Hockey Is My Boyfriend: Part One (9 page)

T
he next day
, I dropped in at Phil’s place after my run. “So, do you have a copy of your hockey schedule around?”

“Why do you want my schedule?”

“I’d like to come to one of your games.”

Phil gave me a quizzical look and then got it. “Ah, the Tanaka Scale of Dating. But Kelly, we played together for years. You already know what a great player I am.”

He wasn’t going to win any modesty awards, but he was a great player. His only flaw had been “protecting me” too much: taking out guys who checked me too hard or even getting into fights with guys who ran me. I used to tell him to back off, but he never listened.

He had a game Tuesday evening, so I went. Of course, he didn’t need to protect anyone and just played well. What I liked about Phil’s game was his creativity. Too many players made the same moves all the time, from the way they exited the zone to the places they liked to shoot from. Phil was always trying new stuff, even in tight game situations. He seemed able to score at will, but he also excelled at setting up goals. I certainly didn’t see anything in his game that made me not want to go out with him. He was the best player on the ice. In fact, watching him play was kind of turning me on.

It was sad to watch my old hockey team and not to play with them. Some of the parents came over to talk and ask me how it was going in girls’ hockey. A few told me that they missed me on the team, which was really nice.

Phil drove me home afterwards.

“How was I?” he asked.

“Okay,” I told him. Phil didn’t need any ego-boosting.

He grinned; he knew exactly how good he had been. “I probably broke the Tanaka Scale, and now you want me bad.

“You wish.” I turned so he couldn’t see me smiling. He was right, he had been hot but I wasn’t letting on. “It would take an NHL superstar to break the Tanaka Scale.”

“Can I come in?” he asked when we pulled into my driveway. I nodded. It had been ages since we had hung out here. Right off, it was clear that we weren’t just buddies anymore. Phil grabbed my hand as we walked up to the house. I wriggled loose by the time we walked in the door, but it was too late.

“Why Phil, hello,” my mom said. She had obviously seen the handholding and was way too excited. She was always after me to do all the fun things she did in high school, which seemed to mean wearing slinky dresses and dancing disco with boys. “We haven’t seen much of you around here lately.”

“Well, I’m going to be around a lot more, Molly.” Phil was so relaxed with my mom. I had never ever called his mom Greta. I even stuttered over “Mrs. Davidson.”

“Um, Phil just had a game, so I’m going to get us a snack.” I peeked in the family room where my dad was reading a book and my brother was doing something on the computer. I grabbed some drinks, apples, and granola bars. “We’ll be up in my room.”

“Don’t forget the house rules,” my dad called out. My dad’s rule was that my door had to be open if a guy was in there. It was really the Phil rule, since Phil was the only guy who had ever been in my bedroom. Also, my dad was the opposite of my mom, he would have preferred if I didn’t date until I was 21. Or 41. Or when he was dead.

Phil and I had lots to catch up on. We started talking about our plans for university next year. While I had hoped for a hockey scholarship to a U.S. college, that dream was fading.

“I’m playing really well, but my SAT scores sucked. Laura Armstrong is getting interest from U.S. colleges right now, but not me. The good news is that the Mac’s tournament we're going to after Christmas will have some Canadian university scouts there, so I could get a chance to go somewhere else and play. Otherwise, I guess I’ll go to U.B.C.”

Phil nodded. “I want to go to U.B.C., too. But my dad has this good friend who’s the Dean of Engineering in Calgary. They both want me to consider going there. It’s not as good a school, but Dad thinks I could get a big scholarship and make some connections. He went there, so he’s biased.”

“Maybe we’ll both end up staying here,” I said.

“Yeah, who knows though. It’s early days. You could still get something.”

Phil had way more confidence in me than I did. I was a good player with pretty good marks, but I wasn’t the whole package—and tons of other girls were. Phil reached over to hold my hand, and the warmth of his touch excited me. I swallowed hard.

“So, you’re away after Christmas?” he asked. “Are you going to be here New Year’s?”

I shook my head. “If we make it to the final, it’s on January 1st. But even if we don’t, the playoffs end December 31st, and we’d still have to drive home. So, chances aren’t too good.”

“That’s too bad. I’ll miss you on New Year’s Eve. ” Phil looked at me through his dark lashes. I suddenly felt sweaty and pulled my hand away. New Year’s Eve would mean making out at midnight, which both excited and scared me. Phil saw I was getting twitchy and changed the subject.

“Is that a new Team Canada poster?” he asked, pointing to my wall.

