Shit. It’s exactly the question that Mats wanted us to prepare for, and I was the one who was all that’s never going to happen. I can read Mats so well now. He appears calm, but he’s panicking inside. He’s not good at this kind of bullshitting. So, it’s Cleo time.
I clear my throat.
I fell for Mats the first time I saw him, I begin.
Marjorie folds her arms and smirks. She’s ready for a whole romantic spiel.
I was watching the men’s hockey practice at the beginning of last year. I saw this one player out there, and his skating was so smooth and powerful. ‘Who the eff is that?’ I wondered immediately. When they started scrimmaging, he really stood out. Not only his puck skills, but his vision. He could anticipate what was going to happen.
Marjorie nods at me to continue. Mats is hanging on my every word too, except he’s probably worried I’m going to fuck up.
I continue. He was like that Gretzky quote about ‘skating where the puck is going to be, not where it’s been.’ Mats had so much focus, and he played with such intensity. I had only one thought.
She smirks. That you liked him?
I giggle. No. Why is this guy not playing D1?
Geraldine blows out a disappointed huff at my unromantic conclusion. She’s no hockey fan.
What’s that mean? Marjorie asks.
College hockey is divided into different divisions. Monarch College is Division 3. Division 1 hockey is where the top players go, the guys who are drafted or might get a chance to play pro.
Well, go on with your story, she urges.
So, that was the first time I saw him. But another time, I was walking by the men’s weight room. I keep the jealousy out of my voice, because of course the Mustangs have their own weight room, while the Minks share a gym with the other varsity athletes. Mats was working out. He was doing bench presses, and… holy crap, it was like chick porn. His tank top was damp and sticking to his broad chest, the huge muscles on his arms were glistening, and his hair was all sweaty and falling away from his gorgeous face. I literally stopped breathing. Wow.
I look around and my audience is spellbound. Marjorie is tugging at the collar of her blouse, Geraldine is standing beside the table crumbling crescent roll in her hand, and Mats is staring at me with a slight frown.
Marjorie recovers first and clears her throat. I’m sure a forthright gal like you marched in there and asked him out on the spot.
I shake my head. Look at him, Marjorie. You think a guy like that walks around without getting hit on a gazillion times a day?
Mats flinches when I say this. Bizarrely, he hates being reminded of how hot he is.
By the time I actually met him, he already had a girlfriend.
She leans back in her chair. So, how did you get in there, then?
Now for the part of my story that will take some finessing. It was fate. When his girlfriend made the dumb mistake of breaking up with him, she did it in the middle of downtown Minneapolis. Poor Mats was stranded. And guess who came riding up on her white steed to rescue him?
It was actually a Subaru Forester, Mats interjects. His subtle smile gives me reassurance. He was right all along; this whole scheme goes better if we work as a team. He took over at the beginning of the evening, and now I’ve got the bullshit portion covered.
Both Marjorie and Geraldine laugh. That’s a bit of a role reversal, Marjorie quips. But she approves of overturning gender roles, anyway.
I join in the laughter. Truthfully, it wasn’t quite that romantic. My best friend was the one driving, but we did pick him up on a downtown sidewalk. And Mats isn’t the type of guy to jump right into a new relationship. So, I had to hang around until he was ready.
I wink at him. Right?
He nods slowly. He’s giving me his mystified look. I used to think he was disgusted with my behaviour, but now I know it’s the opposite. When I surprise him, he admires that.
Well, that was a good tale. Marjorie turns to Geraldine. Are we only having soup tonight?
You haven’t even finished it yet, Geraldine retorts, but scuttles off to the kitchen anyway to get the next course.
Now Marjorie focuses her attention on Mats. If you’re such a good player, why aren’t you playing in Division I? I assume that would mean attending a bigger college, maybe an Ivy?
He shrugs. I’m not even the best hockey player in my family. My older brother plays in the NHL, so I got to see firsthand what he went through to get there. I decided that, rather than killing myself to make some lower tier of professional hockey, I’d rather enjoy my last years playing. Monarch College appealed to me because it offered a small campus and excellent academics. And I liked Coach Norman.
