“For once, I’m happy to be stuck in traffic,” my dad said.
I raised an eyebrow. The sun was beating down on the Toyota, we were bumper to bumper on the approach to the Port Mann Bridge, and some jerk was honking non-stop. It was hard to understand my dad sometimes.
He patted my knee. “It means I get to spend more time with my little girl.”
“Dad, I will be back.”
“I know, I know. But McGill is going to be a big adventure. You’re very brave. We’re proud of you.”
I managed a weak smile. “Thanks, Dad.”
“Your mom wanted to have a big going-away party for you, but now….”
He didn’t finish his sentence. I looked out the window at the muddy Fraser River. Everyone had been extra nice to me all day. My parents kept the worrying to a minimum after pointing out that I was going to drive across Canada with a complete stranger and only a few hours to get ready. My girlfriends had hugged me, wished me well, and not asked a million questions about my break-up with Phil. Of course, by abruptly fleeing across the country, I made it crystal clear who the broken-hearted one was.
I really needed to cheer up before I met Donna Crofton. I didn’t want to start my university life as The Girl Who Got Dumped.
I smiled at my dad. “You’ve been great, Dad. Thanks for driving me all the way to Donna’s.”
“No problem, honey.”
He was smiling too. My dad had been mystified as to why I was so upset about breaking up with Phil. “Weren’t you going to break up anyway?” he asked. And that was true, everyone expected us to break up. Only two people knew about my idiotic attempt to stay together.
Would he still go to Calgary? Now he could stay here since I was leaving. After all these years together, it was weird not to even know where he would be living. Every thought about Phil was making me feel shitty—like someone had run me and winded me. If I was going to be Cheerful Kelly, I’d have to shove Phil into a little box in the back of my mind. I could unpack it later.
We finally made it to Donna’s house in Abbotsford. She lived in a ranch house with a huge yard, and two big dogs came rushing down the driveway to greet us. That reminded me I had left my cat snoozing in the middle of my bed.
“Oh Dad, don’t forget to feed Gino. And he’ll be lonely since he’s used to sleeping with me every night, so be extra nice to him.”
I had hugged my cat and kissed him goodbye, but he didn’t really understand leaving. What would he think tonight when I wasn’t there? I felt a ripple of sadness.
My dad nodded. He wasn’t a huge animal lover. “That cat could afford to miss a few meals. And Roger will be happy if Gino chooses his bed to sleep on next.”
Donna came out and hauled the dogs away by their collars. We met her parents and her older sister. It was one of those families where everyone talked over each other. We all sat down for tea and cookies. Donna’s dad immediately took mine aside to talk women’s hockey, but that would be a one-sided conversation. However, it reassured my dad that he was leaving me with my tribe. He gave me a fierce hug and a kiss on the forehead, and then took off. I could see his car disappearing down the long road, and a tiny part of me wanted to be in that car heading home. Back to everything I knew.
Donna was great. She was going into third year at McGill and played defence. I had yakked to her on the phone multiple times, and she had been straightforward and helpful. Best of all, when I called her this morning to find out if the offer of a drive to Montreal was still open, she agreed with a minimum of curiousity.
“I’m so glad you’re going with Donna,” her mom told me. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for a young girl to drive so far alone.”
“Don can take care of herself,” her dad scoffed. Donna was about 5’10” and solidly-built; a sign that the McGill team was going to be awesome.
“It’ll be great to have company. And another driver.” Donna turned to me. “Kelly, I’d like to get an early start in the morning, so maybe we should hit the hay soon.”
In no time, I was lying on the guest room bed at Donna’s house, trying to sleep. I looked up at the ceiling. There was a big watermark that was worrying. Maybe the ceiling was going to collapse on me. Sure, the weather had been beautiful and sunny, and the stain was only as big as a soccer ball, but you never knew. My luck seemed to have run out, so getting crushed by a waterlogged ceiling was probably par for the course.
I was finally alone, and thoughts of Phil came flooding in. I was such an idiot. I knew exactly what he was like. I spent most of our relationship trying not to be all dependent and clingy, and that worked perfectly. Then I let three stupid words make me think everything had changed. I turned into a sap, and everything I was feeling now was my own fault.
No wait, why should I blame myself? Why not blame Phil? What made him so special that he got to go around hurting girls so casually? And he was such a freaking control freak, he wanted our relationship to break up when he wanted and resume when he wanted. Or maybe that talk about getting back together was all bullshit to keep stringing his exes along.
Not me, asshole.
