Page 81 of The Import Slot
I hear someone whisper, asking if she’s single, and I brace myself. Johnny’s head snaps back in the general direction of the hushed conversation, his eyes wide. He doesn’t say anything, but someone coughs, and the chatter resumes.
“So, did you ask Jen about Canada?” Johnny says.
“Yeah, I did. She said yes.”
“Wow! Congratulations.”
“Thanks. My dad gave me an earful last night, though.”
“About what? Jen?”
“Yeah, but I haven’t told him I asked her to come back with me or that we’re together or anything. He saw a photo I posted online, and he’s mad because he thinks my focus will shift and I’ll not give hockey as much attention.”
“Is he joking? You’re focused. In fact, I’d argue that you have a little of something more to you these days, thanks to Jenna.”
“I honestly don’t know why he’s so pissed about it. He called her a bunny.”
Johnny scoffs, “She isn’t one of those, that’s for sure. She’ll get used to the lifestyle pretty quickly too. Bunnies don’t. Vicky didn’t want the hassle, but I’m sure Jen will be fine.”
“What hassle?”
“The hassle of the lifestyle. Girls throwing themselves at you, you hardly being home, constant functions and shit. I’m surprised you need to ask. You’ve lived it.”
Yeah, I’ve lived it, but as a single man. This is all stuff I had in the back of my mind, but nothing I’d actively discussed with Jen. He doesn’t stop there though; he goes on and on about how much I’ll get back into it and won’t have much time for Jen, and is she really prepared for that?
I’ve never heard him get so passionate about something like this before. It’s like it’s now his favourite subject, and he wants to talk about how crap it will be for us when I’m back in Canada. And then it clicks.
Johnny is jealous.
He’s jealous of Vicky and Liam for trying to make a go of it, hence why he’s still pissed at Vicky, and he’s jealous that Jen and I are trying to make something of us.
“Are you jealous, bud?” I ask, calling him out. “And I don’t mean of me and Jen. I mean, of anyone trying to be happy in a relationship.”
He scoffs. “Not at all.” But the look on his face says it all. “I just think you’re rushing into such a big decision.”
“You’re the one who encouraged me to ask her to go with me! We’re hardly getting married, John.”
“Just making sure you understand, that’s all.”
“What the hell has gotten into you?” I ask.
“Nothing,” he snaps, but I’m still glaring at him. I don’t let up, keeping my eyes fixed in his direction, even when he looks away. He gazes out the window for a few minutes, and I continue staring at him. I’d like to think I can do this all day, but the motion sickness is getting to me.
Thank fuck he gives in moments later.
“Fine, I am jealous,” he says. “Jen is so understanding of it all, and Sarah wasn’t. She just saw it as a stupid game. She didn’t care about what I wanted, really. She just wanted me to herself. She wanted me to always be about, at her every beck and call, but we know that’s not how this gig works.” I know what line of thought Johnny is taking. “I think that’s why I’ve shut myself off. I haven’t even tried for casual sex, man. Yeah, a few things here and there, but I’m not interested.”
I didn’t know Sarah all that well, but I remember him saying how much she used to go on and on about Johnny’s time away from home. That wasn’t the lifestyle she wanted, which is okay. You do you and all that, but it’s part of who Johnny is, and as far as I’m concerned, she didn’t love him.
“Forget about her, but please don’t try to piss all over everyone else’s attempts at happiness. Is this why you’re pissed at Vicky, too? And you didn’t want her marrying my brother?”
“I’m pissed at Vicky for not telling me and because I don’t trust him with that reputation, he’s got. Sorry man, but I don’t. All that creeping around they did back in Abby too.”
“He’s only ever loved her, man. And I think he only ever will.” I leave it at that, not wanting to make Johnny feel even worse than he already does. “Anyway, let’s talk hockey,” I say, tapping his notebook and naturally, he spends the next hour talking to me about the shortcomings of my line as if he plays wing. I appreciate his input, but I wouldn’t dream of telling him how to do his job. He’s the captain, not the coach.
I’m grateful when we finally reach a rest stop. We all pile out and go to head inside, but Vicky rounds us all up like cattle. She uses the rest stop as an opportunity to get a picture of us next to the coach in our new clothes. A hoodie with the team’s name, our number, matching sweatpants, and baseball caps. It’s like something from a field trip.
“You look adorable,” Jen says, hovering close by as soon as Vicky dismisses us.
