Hockey Is My Boyfriend: Part Three (36 page)

P
hil

I
pulled
up outside Emily’s place, cleared my throat and then dove in. “I think we need to end things between us.”

“Again?” she asked, her voice dry and mocking.

At Christmas, when Emily said she was in love with me, I tried to do the right thing and break up with her. I really liked her, but I didn’t feel the same way. She didn’t seem that upset but it was always hard to tell since she hid her feelings well. To my relief, it was a pretty uneventful parting.

The next week, she asked if we could meet for a drink. She said she had a proposal for me. Once we were settled at the bar, Emily laid things out in her best courtroom tone. “I understand that we’re not in the same place, but I think you’ve got some relationship issues. I’m not going to get into that though.”

Thank God. I hated being psychoanalyzed by women. It always seemed to hinge on my lack of commitment to them and why the fuck that might be. That was what I had enjoyed about Emily: she was a little older, busy with work, and relatively angst-free.

“Anyway, I know you’re not in Vancouver that much longer, and we are very compatible.” She ran her hand over my bicep as she said that. We did have a good time in bed; Emily was very open and up for anything. She continued, “I was thinking that we could be fuck-buddies.”

I laughed at her candidness. “Yeah, I don’t think that’s going to work. You already told me how you feel, Emily. It’s not fair to you.” While she might think she was being original, I’d seen this scenario before. Maintaining a relationship with someone who was already in love with you could only lead to disaster.

“I’m different than other women, Phil. I can compartmentalize my life. I enjoy having sex with you, and you like it too. So why not?”

I shook my head again. Emily had a big sip of her cocktail. “That’s fine. I guess I blew everything by saying the L-word. There was something about you that weekend, a vulnerability I’d never seen before. I thought it was us, but perhaps it had to do with Kelly?”

I was startled to hear Emily mention Kelly’s name. Either Emily was extra observant, or I wasn’t hiding my emotions as well as I assumed.

“I don’t want to talk about Kelly,” I said. “I never talk about old girlfriends.”

“That’s good to know.” Emily smiled and finished her martini. Her pink tongue darted out as she licked the swizzle stick. I felt my cock stirring. She seemed to realize this and rubbed my thigh. “I do admire you for being so noble, but I’m a big girl and I know what I want. You’ve got my number—anytime you want to fuck, or even talk—I’m around. I know how late you work, and I work even later.”

She got up from her barstool. I reached for my wallet, but she put her hand on mine. “I already paid, babe. I invited you out.” She kissed my cheek and whispered, “Don’t forget—fucking is a great stress reliever.”

I didn’t call Emily for weeks after that. I knew it couldn’t work out. Then one night, after a week of overtime, a huge snafu on the site, and some dumb web surfing, I weakened. Emily was completely casual as she invited me over.

“Bad day?” she asked. She offered me snack mix and a trendy craft beer. I took the beer, as long as it was cold and wet that was all I cared about.

“It’s been the week from hell,” I confessed. But I could have handled it if I hadn’t gone online and seen Kelly modelling in some stupid charity fashion show. Everything about that was so wrong. Kelly was someone who was almost unaware of her looks, and now she was completely defined by how beautiful she was.

Emily was sitting beside me on the couch. She was casually dressed in a black sweater with a deep v-neck and jeans. After I’d had a few pulls on my beer, she moved smoothly off the couch and slid between my legs. She undid my jeans, opened them up, and then took me into her hands. I closed my eyes as her skilful mouth bathed my cock in warm oblivion.

And since that night, I’d seen her a few times. She texted me occasionally too, but everything had been completely physical and drama-free. About two months ago, she was in my bedroom and saw the engraved invitation to Ben and April’s wedding on the dresser.

“You’re going to this?” she asked.

“Have to. I’m in the wedding party.”

“Won’t that be awkward for you?”

“How so?”

“Seeing Kelly there—with her fiancé.”

“He’s not her fiancé,” I corrected. Had Emily had tricked me into confessing knowledge I wouldn’t normally discuss? “It won’t be a problem for me.”

“I could be your date if you didn’t want to go alone.” She fiddled with her bracelet as she spoke. “Take it from someone who’s gone to too many weddings solo, all people can talk about is why you’re alone and who they can fix you up with.”