I prided myself on not crying. I had probably cried about three times in the years since I was little. It came from the Japanese side of my family tree, my grandmother sniffed at over-exuberant emotion and my dad used to praise me for sucking it up if I got hurt as a kid.
So I hadn’t cried when Phil broke up with me—even though the cruelty of what he did was like he punched me in the stomach. He didn’t want to be in the same city as me, but we could still “keep in touch.” It wasn’t even his words, but the real message—that the love between us was no big deal.
But I hadn’t shown him how I hurt I was. I had stayed strong and even told him off. Unlike every other girl he had dumped, I hadn’t shed a single tear.
Not crying didn’t mean you weren’t feeling pain. I had let down all my defences, and he had taken everything I had offered up: my trust, my virginity, my love. Then he punted it all. Not that that staying a virgin was that big a deal, but my first should have been someone I could think about with affection instead of being pissed off.
I should be as casual as Phil and be grateful that he was good in bed, and now I was probably good in bed too. A skill, right? Just like hockey, I was expanding my skill set.
Breaking up was no big deal, it happened to everyone. Millions of people had already felt the dull ache inside me that threatened to turn me all stupidly emotional. I was a latecomer to this whole funfest.
I had to shut off my memory banks and not remember all the good things about Phil: his warmth next to me, the way his hands felt on me, the pressure of his lips on mine—only this morning.
Yeah, a few hours ago, we were hugging and saying the L-word to each other. It was probably too soon to think about my lessons learned from this particular disaster, but I knew one thing: I was going to be really, really careful about falling in love again. Love was a dangerous emotion that made you do and say stupid things, and love could hurt you. Almost enough to make you cry.
The only way to stop thinking was action. And look at me.
I had already left home and started out on my new adventure. Ever since I called Donna this morning, it had been a flurry of packing, phone calls, and good-byes. I didn’t know if Phil would even try to see me again, but at least I didn’t have to agonize over that. I didn’t have to look around and see the millions of things that reminded me of him: the CDs he burnt for me, our team photos, the sweatshirt he lent me on the way back from Whistler. Even looking at the ocean reminded me of my birthday celebration.
And what was Phil doing at this very moment? Not thinking of me—that was for sure. I knew what he was like, he’d be on to the next unlucky lady in no time. Maybe he’d already met someone today. Sitting in his lifeguard chair with his sunglasses and ripped body, they were probably lined up to—I shook my head to shatter those images. Don’t dwell on the crap, Kelly.
My stomach hurt, so I curled up into a little ball. I closed my eyes and finally got to sleep. Donna woke me up too early, and her mom made us breakfast. Luckily breakfast was the one meal you could act like a zombie and nobody would notice.
“Okay, I think we’re all packed now,” Donna said, smiling at me.
“Great. I’m all ready to go.”
We got into her little Mazda, which was sitting low already. I didn’t have that much gear, but double hockey bags and suitcases in a small car filled the hatch. There was a faint smell of hockey bag inside, so Donna pulled out a new deodorizing pine tree from the glove box and hung it on the mirror. We eased our way towards Highway One.
Donna was a morning person. “Yeah, I’m all set to start playing again. I figure there’s two seasons: hockey and the off-season. I can hardly wait to get back. Did you do a lot of training this summer?”
I nodded. “Yup. I followed the whole program that Mike sent me. Or should I call him Coach?”
“Both. We all call him Coach Mike, or sometimes Dad, if he’s worrying too much. He acts like a dad. Well, if your dad is a super-intense, hockey-obsessed workaholic. Mine is, but your dad seemed more laid-back last night.”
“Yeah, he is. But he’s always been completely supportive, both my parents are.”
She bobbed her head up and down. “I’m excited, I think it’s going to be a great year. Coach Mike’s been recruiting hard and the team is looking good. You’re going to love Montreal and McGill.”
“I think I will.” Last night I’d felt awful, but in the morning sunshine made me more optimistic. I’d been to Montreal before and it was cool. It was completely different from what I was used to, but that was good. I’d be busy and having all new experiences. I’d be playing hockey with a great new team in a whole new competitive league. As long as I kept looking forward, life would be amazing.
“You seem a little down, Kelly,” Donna said. “I guess it’s the first time you’ve left home.”
I nodded, but realized she hadn’t seen that.
She continued, “Yeah, it’s tough the first time you move away, especially if you have a close family. So, are you leaving a boyfriend back in North Van?”
“Nope,” I said firmly. “Hockey is my boyfriend.”
Donna laughed. We accelerated onto the highway and headed east.
The End of Part One