Chapter 4 #2
Well, I’ve been asked to work on a fundraising project with her.
It’s close enough to the truth. No way I’m telling anyone about the fake-couple aspect.
I noticed that Cleo disliked me, but I didn’t stress about it.
Now she tells me it’s because I got her brother kicked off the team and killed his hockey career.
Zee raises a skeptical eyebrow. That’s a bit of a stretch. The fact that he’s a racist asshole is what got him kicked off the team. As for his hockey career, he’s good enough to get a chance to play somewhere else.
Unless the other coach called Coach Norman first. Our coach wouldn’t be allowed to give specifics on a player’s dismissal, but there are ways to hint that someone might not be an asset.
Jordan Nelson was involved in an in-game incident with a Black player from another team. That team filed a complaint, and during the investigation, Monarch administration asked if there had been any other problems with Nelson.
Ordinarily, I don’t complain to anyone about racist crap. I’m only half-Japanese, but the name on the back of my jersey answers any questions about my ethnicity. Still, I haven’t experienced as many issues as other minority players, like Black or Indigenous guys.
Players insult your hair, your face, your hockey weaknesses—it’s always something, and if it’s about my race, I don’t really give a shit.
Guys like that are morons, so they attack the first thing they see.
I prefer to handle these things on the ice, even if it gets rough.
And that goes double for a teammate, because we still have to play together. No point in making enemies.
With Nelson, it had been different. He’d targeted me from the first puck drop.
There were only a couple of racist insults, and I never would have reported him because that’s not what I do.
However, as one of the few visible minorities on our team, I was asked point blank if anything had ever happened with him.
The administrator caught me off guard, and I answered honestly, even though I felt like an idiot repeating his juvenile taunts.
I’m not sure if my complaint was the last nail in his coffin, or just further proof of what kind of person he was. But I wasn’t unhappy to see him go.
So, Cleo’s never given you grief about her brother? I ask. Because if she blames the whole Athletic Council, then her animosity towards me isn’t personal.
Zee considers this. No. And we’ve had to do some captain stuff together this year.
I don’t want to have to spend time with her if she’s racist too, I state bluntly. It’s not up to me to educate people about their own stupidity. And why does she blame me and not Zee? Is that because of my race?
He nods. I get it.
We ponder in silence. Obviously, I don’t want to jeopardize a big donation, but I’m not committing myself to something toxic. I’ve developed a sixth sense about whether someone is racist, and Cleo has never set off any alarm bells. But now I’m not so sure.
Wait, do you remember Anastasia Bell? Zee asks.
I nod. The name sounds vaguely familiar.
She was a defenceman who graduated last year. Big and mobile. But more importantly, she’s Black. She and Cleo were both alternate captains last season, and I think they were buddies.
Sounds like Cleo and Jordan have nearly opposite personalities, I say slowly.
Yeah. Weird, right?
My brother and I have very different personalities, but at the core, I say, pointing to my heart, our values, our beliefs, are the same.
My family too. Zee also has an older brother, but he never talks about him. He’s even more private than I am.
Well, thanks a lot for this. I needed to talk to someone, and you’re the only person who gets it. Some of the matters discussed by the Athletic Council are like this; burdens that you want to get off your chest, but you can’t because of confidentiality.
Glad to help. And I don’t think you’re worried about Nelson, but we did the right thing.
Racism and discrimination have no place in hockey, Zee says, with the most intensity I’ve ever seen from him.
I’ve heard rumours that there was an incident in his first year of D1 hockey, and that’s how he ended up here.
I move to rise from my chair. Well, thanks again.
He reaches out a hand to stay me. Wait, there’s something else. So, you and Lana broke up?
Yeah. I sit back down. I’m surprised that he knows already since I’ve only talked to Sinc about it, and nobody else on the team has said anything yet.
But it’s been almost a week, so maybe Lana’s friends have been broadcasting the gossip.
After all, it’s good news for all the guys who want to date Lana. Or for women like Petra, I guess.
