Hockey Is My Boyfriend: Part Three

by Ting, Melanie

  I carefully lifted the Cup and put it on my side of the bed, then got beside Kelly and cradled her in my arms.

  “I can’t imagine being with anyone else, can you?”

  She shook her head and leaned back into my chest. She twisted the ring into place. It looked perfect on her hand. She wasn’t big on jewellery and stuff, but I liked it whenever she wore something I had chosen for her.

  “Then we should be together—forever. Marry me, Kelly.”

  She released a big breath, and I could feel the tension going out of her. “Okay. We can get engaged. But we won’t get married right away, right?” She squirmed around to wrap her arms around me and kiss me properly. “I’m sorry to be such a spoilsport. I do love you—so, so much. I was just surprised.”

  “Well, you never fail to surprise me.” I chuckled. She kissed me again, and I maneuvered us back under the sheets. Now I was lying with Kelly on one side and the Cup on the other. I felt incredibly happy. Almost as happy as when we first won the Cup—I wouldn’t tell her that, of course. But of all the girls in the world, Kelly might be the one to understand my emotions.

  I held her hand in mine and we both looked at the ring. She said, “It’s really beautiful. All these different diamonds. Gosh, it wasn’t super-expensive was it?”

  I groaned. “Of course it’s expensive. That’s the point. The guys on the team would never let me hear the end of it if I bought you some cheap trinket. It’s symbolic, and you’re going to wear it everyday, right?”

  “Yeah, I know, but it’s hard for me. I’m kind of thrifty.”

  I kissed her on the top of her head. “Yeah, my mom loves that about you. See, the timing is perfect because we can tell both our families in person tomorrow.”

  “Oh golly. It’s almost like you planned everything,” she said, shaking her head.

  “Are you being sarcastic?” I tickled her, and she squirmed and giggled. I loved hearing Kelly laugh. I turned onto my back and grinned up at the ceiling. “Another thing to check off the list.”

  “What? Getting married was on your list? That is crazy.” It clearly wasn’t on Kelly’s life list—she had never mentioned marriage. Ironically, that made me want her even more.

  “Not getting married until after I won the Stanley Cup was something I’d decided years ago. But recently I added a new goal.”

  “And what was that?”

  “Getting married—to Kelly Tanaka.”

  She let out a shout of laughter. “That seems very specific.”

  I squeezed my arms tightly around her. “Yeah, but I figured I’m the only guy who had a good shot at it.”

  “True,” she replied, still giggling. “Well, now that we’re engaged, you can relax.”

  Not quite. “So Kelly, how many kids do you want to have?”

  “Jimmy! Stop it. Stop thinking about the future. Let’s just enjoy this wonderful moment.”

  Yeah, she was right. But at least I had planted the idea. I kissed my beautiful, elusive girlfriend. No—my beautiful fiancée. And someday—my wife and the mother of my three kids.

  Three would be perfect. Maybe we would be one of those hockey dynasty families where all the kids go to the NHL. With our genes, how could they miss? But what if we had daughters? Kelly would want to coach girls for sure. Maybe more than three—then we could all scrimmage together.

  “I can tell that you’re planning something new,” Kelly said. “I want you to stop.”

  How did she read my mind like that? Well, maybe I could distract her somehow. The night was hot, and she was wearing this skimpy little blue nightgown with tiny straps. I looked down her cleavage and let out a puff of air.

  “I also know what you’re thinking now, and I like it,” she said, planting a kiss on my chest. Too bad making love with the Stanley Cup in my bed wasn’t on my list because that what was going to happen right now.

  The End

  To go directly to the end of the book, where you can read the Afterword, Acknowledgments, and About the Author, and to see other works by Melanie Ting, click HERE.

  24

  Hockey Night in Vancouver

  Phil

  * * *

  “Nice of you to show, P.D.,” Hoff said sarcastically as I tore into the dressing room. He was in the middle of his game speech, and apparently I had interrupted the big motivational climax. Hoff was treating the championship game of our beer league like the Stanley fucking Cup. I had warned him I might be late, since things were nuts at work.

