Ian
I tucked in my denim shirt and zipped up my freshly washed jeans. As I buckled my belt, I looked in the cloudy mirror and wondered if I was dressed up enough.
Jesus, where did that thought come from? 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 I’d had my tools, I could do a lot more. This old house had enough work for a month.
There was a knock on my door. I opened it to find Em, looking like a sexy elf in a green velvet dress.
She tilted her head and smiled. “I’m picking you up for dinner. You know, like a real girlfriend.”
Em’s moods seesawed all over, and I was getting dizzy. Seeing how close she was with her folks, I didn’t get why she just didn’t tell them what was bugging her. But people always had complicated shit going on with their parents. Not having any meant I saw through that crap more easily. Of course, that wasn’t strictly true. I might still have a mother, but I preferred not to know where.
“So what do I have to look forward to tonight?” I asked.
“I’m going to do all the things you suggested: be nicer and more affectionate.”
She awkwardly slipped her arm around my waist. Unfortunately, her right boob rested on my bicep, and my cock immediately rose to attention. Not exactly what I wanted before sitting down to a family dinner. I pulled away from her.
“Why don’t we hold off on all this crap until someone can see us?”
I left the bedroom. Em followed, grumbling. “Okay, but I think it’s pretty obvious that we’ve barely touched before.”
I spun around. “I’m the one who said we should practice.”
And at the sight of her beautiful, pissed-off face looking up at me, I lost my mind. There were only so many times you could put food in front of a starving man.
I grabbed Em’s shoulders and drew her closer. Then I bent my head down and kissed her. She tasted like I knew she would—sweet, fresh, and pure. Her mouth was soft and responsive. While I only meant to kiss her briefly, it was too good to stop. She parted her lips, and I breathed in her perfect essence. Her body was soft against mine, and there was this insane inevitability about us.
This is how it should be. That was the only thought echoing in my brain as I kissed her harder and harder. It was only when Em pushed her hands against my chest that I 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 I got down to the landing, she was waiting.
“Ready?” she asked and held out her hand. Her hand felt as soft as the rest of her.
“Who’s all coming anyway?” My voice was hoarse.
“I don’t know anyone. 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 now we get families too.”
“It’s like what Mase and Abby do,” I 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.” My confession surprised me. Maybe there was truth serum in those mung beans.
“Why don’t you then?” Em asked. “I could help you. I love to cook and entertain.”
“Yeah, maybe.” Everything with Em was confusing. How were we going to go back to being—whatever it was we used to be?
But I had no time to worry. The doorbell was ringing, and the already cluttered house was soon full of people.
At dinner, I was seated between Em and a shy Syrian woman named Haya.
“Which dish did you bring?” I asked Haya, with eating motions to make sure she understood. Everyone 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 my plate.
I ate a forkful. It was spicy, meaty, and delicious. I gave Haya a thumbs-up. A wide smile broke across her face, and she added even more to my plate.
People were talking over each other in a mixture of languages and hand signals. I could hear Hannah telling Sky, Em’s sister, about how I 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. And it was my childhood fantasy come true. As the only kid with two older grandparents, I always wanted a big, loud family. Hanging out with my hockey teammates was close but having all ages was even better—like a real family.
Em was holding a fidgety toddler on her lap so his mother could eat. She leaned against me, and I liked the weight of her. As she cooed to the kid, it felt weirdly like the three of us were together.
“I hope this meal is okay,” she said.
“I like it,” I replied honestly.
While the clean-up was going on, I took a few of the kids outside to play hockey. I always kept a couple of sticks in the back of the truck, and Hannah dug out some plastic ones from a crammed back shed.
There was no net, so I set up little pylons. I gave the kids a few shooting tips, but mostly I 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,” I said. The boy watched me with wide brown eyes as I raised my 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.
The other kids copied her. “Yah!”
“Yah!”
“Yah!”
They all yelled loudly and then laughed.
Em came outside, bundled up in a down jacket. “You’re not teaching them your ridiculous goal celebrations, are you?”
“What’s wrong with my cellies?” I asked.
“They’re overkill. You once rode the stick in a blowout.”
“Seriously? You remember all my goal cellies? Never took you for a puck bunny.”
Em mumbled something about her good memory and blushed. She turned pink at the slightest embarrassment.
I’d noticed that Em still came to the occasional game. I figured she came to hang out with Abby and Sophia. But she was right. It took an a-hole to do cellies in a meaningless game.
“The only time I do goal cellies is when we play the Raiders. We’re always trash-talking because I used to play for them.” Then I realized who was on the Raiders. “Wait. Do you still come to see Lucas play?”
Her cheeks went from pink to blotchy red. “I like to see him lose.”
Jesus, she should just burn his photos and exorcise the guy.
“That ain’t healthy.” I turned back to the kids. They were running around like madmen.
“Keep your sticks down,” I called out. Nobody was losing a tooth under my watch.
One of the bigger kids went in the house, and Em picked up his stick and started to play. She was hooting and goofing like the kids. When the kid came back out, Em handed him the stick and came to stand beside me.
“I am over him. Really,” she said.
I didn’t believe her, but it wasn’t my business.
She kept explaining. Was she convincing me or herself? “It’s harder when I’m home because so many things remind me of Lucas. It just seems unfair that he gets to go on with his perfect life. I wish that something bad would happen to him, but nothing ever has.”
“Life is unfair, Em.” That was a simple truth. If she didn’t get that it was because nothing really shitty had ever happened to her.
“I’ve been thinking about what you said, you know about people not liking Lucas. Did the hockey team really not—”
I interrupted her. “If you want to get over your ex, don’t let him take up real estate in your brain.”
Now this whole Christmas caper was making more sense to me. Maybe Em’s parents were lukewarm on her new boyfriends because they could see that she wasn’t really ready to move on. Em was quiet now. Weirdly, I could actually see her thinking because she concentrated so hard. Finally, she seemed to come to some sort of conclusion.
“You’re right, Ian. Thank you.”
Whoa. I was right? Mark this day down in history.
Then Tarek scored again, and this time he raised his arms and yelled.
“Perfecto,” I told him and held my hand out for a high five. He did the hand slap with a gleeful smile splitting his face.
“You’re a real Canadian now,” I told the kid.
When he turned back to play, Em was beaming at me. “You’re really good with kids.”
I shrugged. “It’s just hockey.”
She came up close. For a moment, I thought she was going to kiss me, then she hip-checked me into the nearest snowbank.
“That’s part of hockey too,” Em said, giggling.
I got up and brushed the snow off. “You’re gonna pay for that.”
I went after Em to the delighted shrieks of the kids.