I was at a party on the weekend, and she came over to chat… in a friendly way. He watches me warily.
How friendly? I ask.
He scowls. Very.
I’m surprised at how much this hurts. It’s so soon.
Yes, I’ve accepted our breakup, but that doesn’t mean my feelings for Lana are automatically erased.
I still care about Lana, and seeing her with someone else will hurt.
But seeing her with one of my teammates would be brutal.
I’m not some caveman who stakes claims on my exes; Lana can date whoever she wants.
But she always maintained she wasn’t interested in hockey players until she met me.
However, Zee isn’t your average hockey player. He’s confident, smart, and the best player on our team. He’s charming and well-dressed; in short, he has the kind of sophistication that would appeal to Lana.
He continues, I would never date a teammate’s ex, especially so soon after they broke up.
Zee is actually famous for not dating anyone longer than a few weeks, and Lana is all about commitment, so logically they could never work. But I’m beyond logic right now.
I try to keep the emotion out of my voice. That feels in character for you. You always put the team first. Back in junior hockey, when a guy dated a teammate’s ex, it always fucked things up: team chemistry, friendships, concentration.
I just wanted to warn you. It felt to me like something personal. I don’t know her well enough to say for sure, but that was my impression.
I thank him for the heads-up. If shit is going down, it’s good to be prepared. Lana is proud, so I’m sure she wants her next boyfriend to be someone better than me. She’s the one who told me that Mustang hockey players are at the top of the Monarch dating pyramid. Ridiculous.
Zee walks me to the door and puts a hand on my shoulder. All this bullshit will pass.
I nod as I put on my boots. Now I have all the information I can get. While I have friends on the women’s team, asking for their opinions on Cleo might cause gossip within their team. Besides, this is my decision to make.
A bitter wind chills me as I cross the yard to my house. As I walk in, Sinc grabs me by the arm and pulls me back towards the door.
There’s a chick here. She’s been waiting to see you, he whispers.
I hang up my coat and scarf. I wasn’t expecting anyone.
He lowers his voice even more. This is… weird.
Weird? What do you mean? I ask, but decide to go into the living room and find out for myself.
There’s a woman sitting on the couch. She’s dressed like a rock star in a short skirt, high boots, and a brown suede vest over a low-cut top. Bergy is beside her, chatting away. Swanny and Ethan are seated across from them, both trying not to laugh.
Mats! Finally. She pops up and strides over to see me. She flings her arms around my neck and gives me a big hug, pushing her ample chest into mine.
For the second time this afternoon, I’m taken aback. I have no idea who she is. I pull away.
I’m sorry. We were supposed to meet?
No, silly. But I’ve been messaging you and you never seem to read your DMs. So, I thought I’d deliver the message in person, she says.
She’s leaning too close to me, and I keep backing away. We’re practically in the hallway now. Uh, what message is that?
I’d like to invite you over to my place. Just to chill. Then she winks one thickly lashed eye at me, pulls me towards her by the belt, and purrs, Tonight’s good.
Since I’ve already had practice refusing dates today, I repeat, I’m sorry, but I just broke up with someone. So, I’m taking a break now.
Well, that’s a waste. You know what they say, the best way to get over one woman is to get under another one. She whispers into my ear, And I’d ride you like a cowgirl. Yeehaw. She starts to move her hand from my belt to my crotch, so I jump away. For fuck’s sake, I don’t even know her name.
Well, thanks for coming by. I help her into her coat, which has a sheepskin collar and more rocker vibes.
She stuffs a slip of paper into my jeans pocket and smiles. Call me.
Once she’s gone, I lock the door, lean against it, and exhale.
Ethan cackles from the living room. That was better than watching reality TV.
I rejoin my roommates and collapse onto the couch. What the fuck is going on? That’s the second time today that a complete stranger has asked me out.
Bergy scowls at me. Why did you turn Francesca down? I would have hit that in two seconds.
