Hockey Holidays

by Toni Aleo

  Well, it was too late to turn back now. Em padded into the bathroom. The old-fashioned claw foot tub looked inviting, but it had seen better days, like everything in this house. She tried to turn off the dripping tap, but nothing happened. Em worried about how her parents managed their day-to-day lives, because they lived in a world of ideas and causes. She’d always been the practical member of the family, managing the family finances from the age of twelve.

  She got washed up and ready. The door of Ian’s room was open. His room was empty but surprisingly neat, with the bed made and his open duffel full of folded clothes.

  Her mother was reading a newspaper in the warm and sunny kitchen.

  “Merry Christmas, Emerald. There’s granola I made last week.” Her mother motioned to the paper. “Have you heard about this new art exhibition? A group of women artists have created vulvas out of found materials. I wonder if we’ll have time to see it before you go home.”

  Em needed coffee before she could even answer that question. She poured herself a cup and took some blessed sips.

  “Where’s Dad?” she asked, skipping the recycled vulva question altogether.

  “He and Ian went out shopping.”

  “Shopping? On Christmas Day?” Shopping was not a word she connected with either of those men.

  Her mother looked up and smiled. “Yes, there’s a grocery store on Bloor Street that’s open. Dad needed a few things for dinner, and Ian wanted to get outside. What a nice young man he is.”

  Em nearly dropped her coffee cup. “Mom! Last night, you spent half an hour arguing with Ian about regressive tax rates. How can you say he’s a nice young man?”

  “Well, he’s misguided about that, but most small businessmen are.”

  Em shook her head. “He’s not a small businessman, he’s a carpenter.”

  “Emerald! You were not raised to have disdain for working class professions. Everyone contributes to the community in their own way—even corporate robber barons. Besides, Jesus was a carpenter.”

  Since her mother was an atheist, this was another shocking statement.

  Em frowned. “So, you like Ian?”

  Her mother turned the page of the newspaper. “Well, he’s not Lucas, but he’s certainly more interesting than the last few boys you brought home.”

  How had this happened? She had to spend the holidays with Ian Reid, and he wasn’t even fulfilling his purpose.

  Then the man himself came in with her father. He was carrying two cloth bags full of groceries.

  Ian smiled when he saw her. “Merry Christmas, Em.”

  “Just put those bags on the counter, son,” her dad said. “And thanks for all your help. It was surprisingly busy in there.”

  Em jumped up and began unpacking groceries. Ian was making her look lazy in her own home.

  “You’re a real sleepyhead,” he said.

  “Er, well, you know that already,” Em stammered.

  Ian snorted. Clearly, he wasn’t going to play along with her.

  “I was wondering, would you like to go for a walk with me?” Em asked. “I can show you my childhood neighbourhood.”

  “All the places where little Emerald experienced her firsts?” Ian asked. Everything he said sounded sexual. “Sure.”

  “We can open presents when you get back,” her mom said. “Once Dad gets the turkey in the oven.”

  As soon as they got outside, Em hit him with the problem. “It’s not working. My parents actually like you.”

  “Well, Ms. Anal-list, I guess you can’t predict everything. I never thought this was going to fly.”

  “You didn’t?” Em said. Then why did he even come?

  “You can’t force people to do what you want ’em to. Sometimes you have to roll with life.”

  “But what are we going to do?”

  “We? I’m doing my part,” Ian said. “And I’m only here for the Leafs game anyway.”

  “Maybe you could act worse. Why are you being so helpful?”

  He blew out a breath. “I hate sitting around doing nothing. I didn’t know if you were going to sleep all day.”

  Em frowned. She hated doing nothing too. It was disconcerting to find out she had things in common with Ian. “I don’t understand this. When I brought Todd home, they treated him like the anti-Christ.”

  “Was Todd the lawyer or the pharmaceutical rep?”

  They rounded a corner, and there were kids playing with their brand new snowball slingshots.