“Yeah, I got to chosen to go to a special clinic. Cassie Campbell and Vicky Sunohara were there! They did some work on the ice with us. It was amazing.”

“Wow, you never told me that.”

“How could I? We haven’t been talking to each other most of the fall.”

“Yeah, sorry about that. Everything with you and Nicklas was bugging me. But now we can make up for it.” Phil moved off his chair, and sat down beside me. The bed creaked loudly and then I heard my dad clearing his throat in the family room. I hopped up and sat on the vacated chair.

“Phil, I really meant what I said about going slow. I’d rather have some time by myself, but if you insist on us going out… well, I don’t want us to get too physical, too fast. Is that okay with you?”

He frowned, but only for a second. “Sure. But then what’s the difference from being friends? I don’t think you can deny we’ve got a ton of attraction going on.”

I sighed. He was right. How could we keep our hands off each other when we knew how hot things could be? “Doesn’t that worry you? We’ve been good friends for so long and going out could mess that up.”

“That doesn’t worry me at all. In fact, it’s better. We know each other and you know you can trust me.” As he said that, he reached over and put his hand on my knee, and then slowly moved his thumb towards my thigh. It seemed innocent, but all he had to do was touch me and I was turning into Jell-O. Hot, wet-for-it Jell-O. I really had to draw a line here, otherwise I’d soon be having sex with him, open door or not.

Although every molecule in my body disagreed, I lifted his hand off me. “Stop it. Please, can you just respect that I need time to get my head on straight? I don’t want to rush into stuff the way I did with Nicklas.”

He opened his mouth, and I could tell he was ready to argue, but I spoke with total honesty. “Oh Phil, come on. You know I care about you and I don’t want to screw things up. When the time is right for us, it’ll be even better. You said you’d be patient, and I want to hold you to that.”

He groaned. “Awww, I feel like I’ve been waiting so long already.”

I didn’t say anything. He was right, but I was right too. If he couldn’t do this one thing for me, maybe it wasn’t going to work out. Now I knew that doing what my body wanted wasn’t always the right thing.

Phil was watching my face and he laughed. “I know when you stick out your chin like that, you’ve got your mind made up. I said I’d be a perfect gentleman, and I will be.”

“Thanks,” I said happily. “I’m sure it won’t be that long until I’m ready.”

Phil leaned so close that I could feel his hot breath as he whispered in my ear, “Let me know as soon as you’re ready, Kel. Day or night.”

Jell-O again.

A
fter school
, Charmaine and I walked to my place because we were working on a biology assignment together. Charmaine could have done the whole thing alone and blindfolded, but our teacher liked to assign group work. We were both happy to work together and not with some bozo who wouldn’t do anything other than sign his name to the finished work.

Although it was December, it wasn’t raining and the fresh air felt great.

“So, how’s it going? You and Phil,” Charmaine wondered. Phil and I had been going out for a couple of weeks now.

“It’s good,” I said. “Well, mostly good.”

She looked at me curiously. “Tell me, Kelly. My whole social life is vicarious.” Poor Charmaine. Dating was out of the question right now. She was really looking forward to moving into residence next year. Her parents wanted her to stay in Vancouver, but at least she’d get some independence.

“Well, the good part is the two of us together. We have a great time and Phil knows me already, so I can be normal.” Since April had thrown my old clothes out, I still dressed up, but now I acted more like myself.

“Sound great, so what’s the bad part?”

“Other people are weirding me out. Some random girl at Shoppers congratulated me on ‘landing’ Phil. And girls I hardly know are warning me not to get too attached, because he’s going to dump me soon.”

“That’s ridiculous. It’s not their business,” Charmaine agreed.

“Also, I don’t get why people treat me differently because I’m going out with him. Guys and girls.” It was really stupid, but people seemed to think I was cooler now, just because I was going out with Phil.

Charmaine shook her head. “You’re asking the wrong person. I know nothing about relationships. I do know I could never go out with a guy like Phil.”

“What does that mean, a guy like Phil?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you.” Charmaine peered at me to make sure I wasn’t offended. “I only meant that I could never date him because he’s so out of my league.”

“Why not? You’re cute and really smart. What more could a guy want?”

She started to giggle nervously. “Phil is so good-looking and experienced with women. Dating Phil would be like learning to drive in a Ferrari—way too much car for a beginner.”