  I pushed into my customary spot beside Kelly. She smiled at me but didn’t say a word. She appeared to be listening attentively to Hoff, but I knew she was miles away. She liked to get in her own zone before a big game.

  Hoff continued, “I don’t have to tell you guys that the Ice Hogs have had our number all season. But the games have been close, and tonight it’s winner take all. We can beat these assholes.” Then he pulled out a fucking whiteboard and starting diagraming zone entries. I took off my shirt and pants and hung them up, and then noticed Kelly checking me out. She blushed when our eyes met and turned back towards Hoff.

  Despite arriving late, I was all ready except for my skates by the time everyone started leaving for warm-ups. Hoff stayed and came over to talk to me.

  “So, P.D., I need you to step it up this game.”

  I shrugged. “I always play my best in big games.”

  “Really? Because if that semi-final was your best game, then we are royally fucked.”

  “What’s up your ass?” I finished tying my skates and stood up.

  “Jesus, Davidson. You’ve been sucking lately. I traded our biggest scorer so you could be on this team and kiss up to Kelly, and you’re letting me down. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

  “Hoff, you’re taking this way too seriously. It’s only beer league.”

  “It’s the fucking final. Do you not care about winning?”

  I did care about winning—but not winning hockey. I’d been increasingly unhappy about the way things were going with Kelly and that had been seeping into the other parts of my life. I was so busy at work that I hadn’t had the time to do quality stuff with her—like the outdoors stuff she loved. And when I did have free time, the asshole seemed to be taking her on all these exotic weekend trips. I had complained to Kelly that I wasn’t getting equal time, and she made some stupid excuse about not being free at the last minute.

  This was the last game of the season, so we wouldn’t even have hockey together anymore. Hockey was when Kelly was happiest. We could talk after tonight’s game and work out a time to get away together. I’d wrangled the next weekend off, and we could maybe drive up to Tofino, do some camping, hiking, and try some surfing. That would be the perfect holiday for us.

  “Don’t worry, I’m on it,” I told him. We left the room and locked it up.

  As we got onto the ice, I noticed Kelly in the corner talking to someone through the door. I skated closer and took a good look.

  No fucking way. She had invited the asshole to our game! As I skated around, I could hardly see through the rush of white-hot anger. It wasn’t enough that she saw him constantly—now he had to intrude on our limited time together. A fast-paced warm-up cleared my mind a little. I stopped behind the net to clear some pucks and watched them talking.

  Kelly was smiling and laughing. She looked up at him and there was something in her expression—a sweetness. I knew that expression so well, but I’d never seen it directed at anyone else before. It felt like a body blow.

  Finally, she remembered that she had a game and started warming up. I skated beside her, and she gave me a guilty look.

  “How could you invite Frechette to the game? Hockey is our time together!”

  She glared at me. Her mouth opened, but instead of a real explanation, she said only, “Ground rules, Phil. I’m not talking about him. Can we not do this right now? We’re supposed to be getting ready for the final.”

  The buzzer sounded and she skated away, but I c
aught up at the bench. As we sat down, I looked up in the empty stands. The asshole was sitting with some big guy.

  “Who’s the other guy? Door number three in the dating game?” I felt like I hardly knew Kelly anymore.

  “It’s Tyler Ballanchuk.”

  “Two NHL players are watching our championship game? That’s fucking ridiculous. Is there nothing this guy won’t do to kiss up to you?”

  Kelly’s eyes narrowed, and her face flushed with anger. For a moment I thought she was going to whack me. Then she let out a huge breath and turned away from me. She answered without looking. “At least they’ll get to see how good I am. I guess you have more to be worried about though.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  She turned back and her voice was mocking. “You’ve been in a major slump lately. What, like, zero goals in the last four games? And I told Jimmy you were the top player on my team for years. Once he sees you, he’ll think our house team really sucked.”

