Page 13 of Hockey Heart

“And for the lady?”

“Oh, a glass of red, please.”

“Okay, which one?”

“Erm, whatever’s a good one, but not too expensive, just, y’know, a normal one.”

I sounded stupid and flustered and I would have been annoyed with myself if Hayden had even noticed.

“Okay, I’ll come back for your food order when you’ve had a chance to look at the menu,” our waiter said, flashing a nervous glance at Hayden who was now aggressively chewing the nails on one of his massive paws and still pretending to read the menu.

I wondered for a moment if he could even read. What if he was just insecure and being like this because he couldn’t? He’d never even had to with being a hockey player. I could help him and bring him out of his shell and turn his life around. Imagine the world of menus and other foods that would open up to him!

“What’s potato dolphins?” He asked without looking at the waiter, who had nearly made his escape.

“Um, potato dauphinoise? It’s a sauteed potato in a rich creamy bechamel sauce that our chef prepares in a very special…”

“Yeah. That. And the wings.”

“If wecando them, how many of those would you want?”

“Like, ten pounds I guess.”

“Ten pounds! That’s quite a lot of…”

“Uhh, I know my wings. That’s what, forty wings? Forty is good.”

The waiter stood staring at Hayden with hatred burning in his eyes.

“I’ll just have the duck confit, thank you,” I said, handing my menu back to the waiter, hoping that taking his earlier recommendation might oddly smooth things over.

“Very good,” the waiter said, before fleeing. I wondered how that conversation in the kitchen would go.

“Would you really eat forty wings?” I asked after a moments more silence, trying to sound interested.

“Uh huh,” Hayden said, still not looking up from the menu.

“Gee, lotta wings! Well… What do you do when you’re not playing hockey?”

“Eat wings. Drink beer. Drive around I guess.”

“Oh. Well, do you have family here?”

He flinched at this and then decided not to answer me.

“I’m going to use the bathroom,” I finally told him, receiving no response. I really wanted to kick him under the table and tell him to have some manners, but I don’t think he would’ve noticed that either.

In the bathroom, I looked at my miserable face. I was wearing my cutest dress, my make-up delicately conjured to show off my nice eyes and mouth. My long brown hair pressed, straightened, and then lightly curled to perfection. On my neck was a soft and delightful hint of my favorite French perfume that was down to the last couple of drops inthe bottle. Not to mention all that had gone on under that dress. All this, and the man couldn’t even look at me. Was I that bad? That unworthy? I felt those old and strong feelings of rejection and torment return. The same ones that I’d spent the last five years trying to lock into a box I would never have to open again. Yet, there they were, rising again to mock me.

I took a long breath and gave myself a steely look.You get back out there and you try harder damnit! This isn’t over yet.

7

A DISASTER, PART 2

Hayden

Maybe I scared her off enough to call it quits. There was something weird about her. Notbadweird, justdifferentweird. They’re usually all giggly and say dumb things like, “Oh, you’resobig, I bet it’s massive,” or “I work out. You wanna see how tight it all is.”

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