complicated than that and also that this whole thing wasn’t Kelly’s idea. She and April agreed to come over though, and that was a big step in the right direction.
What the fuck was it about Kelly that turned me into such a moron? Never in my life had
I pursued an ex once she found someone new, but Kelly was different for me. I had a sense we were meant to be together, that it was the way the universe should unfold. I had spilled my guts to her, and she never said a word. Okay, so she had a new boyfriend, but still she could have called me and said something, anything. He certainly hadn’t been that impressive when I met him, he seemed young and immature. And now something had gone wrong. If he didn’t get how fucking amazing she was, he didn’t deserve her.
I kept an eye on Kelly during the game. Outwardly, she seemed normal, joking with Marcus and Hoff and critiquing the play, but I could tell something was bothering her.
There was no denying that Frechette was on fire tonight. He scored the tying goal, and the game went into overtime. Then he scored the winner in a shootout. Kelly didn’t react at all—not a cheer or even a smile. I saw Marcus say something to her and she shrugged. Something was definitely wrong, and I felt the most hopeful I had all Christmas Break.
There was a postgame interview with the asshole. Kelly was watching everything, again with an expressionless face. Then the program switched to a shot outside the arena. All these young girls were cheering with signs like “I ♥ Freshy” and “Go, Captain Crunch!” They spoke to the girls, and they were all giggly and silly, saying things like “James Frechette is such an awesome player. And he’s so cute.” It was nauseating.
Kelly abruptly stood up and moved away from the couch. I was shocked to see a tear roll down her cheek. I had only a glimpse before she quietly slipped out the sliding door. Nobody noticed but me, and for a moment I couldn’t even move. Anger was coursing through my body. What had that asshole Frechette done to Kelly to make her cry? I grabbed some tissues and my shoes, and I slipped out after her.
I finally found her in the woods, shivering as she sat on a log. She didn’t even have shoes on for fuck’s sake. Tears were streaming down her face nonstop. I had never seen anyone cry like that before. And it was only the second time I had ever seen Kelly cry—ever.
“Here,” I handed her a tissue. She grabbed it and wiped off her face.
“I feel so—” Kelly began, but everything ended up garbled in sobbing. She was shivering, so I sat down beside her, unzipped my sweatshirt and wrapped it around her. She tried to say something else, but I couldn’t understand a word. I put my arm around her, and she leaned her head against me. Her familiar body trembled against mine. I stroked her hair and felt her tears hot and wet against my chest. I didn’t know exactly what was wrong, so I just kept saying, “It’s okay, it’s okay,” over and over.
Finally her crying eased up. She turned her tearstained face up to me and said, “I’m not like those girls.” It took me a beat to realize that she meant the stupid puck bunnies on TV.
“Of course you’re not,” I reassured her. She was so far above girls like that.
Poor Kelly, she was hurt and unhappy. It was completely frustrating. I was helpless to fix the problem for her, and it was beyond me to make her feel better. If there was anything worse than holding the woman you love while she cries for someone else, I’d like to know what the fuck it is.
38
Winners and losers
Crying was hugely overrated. It wasn’t cathartic at all. The morning after I had my biggest crying jag ever, I felt even worse. Now in addition to feeling bad about my relationship with Jimmy, I had embarrassed myself in front of all my friends, and then cried on the shoulder of the last person in the world I should be leaning on. After Phil had spilled his guts to me and I had tried to ignore the whole thing, I’d taken advantage of his kindness and caring even though I had a boyfriend. That was user-behaviour at its worst.
What bothered me most was how I didn’t like myself right now. I was like some lame-o version of me: getting props for dating such a big deal player, moping because her boyfriend was away, crying on her ex-boyfriend’s shoulder. This was all the kind of behaviour I despised in girls, and now it was mine. Maybe that was why seeing those silly puck bunnies on TV had triggered something in me.
My first experience with puck bunnies was at an away game in Squamish, back when I played with the boys’ team. I think we were all about sixteen. Phil had a tremendous game, as usual, and scored three goals. After getting changed, Phil and I were heading down the corridor outside the dressing rooms to meet his dad in the lobby when these two girls stopped him.
“Hey, Fifteen,” they called out. That was Phil’s number.
“Great game. That was an awesome hat trick,” said one of them. The girls were kind of pretty. They wore skinny jeans, puffy jackets, and a ton of makeup.
I paused, not sure if I should wait for Phil or keep going. But then one of the girls boxed me out of the conversation, so I went on to the lobby.
“Where is he?” Phil’s dad asked impatiently after we’d been waiting a few minutes. Phil and I usually came out together.