  I was angry before, but it was nothing to how I felt now. All I could do was throw myself into the game. Playing a hard physical game was the only way to work out all my rage. I scored a goal but felt no pleasure at all. Kelly and I barely spoke on the bench. On the ice, I set the pace, and she was constantly trailing.

  “What’s wrong, Tanaka? Can’t keep up with the boys?”

  She laughed at me and then, next shift out, took one of my rebounds and put it top shelf. Instead of a hug or fist-bump, I skated right by her and said nothing. To my satisfaction, I saw a hurt expression on her face.

  “This is more like it,” Hoff told me on the bench. “Keep up this tempo, and they’re fucked.”

  Despite our best efforts, the game stayed close. Between the second and third periods, Kelly went to talk to the asshole. Dave was yakking away, but I couldn’t keep my eyes off the two of them. She took off her helmet and smiled up at him. They weren’t going to kiss, were they?

  Lately, I’d been forced to confront the possibility that she might actually choose him. If you’d asked me at the beginning of the summer, I would not have believed she could make a decision so stupid, but things seemed to be going that way. Her back was to me, but I saw him give her a goofy grin and touch her on the shoulder. What a fucktard.

  Kelly skated back to the bench with a smirk.

  I could not help myself and demanded, “What did that asshole say?”

  Her smile faded. “He said to go high blocker or five-hole.” She glared at me. “If you can.”

  The guy played NHL hockey and that was all he could suggest? Those were the weaknesses of every goalie in the universe. They must have been talking about something else.

  But if she wanted five-hole, I’d give her five-hole. I scored and made a face at her. Kelly only laughed. We were pulling away with the game, and both Kelly and Hoff were getting excited about that. We won and had a quick celebration on the ice. I could see that the asshole was still in the stands, grinning like he’d directed the win himself. I felt no joy myself. What did one game matter if everything else was going down the tubes?

  Everyone was pretty pumped in the dressing room. Hoff pulled beers out from his hockey bag. They were lukewarm but still good.

  “The taste of victory,” Army, our goalie called out. We were all sitting around in various states of undress—except Kelly. She wasn’t drinking and was steadily getting dressed.

  “What’s going on?” I asked her in a low voice.

  She wouldn’t meet my eyes. “I have to go now.”

  “We won the championship, and you’re not even partying with us? What kind of teammate does that?” I knew exactly where she was going, and she wasn’t getting out of here without at least feeling guilty.

  “I know. I wish I could stay. I’m sorry.” Then she looked up at me, her eyes flashing. “You might want to ask yourself if we would have won without him.”

  Was she talking about the lame advice he’d given us? That was ridiculous. I drank some more beer and watched as she shouldered her bag and walked towards the door.

  “Kelly! Where you going?” Smitty called out.

  “Sorry, guys. Gotta go.” She turned and smiled at the room. “Great game, everyone.”

  “Okay, Kelly. Thanks for the strategic help,” Hoff called out.

  “See you next season,” Mike said. “You’re playing with us in the fall, right?”

  She nodded, but I could see the uncertainty in her eyes. When the door closed, the noise resumed.

  Faroush, one of our d-men was nearby. “Did you guys see the guy she was talking to?”

  Everyone shook their heads. I guess nobody else had noticed anything.

  He continued. “It was weird. I thought he looked exactly like James Frechette—you know, the Chicago Blackhawks rookie centreman?”

  “Yeah, didn’t he win the Calder?” Pete asked.

  “No, he lost,” I said.

  That was the weekend when things first started going south. I knew it wasn’t completely Kelly’s fault, because I’d been unable to control my anger at her messing up. While she said they didn’t have sex, I had no trouble imagining a thousand other things that could have happened and that had driven me crazy.

  “Anyways, I said something to Kelly and she laughed it off. But then I saw the guy he was sitting with, and you know what?”