I thought about her remark. Phil did have a legendary rep. There were tons of rumours about him: that he had done it in the girls’ changeroom near the gym, that he got blown under the table during chem lab, and that something wild happened on the bus to the grad ski trip. Phil never said anything, but it was like he had a pervert publicist out there somewhere.

I knew a lot of this stuff was bull. I remembered one time when he was supposed to be having a three-way in the back of the school theatre; we were actually building a Lego city with my little brother—not that Phil would want that fact to get out. So I never believed a lot of the stuff I heard about Phil, but if even 10% of the stuff were true, then Phil was a frigging sex machine.

“I wonder if I can drive a Ferrari,” I gulped. A Toyota was more my speed. On one hand, I realized that if we were happy, I shouldn’t be worried about other people’s opinions or warnings. And Nicklas seemed to get off on my inexperience. But on the other hand, I didn’t want to disappoint Phil. I wanted things to work out for more than a month.

Phil’s idea of giving me space and mine were different. I thought we’d go back to the old buddy days, but Phil was a physical person. So he seemed to think that as long as we weren’t having sex, that was enough of a concession. He wanted to hold hands, he wanted to sit close, and he wanted to kiss and make out whenever. Who could blame him? I wanted to do all those things too, but I wasn’t quite there yet.

I wondered when I would be ready. My body was more than ready, but my head needed time to adjust. Also, I knew that Nicklas was still upset. I hated hurting anyone’s feelings, and I felt guilty. So many complications.

“Don’t worry, Kelly. You’re very coordinated, I’m sure you could drive any kind of car,” Charmaine joked. She patted my arm. “No seriously, you shouldn’t worry. I think that Phil feels very differently about you than anyone else. He’s always liked you.”

But as I was finding out, that made things tougher. The more you cared about someone, the more you worried about everything going right.

We passed by the garage and we poked our heads inside to say hi to my mom. She had a full pottery studio inside, with a potter’s wheel, a slab roller, and a kiln. My mom made these beautiful vessels that were a cross between a giant vase and a sculpture.

She looked up from the wheel. She was dressed in a faded denim shirt, a multi-coloured Indian cotton skirt, and old leather boots. Her hair was covered in a fine dust and her arms were muddy, but she still glowed. She loved being in the studio.

“Hello, girls. How are you, Charmaine dear?” My mom loved Charmaine, all the parents did.

“I’m fine, thank you, Molly. Are you getting ready for a show?”

“Yes, I’m having a small exhibition at the District Hall next month. But I have a big order for my gallery in Toronto, so things are hectic.” My mom was always busy though; even if she didn’t have a show or sale, she experimented with glazes, transfers, and new materials. She worked really hard at something that most of her friends saw as a hobby. She rubbed the back of her hand over her forehead and streaked clay across her face.

I pointed to her cheek, and she nodded. “I’ll get cleaned up before your dad gets home. There are carrot muffins if you want them.” Then she got back to work, and we went inside the house. I could hear that my brother had a friend in his room.

“Your house is always so nice—full of flowers,” Charmaine commented as she looked around. Our house was done up in a crafty-cottage style. My mom was always adding more pottery, paintings, and natural stuff like seashells or driftwood. This year she had done a Christmas tree all in flowers that looked pretty amazing.

“My dad brings flowers home for my mom every evening,” I replied.

“Really? That’s so unbelievably romantic. I know he’s a florist, but still. The two of them fit together perfectly. She makes vases and he brings flowers.”

I debated whether to tell her the whole story. The way he rushed in to see her as soon as he got home. The way she gushed over the flowers like he didn’t do this every flipping night. They still acted like newlyweds and although it was sweet, it was also embarrassing. I decided not to tell Charmaine, who was already too much of a romantic.

“Yeah, it’s sooooo adorable. Flowers are okay, but… whatever.”

The family joke was that my mom wished she had a daughter. Someone who also loved flowers, dresses, and shopping. We admired each other’s accomplishments, but she usually skipped my hockey games, and I never wanted to go to art galleries or watch weepy movies with her. When I was young, she tried to jumpstart my creativity by enrolling me in art, music, and drama classes, but I could not sit still that long. Finally, my grandmother had pointed out that my mom should choose the activities I wanted and not the ones she wished she had done as a kid. That was when I got to start hockey.

Despite my secrecy, Charmaine had already set sail on the Love Boat. “Flowers every night? I wonder if I’ll ever meet a man that considerate?”

My knowledge from hockey dressing rooms would have led me to guess: “Not a snowball’s chance in hell.” But I didn’t say a word. Why disillusion someone sweet who was about to help me get an A in Bio?