Do not ask me for favours ever again, Jordan, I say.
Easy for you to say. You’ve gotten all the breaks, he replies.
How can he even say that? Jordan is actually the more gifted hockey player. I’ve worked my ass off to better my athletic skills. I’ve absorbed coaching lessons and worked on my mental game. We used to train together, and I was the one who kept going after Jordan left to relax or meet his buddies. Any breaks I’ve had, I made for myself. Why did I never recognize Jordan’s laziness before? He’s always looking for the easier path.
It’s Mats who has always told the truth. I should have believed in him over my brother, and now I feel even worse about our breakup. I fucked up spectacularly.
I snatch Jordan’s keys from the shelf by the door and slip my boots on. I’m taking your truck to Mom’s. You can figure out how to get it back.
Then I leave, the door slamming very satisfyingly behind me.
22
THE APOLOGY TOUR
MATS
WHEN I WAKE UP ON MONDAY MORNING, THERE’S A MESSAGE FROM CLEO.
I’m not even sure I want to read it. She can be so chaotic. At first, it was part of her appeal, but now it’s just another problem.
But fuck it, I can deal.
Cleo: I really need to talk to you. When can we meet?
Exasperated, I reply: This is not how breaking up works. It’s better if we keep some distance.
Cleo: Please. It’s really important.
Sorry. I’ve got enough going on right now. Maybe down the road we can be friends again. But right now, it’s too much.
It’s too painful to have to keep seeing her. Our time together was… incredible. But I’m still pissed about her lies. I feel like a fool for trusting her. It’s my own fault, for not pushing the issue and finding out exactly what went down between her and her brother. Or maybe it’s my fault for dating Jordan Nelson’s sister. There’s no way we could have worked out. Cleo and I don’t exist in a world by ourselves.
Cleo: Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow, right?
I already wrote to Barb. I explained that we have too much on with playoffs and mid-terms. I suggested the dinners could resume after spring break, but maybe change things up a bit. Like bring different players.
Cleo: You mean not you and me alone anymore?
Yeah. You could go with Becks, or another teammate. We’ll tell Marjorie that we broke up and it’s too painful.
Which it is. I could pretend to be a couple before we’d been together, but I can’t do it any longer. I’m serious about needing time and distance. It’s all too raw right now.
I can see Cleo typing, but no message appears. As I wait, I wonder what I even want her to say. Because there’s nothing that can put us together again. I’m going to do what I should have done back in January: take a complete step back from dating. I tried before, but Cleo slipped under my defences. When I was getting all those ridiculous DMs, Cleo was the one person who wouldn’t ever be interested in me. It felt safe to spend time together, and we got to know each other almost by accident.
Maybe we should never have slept together. It’s easy to imagine having Cleo as a buddy, just the way she is with my roommates. She can flop onto the couch and make conversation with anyone.
If only she hadn’t revealed so much in front of me; telling Marjorie about her failed relationships and the guys who tried to change her. Because that’s what made her even more appealing—to be the person who could appreciate all the wonders of Cleo. I liked her big heart, her strong and pliant body, her humour, and her unwavering confidence. That was the thing I most wanted to learn from her: how to be that strong-minded. But I never expected the lying.
No message appears in the end, which is fine with me. We’re over, and it’s time to get ready for class.
I head over to campus early for a meeting with the Athletic Council. It’s probably an update on the drug issue. Zee and I have been doing some half-hearted surveillance, but we haven’t found any indication of a widespread drug problem. Or any problem at all, really. We discussed a couple of guys who might be using something to get hyped for games, just based on performance—but we have no proof.
When I get to the meeting room, Jane Coughlin, the assistant to Roger Gordon, is waiting outside the door.
Roy, can I have a word, please? She looks quite nervous, which sets off alarm bells.
I follow her into a small side room. Just before we go inside, I see Zee come around the corner. He gives me a nod and disappears into the meeting room.