  “No, what? Tell us,” Miller said with a laugh. Faroush was kind of a conspiracy theorist, so we sometimes encouraged him on his tangents.

  “The other guy looked like Tyler Ballanchuk! So it must have been Frechette. I mean, what are the odds of two random guys looking exactly like two Blackhawks players?”

  Miller snorted. “Probably the same as the odds that two NHL players would be watching our game. D’ya think they were scouting our team or something? Wow, I hope they saw my big assist.”

  We all laughed at Faroush and changed the subject.

  Hoff came over and sat beside me. “Stud! You had a huge game tonight!”

  “Thanks, Hoff.”

  “That’s the man I traded for.” He lowered his voice, “So, did Kelly leave early to set up the dungeon or get into a schoolgirl outfit?”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  “I know she promised something big to get you playing like that. But she wouldn’t say what it was.” He laughed his dirty old man laugh.

  “Don’t be an idiot,” I told him. There was no doubt I would have been a lot happier this summer if I’d actually been having sex with Kelly. But not having sex was nothing compared to wondering what she was doing with the asshole. This whole summer had been torture.

  I started thinking about the last thing she had said to me. “You might want to ask yourself if we would have won without him.”

  What did that mean? I turned the phrase over in my mind. Then it hit me. I hadn’t been playing well lately, and Kelly had deliberately manipulated me into playing my best game in front of Frechette. Everything she’d said during the game had goaded me on to even greater heights. It was a plan worthy of Machiavelli.

  It was also devious and cruel. Not qualities I’d ever associated with Kelly, but she’d probably do anything to win a hockey championship. I began to wonder if I really knew Kelly, and how much she had changed in our time apart.

  25

  The First Move

  I was all packed for my weekend with Jimmy. We were flying up to Kelowna with Tyler and his girlfriend. Once we got there we were staying at the big lakeside cabin of another teammate, Ian MacEwan. Much to Jimmy’s dismay, I hadn’t gone to any team events yet, and he wanted me to meet the people I’d hang out with if I moved there. He assured me that I’d love Maddy, Mac’s girlfriend.

  I felt guilty. Today was the day I was supposed to make up my mind about the dating game. But Jimmy had surprised me by flying into town last night to see my game and then suggested this trip so I had agreed. Meeting some possible new friends could only help my decision, right? And I owed Jimmy for providing the extra
motivation for last night’s win.

  For therapy, I went for an early run. I was heading for the shower when there was a knock on the door.

  Much to my surprise, Phil was there. Although he was a pretty casual guy, he never dropped by anymore. I wasn’t sure if this was because he was too busy or he didn’t want to run into Jimmy. Besides, I knew Phil was mad at me—for the game and for not coming out afterwards.

  “Come in,” I said. “I’m kind of stinky, though. I just got back from my run.”

  A half-smile appeared on his face. “Hey, you don’t have to tell me. I sit next to you at hockey.”

  “That’s my gear,” I explained lamely. Of course, the smell on my gear came from me. “You want something to drink?”

  “It’s okay. I’m on my way to work,” he said. He was dressed in business casual.

  “Look, Kelly, I’ve been thinking.” Phil paused. My body tensed; his voice was so flat and serious. His hazel eyes were intense and searching. What was he thinking?

  He continued, “I don’t really want to do this thing with you anymore. There’s a bunch of reasons. It’s important for my career that I focus on work right now, and we’re insanely busy.”

  I blinked and waited for him to keep explaining. I wasn’t even sure what he was talking about; I only knew from his tone it was bad news.

  “But mainly, it’s you, Kelly. You’re not the person you used to be, and I really don’t think I want to be with this person.”

  “What? What’re you talking about?”

  “This whole dating game shit. It’s cruel, and right from the beginning it was obvious that someone was going to get hurt. It’s like you think you’re better than normal people, and guys should let you walk all over them. The Kelly I knew was all about kindness. She spent half an hour looking for a raccoon she thought she’d injured with the car. Now you’d probably run right over it and not look back.”