“I think I can handle that.”

“Sure. Though, it might make a better impression.”

I considered this. On one hand, Frechette might have playoff hockey and Kelly would be alone. On the other hand, if I had to watch the two of them all night, it might be more palatable if I at least had a date.

“Yeah, maybe you’re right.” I knew Emily would look classier than any one I might meet in the meantime.

Then, I forgot about all the wedding date with everything that happened in the meantime. My mom got sick, and then I found out that Kelly had been home for weeks without even contacting me. When Emily called about the wedding, I tried to put her off, but she said she had bought a new dress and I got guilted into the date.

And it was a huge mistake. I already had too much on my mind to sort out my emotions around Kelly. Lately I felt like I’d been living in a fog, unable to really feel anything. Yet today, arguing with Kelly seemed to bring me out of that. The fact that I could be angry with her was at least pulling me out of the miasma. Kelly was so special to me, and now she was back. I had no idea what the future for us might be, and frankly I couldn’t concentrate on it now. But I knew what I didn’t want.

I tried to explain this to Emily. “I’m really sorry. There’s just no point in seeing each other anymore. It’s better to end things now.”

Before everything got all pissy. But it was too late, Emily’s expression was more angry than unhappy.

“It’s Kelly coming back, isn’t it? She’s damaged goods. Five minutes with her, and I could see that. What is it with guys who want to swoop in and save the woman? You never struck me as that type, you’re too healthy.”

I didn’t want to save all women. But it hurt to see someone as vital as Kelly like she was now. “She’s not like that. You don’t know her.”

“You’re idealizing the past. I’ve met her twice, and she’s a chameleon who becomes what her latest boyfriend wants her to be. She has nothing going on. What’s the appeal of someone that naïve and dependant?”

I didn’t even bother to answer. The fact that Emily could have that impression showed how much Kelly had changed from her true self.

Emily continued, “Practically speaking, if you really want her, you should wait. The rebound guy always ends up getting turfed.”

Her arguments were starting to piss me off. Even if she was right, everything she said was self-serving.

“I’m really sorry. But this is the end for us—no matter what happens.” Even if I didn’t get back with Kelly, I could never match Emily’s level of caring. I had been wrong to hook up with her. Sex can never be casual and emotionless, no matter how much two people pretend. The fact that she kept arguing was proof. I was willing to cut her some slack because of everything we’d shared, but she was starting to piss me off.

Emily finally got out of the car, but not without a parting shot.

“I don’t understand why someone like you—with so much going for him—continues to chase after a person who prefers someone else.”

“Really, Emily? I’d think you’d understand that better than anyone.”

T
he next day
, I went to the hospital after lunch. Mr. Davidson was in the room, and he was surprised to see me. He said he would head out for a bite to eat and leave us to have some girl talk.

“Ah Kelly, you are here,” said Greta. Even in a hospital bed, she radiated authority. It struck me that in choosing Emily, Phil had found someone like his mother. Greta looked thinner, but otherwise the same.

“Yes. Phil thought you might like me to visit.”

“How kind,” she looked me over intently. “You are back for good?”

I nodded.

“What happened?”

Maybe because my own mother wasn’t here, I felt like blurting out everything. But since Greta didn’t even know the beginning, it would take too long to explain the end.

“Things didn’t work out for me in Chicago.” I felt like I was decades older than when I last saw Greta at the anniversary party. I probably looked older too.

“You young people—everything is so important. But it will pass. What you feel now will be like nothing soon.”

I looked up at her with wondering eyes, since that seemed like the perfect advice for me. But maybe that was the answer to any problem.

Greta cleared her throat. “Kelly, please do for me a favour.”

“Sure, anything.”

“Make sure that Phil has some fun.”

“What do you mean?”

“I am worried about him. Did you see him? He looks like the dog’s breakfast.”

“Yeah, I noticed. But isn’t that because he’s worried about you?”

“No. Before, he already looked like that.”

“What about Emily? He has a girlfriend. Shouldn’t he be having fun with her?”

“Emily? Who is this Emily? If he doesn’t even introduce her to his mother, she is nothing.” She straightened the sheet and skimpy blanket around her. “
Ja
, he always had fun with you as a child.”

I shook my head. “I’m not getting between a guy and his girlfriend, sorry.”