  “Todd was the lawyer. Ben was the pharmaceutical rep. Wait, how do you know who I dated?”

  Ian shrugged. “I dunno. Musta been when you and Abby were gabbing away about your love life.”

  A snowball whizzed by as they walked together.

  Ian looked over at her. “I know why your plan isn’t working.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re not acting crazy enough about me.”

  “What are you talking about? I’m pretending to be your girlfriend. That’s already a sign of insanity.”

  “Your parents aren’t dummies. They can see you’re not really into me, so they aren’t going to bother warning you off.”

  “How am I not acting into you?”

  The corners of Ian’s mouth turned up. “You’re not affectionate with me. You don’t do any special shit for me. You don’t praise me. And who tells their parents that we have to have separate bedrooms because I snore?”

  “It was the best excuse I could think of. You certainly don’t look like someone of high principles who won’t have premarital sex.”

  “Got that right,” Ian replied. “The point is, when people are into a new relationship, they want to bone all the time. Remember that first year with Abby and Mase?”

  Em nodded. Those two had not been able to keep their hands off each other. After several embarrassing encounters, Em had learned to even knock on open doors before she entered. She still knew way too much about Mason’s body.

  “So, you’re saying if this plan doesn’t work, it’s my fault?” Em said.

  “You said be myself. I’ve done that.”

  Em scowled. “Wait. This isn’t a trick to get some, is it?”

  “Am I going to get some?” Ian asked.

  “No, of course not. A fake relationship is by definition not the same as a real one.”

  “Whatever, princess,” said Ian. “Let’s go back. I told your dad I’d give him a hand with the dinner.”

  She’d already gone to all this trouble and spent over a thousand bucks on hockey tickets. And now she had to act more affectionate to Ian? Em groaned internally, but it was only for two more days.

  She reached out. “Okay, I’ll be nicer. Let’s walk back holding hands.” Ian’s large gloved hand enveloped hers in a very pleasant way. She corrected herself. Of course, he felt warm, he was alive.

  When they got home, there was panic in the air.

  “What’s wrong?” Em asked. Her mother was running around with two plastic buckets and her father was cursing in the kitchen. He was normally very laid back, so cursing meant a crisis level problem.

  “The goddamn sink has backed up. Today of all days. I can’t even get hold of a plumber.”

  Her mom added, “Well, strictly speaking, it’s not an emergency. Flooding is an emergency.”

  “Cooking dinner for twenty people without a working sink is a goddamn emergency,” growled her father.

  “Well, maybe we can ask a neighbour if...” Her mother’s voice faltered. All their neighbours would be in the midst of their own Christmases.

  Ian had the flashlight of his phone on, and he was looking into the murky water in the sink. Then he opened up the cupboard door and looked underneath.

  “Pretty old drains you got here.” He pulled off his sweater and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. “Let me take a look.”

  “Do you think you can fix it?” her mother asked.

  “I’ll give ’er a go. Em, can you help me?”

  She agreed
and was immediately assigned to do the most disgusting job: scooping all the yucky water out of the sink. As she went in and out of the kitchen, she heard Ian asking her dad about pliers, a plunger, and—a snake? What on earth would he do with a snake? Their next-door neighbour was called and soon Ian had all the tools he required to get to work.

  Her father took his food prep to the dining room table, while Em hovered and handed tools to Ian who was lying underneath the sink.

  She had to admit there was something attractive about Ian being able to fix things. When her dad or Lucas tried to repair anything, there was a lot of tension and complaining. But judging from the whistling, Ian was enjoying himself.

  Em stared down at his headless body. He was wearing a beige shirt, faded jeans, and a brown leather belt. The bottom of his shirt gaped enough that she could see a thin line of hair there. And there was this bulge in his jeans that—

  “Em. Snake, please.” Ian’s voice broke into her imaginings.

  The snake had turned out to be metal rather than some grease-eating boa constrictor, and she handed it over.

  “How’s it going?” she asked him.