Swanny snorts. You had fifteen minutes to make your case, but she wasn’t buying what you were selling.
Well, it didn’t help that you guys were making fun of me the whole time, Bergy complains.
Sinc shakes his head. I don’t blame Mats for turning her down. She was coming on way too strong.
Let’s get back to my question: Why is this happening at all? I ask.
Let me guess—you haven’t looked at your social media in weeks, Ethan says.
I think I posted something at Christmas. I’m not really into all that bullshit.
Check it now, he directs.
When I look, I have a lot of messages, all of them with similar requests. Many sound a bit like Petra, asking if I’m unhappy and want to unload.
Is this some kind of prank? Why are women I’ve never met asking me out?
Ethan shakes his head. Is there something in the water up in Canada? Why are you and Sinc both so clueless about women?
Hey. I’m just sitting here and catching strays, Sinc protests.
I hold up a hand. Look, I realize I’m not unattractive. But this is bizarre. Of course, women ask me out. But it’s usually someone I know—not complete strangers. And not via DMs.
Ethan’s sigh is long-suffering. Okay, I’m going to explain this like you’re five years old: Lana, your lovely ex, is a master of social media.
I nod. Of course, because her part-time job is managing the official Monarch College social media accounts.
He continues, So, on her personal account, she posts photos of the two of you. After games, on romantic dates, nice gifts you’ve given her. Black-and-white photos of you looking kind of emo. Were you not aware of this?
I shrug. Lana takes a lot of photos, and I had to take a lot of photos of her. She edits them, but she never mentions when she posts something. I pull up her personal account and scroll through. Wait, there are no photos of me at all. What are you talking about?
Ethan rolls his eyes. Duh. Okay, five-year-old Mats, here’s what happened: Lana made you into the Perfect Internet Boyfriend and everyone wished they could go out with you.
Then, one day, poof—all the photos are gone.
Which means you guys have broken up, and now it’s open season on Roy Matsumoto.
Women start DMing you, but clueless Mats never sees any of the messages, so they start escalating to Stage Two: meetups IRL.
I wince when he says IRL out loud. But all this is kind of mind-blowing.
Lana saw me as an ideal? She seemed constantly disappointed by my failure to remember things like the one-month anniversary of our first date or her favourite dessert.
She was always complaining about my lack of small talk.
And, at the end, she said I was too much work.
Then it hits me. Maybe I haven’t seen all her photos, but I was there for the photoshoots.
Gym workouts where she encouraged me to sweat more.
Expensive dinner dates. Candid photos of me reading or watching sad movies.
Even intimate selfies of us, which I never dreamed she’d post. Now, I have to question exactly what was real.
And Lana always told me not to smile for photos.
You look hotter like that, she’d said. That must have been her way of getting around my biggest flaw—according to her—that I was too quiet and serious.
She made me into some kind of Byronic hero to impress…
who? Her friends? Her followers? Strangers on campus?
And now women think I’m a miserable bastard, wandering the fucking moors of St. Viola pining for love lost. No wonder Petra sounded so pitying.
I groan. I am so far from the perfect boyfriend. Women who believe this will only be disappointed. Let’s not encourage any more of this bullshit.
This is like an alternate reality. Does everyone know about this? Sinc asks.
Everyone except you social media Luddites, Swanny replies. So, we’re not letting any more members of Mats’s fan club into the house, then?
Please don’t. I feel a little nauseous at all this attention. It’s not flattering at all, since no one actually knows the real me. What am I going to do about all these messages?
Ethan snorts. What you need is a new girlfriend to scare them off.
No way. Now that I know how dangerous dating at Monarch can be, I feel like swearing off women until graduation.
The guys laugh. They think I’m kidding, but I’m not. I have goals around hockey and my future, and I intend to achieve them. Zee’s policy of no long-term relationships is starting to make sense. He never has to go through shit like this.
Do you think Lana would do a promo campaign for me? Bergy wonders. And Mats, if you’re not going to date these women, could you pass my info on?