“He’s talking to some girls back there.” Frankly, it was weird that they were being so nice to Phil when he had almost single-handedly defeated the home team. Shouldn’t they be cheering for the Squamish guys?
Mr. Davidson wasn’t the world’s most patient guy, and after a couple of minutes he headed off to get Phil himself. The two of them emerged through the doors, and Phil had a strange expression on his face. We packed our gear into the back of the SUV and took off.
“Did you know those girls?” I asked Phil from the back seat.
Mr. Davidson cleared his throat and started talking about the game, so I never found out what was going on until the next day at school. Marcus was the one who clued me in. He had come out of the dressing room and overheard what was going on.
“Those chicks offered to blow Phil. They said he deserved it because he scored a hat trick.”
“Both of them? How is that even possible?” I wondered. I mean, physically it wasn’t really possible because there was only one of him and two of them.
“Oh, for Chrissakes, Sparky, use your imagination.”
“Well, what I really don’t understand is how they even know him.”
“They don’t know him! They’re puck bunnies. When do we play Squamish again? I am getting a hat trick if it fucking kills me,” vowed Marcus.
Puck bunnies? Well, I had heard they came out for the rep teams, but I hadn’t ever seen any at a house hockey game before. But Phil was cute and a good player, so that totally made sense. Although it was pretty gross to think about doing something that intimate with someone just because he could put the puck in the net. There certainly weren’t any guys offering to have sex with me after a good game. Well, maybe that wasn’t strictly true, but any offers had nothing to do with how I had played hockey.
Ever since that day, I never heard anything but scorn for puck bunnies, from both guys and girls. The players might even hook up with them, but they’d always make fun of them later. But I tried not to diss them along with everyone else because I had a strange empathy for them. How could you not be turned on by hockey and awesome hockey players? Watching Jimmy play was what attracted me to him in the first place.
Maybe that was why I felt so bad when I saw those girls with the signs. I had become a puck bunny. I couldn’t support Jimmy with my advice or enthusiasm, and I had been reduced to a sexy distraction. I knew I was different, but it was the inequality in our relationship that was bothering me. I wanted to argue with him about this whole break, but I couldn’t because he had so much on his plate. He was on a bigger stage, so whatever I wanted came second. And of course, I wanted to be with him. While I understood what was going on, I resented it.
But there wasn’t any point in dwelling on all this crap. Our break was a chance for me to see more of my friends. I hung out with April and Karen. Charmaine was now home from a trip to Hong Kong, so I saw her too. The only embarrassing part was that news of my crying jag seemed to have spread far and wide, and nobody mentioned Jimmy, hockey, or relationships. And it was killing April not to pass judgement on all three of those things.
&nb
sp; Phil was refreshingly different. Despite having to launder my tears and snot from his wardrobe, he treated the whole incident like a big joke. We went for a run and a workout together. Afterwards he asked me, “So are you coming over to watch the final tonight, or are you going to have another crying fit?”
“Oh, screw off, Davidson. It’s not like I cry all the time. Of course I’ll come over, it’s no big deal to me.” When I glanced over, he had a slight smile on his face. I realized he had goaded me into coming over. And I could also tell he was pretty happy Jimmy and I weren’t together, even if he didn’t know whether it was permanent.
Ben and April came over too. We all watched the game for a bit, but the first period was flat with no goals. April wasn’t interested at all, and even I was a little bored. So we left the game on and played some pool and air hockey, only pausing to watch the goal replays. I felt distanced from the whole tournament. I wanted Canada to beat the Russians, but I wasn’t going to go all crazed fan. Let the little girls cheer Jimmy on. Of course he played well, and scored the ultimate game winner on a power play, but whatever. The bigger Jimmy got, the less he was the guy I knew. Or was I protecting myself from further drama with all this detachment? I had no clue, but I wasn’t about to explore my emotional state, just in case. No more tears.
About an hour after the game, Ben was telling us a story about getting mugged in Shanghai when my cell rang. It was Jimmy.
I walked over to the sliding glass doors, for better reception and a modicum of privacy.
“Hey, Kelly, it’s so good to talk to you again. I missed you so much. So, what did you think of the game tonight?” He sounded like he was on a post-victory high and totally hyper.
“Congratulations. Great goal.” I told him. There was a distance, like we were back in separate countries, and our only connection was on the phone.
“So, we’ve got a couple of celebrations lined up for tonight. One’s at a private party room, and then we’re headed out for a club later. It’s gonna be great. You can come and meet me at the hotel, and we’ll head over.”
Hockey Is My Boyfriend: Part Two Page 22