  He rolled out from under the sink and smiled at her. “Good. A bunch of stuff went wrong at the same time. I’ve fixed it for now, but your parents should probably replace the P-trap soon.”

  Em snickered. “P-trap. That’s funny.”

  Ian smiled. “See, I use language you don’t understand too.”

  “You’ve got grease on your cheek.” Em reached up to brush off a smudge on Ian’s face. She felt the contrast of his soft skin and the bristly stubble. He caught her wrist and stared at her. His eyes seemed to be asking an important question. But she had no clue how to answer.

  Just then her mother walked in, and Em jumped away from him.

  “How’s the repair going, Ian?” Hannah asked.

  “All done,” he replied.

  Her mother enthusiastically celebrated the miracle of water draining as it was supposed to.

  “Thank you so much. Oh, your shirt is filthy now,” said her mother. “I was going to do a wash anyway. Why don’t you let me do that too?”

  Ian wiped his hands on a towel. “Actually, if you could do my jeans too, that would be great. I packed pretty light.”

  “Of course. Anything you need. You really saved our Christmas.”

  He went upstairs to get changed. Em helped her dad bring all the food back to the kitchen.

  “Isn’t it amazing that Ian was able to fix the sink?” asked her mother.

  “He’s very mechanically-gifted,” agreed her dad.

  Em gritted her teeth.

  “Emerald, can you bring Ian’s clothes down to the laundry room for me?”

  “Sure, Mom.”

  She ran up the two flights of stairs and tapped on Ian’s door. It was slightly ajar, and her knocking opened it further. Ian was standing there in a pair of sweatpants. Only sweatpants. His bare chest was sculpted like a Greek statue and his shoulders were vast. His arms were curved pockets of muscle overlaid with blue veins and prominent tendons.

  “I came for your pants,” Em blurted.

  “Been waiting to hear that.”

  He held out his jeans and shirt but didn’t move towards her. Em stumbled into his room and tried to grab the clothes, but he didn’t let go.

  Their eyes met. They were so close, and he was so… naked. She swallowed.

  “The sooner you let go, the sooner you get clean jeans,” Em said.

  Ian smiled. “What are you afraid of, princess?”

  You. Whoever you are, she thought, but she didn’t say a word.

  5. Christmas Chaos

  Ian tucked in his denim shirt and zipped up his freshly washed jeans. As he buckled his belt, he looked in the cloudy mirror and wondered if he was dressed up enough.

  Jesus, where did that thought come from? He shook his head. It was because Em’s family was so nice. Never in the history of time had anyone been praised so much for a simple plumbing fix. If he had his tools, he could do more. This old house had enough work for a month.

  There was a knock on his door. He opened it to find Em, looking like a sexy elf in her green velvet outfit.

  “I’m picking you up for dinner. You know, like a real girlfriend.”

  Ian shook his head. Em’s moods seesawed all over, and he was getting dizzy. Seeing how much she and her parents cared about each other, he didn’t get why she wouldn’t just tell them what was bugging her. But people always had complicated shit going on with their parents. Not having any meant he saw through that crap more easily.

  “And what else do I have to look forward to?” he asked.

  “I’m going to do all the things you suggested: be nicer and more affectionate.”

  She moved towards him and awkwardly slipped her arm around his waist. Unfortunately, her right boob rested on his bicep, and his cock immediately rose to attention. Not exactly what he wanted before he had to sit down to a family dinner.

  “Why don’t we hold off on all this crap until someone can see us?” Ian moved towards the door.

  Em followed, grumbling. “Okay, but I think it’s pretty obvious that we’ve barely touched before.”

  He spun around. “I’m the one who said we should practice.”

  And at the sight of her beautiful, pissed-off face looking up at him, he lost his mind. There were only so many times you could put food in front of a starving man.