She glared at me. “You said you would help a sick woman, but no.”

Then Phil himself walked in the room. “Oh hi, Kelly. Mom, how are you today?”

“Good.”

“I’m taking the week off work. So I can spend more time with you, and see how the operation goes.

“You are a good boy.” She patted his hand and then yawned. “I am going to nap now. Please come back a little later.”

“Sure. You need to get your rest.” Phil gave her a kiss. She put her hand up to his cheek and smiled at him. “I think that Kelly needs lunch, she has been here a long time.”

“Uh, okay.” Phil looked at me, puzzled.

I leaned in and gave Greta our first-ever hug. “Really subtle, Greta. But I’m still not doing it,” I whispered in her ear. She winked at me.

Phil walked out of the room with me. “So, where should we go? I’m a little hungry myself.”

“I’m sure there are lots of places on Broadway.” Since I’d already eaten lunch, I wasn’t that picky.

We ended up at a little café. Phil had a soup and sandwich, and I had a small soup.

“So, what are your plans for your week off?”

“I’m planning to spend it at the hospital. I can get some work done on my laptop as well.”

“Oh yeah, how is your job going?”

“It’s been crazy. But, things are coming together pretty well. Always a new crisis though. On time and on budget are usually at cross-purposes.”

“It must have been hard for you to take a week off.”

“Yeah, it was. My boss was pissed, but it’s my mom, right? I’ll end up doing a bunch of stuff anyway.”

“You’re doing the right thing.” I wondered more about this whole overwork issue. “Do you like your job?”

“I like it. But my boss is kind of disorganized. Sometimes I feel like his micromanaging is putting more stress on us. Like if he let everyone do their jobs, things would get done. But if he has to double-check every damn detail or changes his mind—it’ll take that much longer.”

“How many hours are you working each week?”

Phil shrugged. “Maybe 70.”

Holy smokers. “Wow, how do you find time for a social life?”

He laughed humourlessly. He was like a fake Phil—without his usual energy and intensity. “What social life?”

I wasn’t sure what to read into that. As long as I’d known him, Phil had always found time to pursue his hobbies: outdoor sports, music, and women. I toyed with my soup, and there was a short silence.

“You need to have more fun,” I blurted, inspired by Greta’s words.

“I see. And you’re passing judgement on my life based on the ten minutes we’ve spoken in the past 24 hours? What gives you that right?”

“Sorry. But you look stressed, and with everything that’s been happening with your mom and work—” I faltered. “Besides, we’re friends, right?”

“Last time I checked, friends contacted each other more often than every six months.” Phil’s eyes burned right into mine.

“Well, I didn’t think I should contact you once I left. You made that pretty clear.”

“But what about after I wrote to you? How come I never heard from you then?”

I shook my head. “Phil, I couldn’t call you while I was with Jimmy. That wouldn’t have been right.”

“You could have let me know you got the CD, and what you thought of it.”

“I love it. I’m sorry I didn’t let you know.” How could I explain what I didn’t fully understand myself—the worry that if I were to talk to Phil, I might have had second thoughts? I tried my hardest to make things work out in Chicago, even if it meant cutting off ties to my old life.

“I was worried, Kelly. You didn’t seem like yourself when I saw you.”

“I wasn’t. I was—” I shook my head. I really didn’t want to get into all the ways I had pretzeled myself to fit into Jimmy’s life. “I don’t want to talk about this. I’m trying to get past this shit.”

“And then you didn’t even bother calling me when you got home,” Phil continued. Apparently there was no end to his grievances.

“Phil, for fuck’s sake—I was a complete wreck. I spent an entire month looking at the ceiling of Ben’s guest room.” Had Ben never mentioned this to him? What the hell did guys talk about?

“I told you to call me if you needed help. Clearly, you did.”

“Did that ever occur to you that I have a little pride? You warned me that Jimmy would hurt me—and he did. Maybe I didn’t want to see you when I was barely holding things together. You, with your perfect job and your perfect girlfriend.”

Finally he dropped his gaze. “Emily is not my girlfriend.”

“Oh, sorry. I guess the fact I see her on your arm at every social event gave me the wrong impression.”

“However great you think my life is, I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t trade places with me.”