  He grabbed Em’s shoulders and drew her closer. Then he bent his head down and kissed her. She tasted like he knew she would—sweet, fresh, and pure. Her mouth was soft and responsive. While he only meant to kiss her briefly, it was too good to stop. She parted her lips, and he breathed in her perfect essence. Her body was soft against his, and there was this insane inevitability about them together.

  This is how it should be. That was the only thought echoing in his brain as he kissed her harder. It was only when Em pushed her hands against his chest that he came back to earth.

  “Oh my goodness. That was more than adequate practice.” Em smoothed her hair and practically ran down the stairs. But when he got down to the landing, she was waiting for him.

  “Ready?” she asked and held out her hand.

  “Who’s all coming anyway?” His voice was almost normal again.

  “I don’t know anyone,” she said. “Well, except my sister and her husband.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “It all started when my dad was a grad student. He invited people over who didn’t have anywhere to go at Christmas. So we’ve had tons of exchange students and Toronto newcomers. My mom does volunteer work with new immigrants, so we get families now too.”

  “It’s like what Mase and Abby do,” Ian said. “Except they do it with friends.”

  Em nodded. “It’s weird, but I do see similarities between them and my parents. They’re generous and they love to have people over.”

  “I’d like to do that too,” Ian confessed, surprising himself. Maybe there was truth serum in those mung beans.

  “Why don’t you then?” Em asked. “I could help you.”

  “Yeah, maybe,” Ian said. Everything with Em was confusing. How were they going to go back to being—whatever it was they used to be?

  But he had no time to worry. The doorbell was ringing, and the already cluttered house was soon full of people.

  At dinner, Ian was seated between Em and a shy Syrian woman named Haya.

  “Which dish did you bring?” he asked Haya, with eating motions to make sure she understood. Everyone had brought food, and it was a real mix. There was the big turkey that Ronald had made, but nothing else—from kimchi fried rice to a stack of pale flatbreads—was typically Christmas.

  Haya pulled over a plate with a moulded golden cake made of rice, nuts, and ground beef. “Makloubeh,” she said and scooped a serving onto his plate.

  Ian ate a forkful. It was delicious. He gave Haya a thumbs up. She smiled and added even more to his plate.<
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  People were talking over each other in a mixture of languages and hand signals. He could hear Hannah telling Sky, Em’s sister, about how he had fixed the sink. Two shy preteens were making friends in a corner. Ronald was breaking out a few words of Mandarin to an elderly man. It was total chaos.

  Em was holding a fidgety toddler on her lap so that his mother could eat. She leaned against him, and her body was soft and warm. Weirdly, it felt like they were a family.

  “I hope this meal is okay,” she said.

  Ian nodded. “I like it.” When he was a kid, he loved those movies with huge squabbling families. Home life with his grandparents had been pretty quiet, which was why he loved the camaraderie of a hockey team.

  While the clean-up was going on, Ian took a few of the kids outside to play hockey. He always kept a couple of sticks in the truck, and Hannah dug out a few plastic ones from a crammed back shed.

  There was no net, but Ian set up little pylons. He gave the kids a few shooting tips, but mostly he let them hack around. Nothing better than the feel of a hockey stick in your hands.

  When Tarek, Haya’s son, finally scored a goal, he looked happy but just stood there.

  “Buddy, you need a goal celly,” Ian said. The boy watched him with wide brown eyes as he raised his arms in the air and yelled, “Yeah!”

  Nothing.

  Then a tiny girl named Yui tried it. “Yah!” she squeaked with her stick waving in the air. All the other kids copied her. “Yah!” “Yah!” “Yah!” They yelled loudly and then laughed.

  Em came outside, bundled in a down jacket. “You’re not teaching them your ridiculous goal celebrations, are you?”

  “What’s wrong with my cellies?” he asked.

  “They’re overkill. You were riding the stick in a blowout.”

  Ian laughed. “Oh, the other night? That was just because some of the guys on the other team threw down a challenge.”

  Em blinked at him. “There’s so much about you I’ve gotten wrong.”

  “Is that good or bad?” Ian asked, but she didn’t reply.