I realized I was arguing with someone whose mother was seriously ill. What a brat I was being. “I’m so sorry, Phil.”

Phil shook his head. “Why do we bring the worst out in each other? I can’t believe how whiny I’m being.”

“I don’t know. Maybe after everything we’ve been through, all we can be is honest.” I remembered Greta’s request. “Are you sure you’re not dating Emily?”

“Positive. Look, Emily and I were going out at Christmas, but we haven’t seen each other much since. The wedding was a one-off, insurance, in case—”

I waited but he didn’t finish the sentence.

For Greta’s sake, I asked, “Phil, would you like to go skating tonight?”

“Skating? What are you talking about?”

“I’ll find a rink that’s open, and we can just skate around. For fun.”

“Why are you asking me out? Is this a date?”

“No, of course not. We could go as friends, assuming you still think I’m a friend.” Was he done complaining about what a crappy friend I was, or was there more?

He considered this for a minute. “Yeah, okay,” he replied without enthusiasm.

I arranged to meet Phil at the hospital just before eight. When I got to Greta’s room, he was there with his dad and his brother, Ray. Her operation was the next day, so everyone was tense.

She noticed my skates. “You are playing hockey tonight?”

“No, Phil and I are going skating later.” I figured it would cheer her up to know I was carrying out her instructions.

She nodded. “Like old times.” She reached out for Phil’s hand. “When he was eleven, he came home, very serious. Then, the big announcement: ‘Mom, I am going to marry Kelly when we grow up. She can tell jokes and play hockey. That is what you need in a wife.’”

We all laughed in a semi-embarrassed way.

Greta continued, “Perhaps it is not bad advice.”

I had to nip this thing in the bud. I was in no position to get into any kind of relationship. “You know, Greta, you’re really milking this sickbed thing.”

There was a moment of shocked silence. Then I heard a weird noise—Greta was laughing heartily.

“Kelly has no b.s. in her,” Phil’s dad said with a broad smile. I think that they were all happy to see her laughing. We chatted politely for a few minutes, and then the nurse came by to get Greta medicated for the night and remind us that visiting hours were over.

I waited outside so the whole family could have some time alone. Phil came out first, and we walked down the hall.

“Have you got your skates?” I asked.

“Yeah, they’re in the car.” He was silent until we got to the parking lot. Then he asked, “Did my mom ask you to go out with me tonight?”

“Not exactly. She wanted me to get you to have more fun.”

I was worried that he was going to fly off and refuse to go with me now, but he only shook his head. “Moms. Even when they’re sick, they worry about you.”

“You know, everyone is worried about you—Ben, April, me. You don’t look very healthy, and you seem to be working too hard.”

He shrugged. “I’m working. At least the project has an end date. Anyway, I’m off this week, so let’s focus on that.”

We ended up at Britannia, the arena I taught at two summers ago. The old rink was nice, and they had a crazy disco ball reflecting light everywhere. It was almost empty so we ended up skating fast and racing each other around. I could see that Phil was loosening up and enjoying himself.

Afterwards, in the parking lot, I ran over to the big snow pile behind the rink, made a perfect snowball, and decked Phil right in the back of the head. He swore at me. We started pelting each other with snowballs, from opposite sides of the snow pile. It ended when Phil snuck up behind me and gave me a face wash. We were both soaking wet but laughing our heads off. Greta would have approved.

Phil drove me home, even after I protested that I could walk. He cast a dubious eye over the house. “You live here?”

“Not only that, I live in the basement suite. It’s dark and tiny.” Might as well share all the good news at once. “So, you want to do something tomorrow too?”

“Is this also part of my mother’s grand plan?”

“Half.”

“And the other half?”

“The other half is that I had fun.” Would it be too pitiful to admit I didn’t have fun much anymore? “I’ve got lots of ideas for your week off. I found my in-line skates in my parent’s storage locker. We could go around Stanley Park. We could go swimming, you like swimming. Hiking to Quarry Rock—”

“Okay, okay,” Phil interrupted. “It all sounds good, but right now I’m prioritizing my mom. She has her operation first thing in the morning. We should know the results right after. I’ll call you later, and we can hook up.”

“Sure. Text me because I’ll be working. That was fun tonight, right, Phil?”

“Lots of fun.” He was looking more relaxed already.