twenty

“I’m nervous!” Meghan said, adjusting her outfit in the mirror for the one hundredth time.

“First you don’t want to go out with the guy, now you’re freaking out about meeting his mom.  All because you got in his pants.”  Lucy tossed her hairbrush aside.  She didn’t care what she looked like.  John’s friend was cute - she’d looked him up online - but that about as off limits as James Neal.  Her job for the day was emotional support.

Meghan made a face at her reflection.  Her purple sundress was perfectly acceptable barbeque wear; it had a scoop neck and fell almost to her knees.  That was not the problem.  She also figured a guy like John didn’t just come from any parents, so the Tavares’ had to be pretty great.  The issue was just her inner confusion over why she wanted so badly for this to go right, if it wasn’t going anywhere long-term.

“Stop thinking about it,” Lucy said.

“What?”

“That you’re about to meet your future mother-in-law.”

Meghan fell back onto Lucy’s bed in a mock faint.

____

Sam had been keeping a casual lookout from his spot on the Tavares’ deck.  When he spotted two girls climbing out of a green Nissan, he knew it was game time.  “She’s here,” he said quietly.

John had only told his parents he was inviting “some friends.”  They were not surprised to see Sam, of course, who was practically their son too.  They wouldn’t have been surprised to see any number of NHL superstars roll up onto their porch.  But a girl?  John wasn’t sure.

“Hey,” he called, taking the outdoor stairs to the side of the house where Meghan was approaching.  Her dress was so pretty he immediately wanted her not to be wearing anything.  She’d put on a little makeup, some diamond stud earrings and flat white sandals.  They both stopped a few feet apart.

“Hi.  This is Lucy.”

John felt Meghan’s friend take him in like a car at the dealership.  He’d gone with shorts and a Blue Jays t-shirt, not wanting to try too hard.  Lucy had short, dark blond hair that curled whichever way it wanted and a wicked smile that appeared after her quick inventory.

“Hi John,” she gave his hand a nice firm squeeze like she was kicking the tires.  “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Nice to meet you.  This is Sam.”

Sam and Lucy made friends while Meghan and John did their usual ‘stare at each other from close range and try not to touch’ routine.  He wanted so badly to take her hand, to reassure her that this was no big deal.  His parents were cool.  She looked amazing.  This wasn’t supposed to be so scary.

“Hey girls!”  John’s father took the matter into his own hands.  Trotting down the stairs was a shorter, squarer version of John.  “I’m Joe.  Glad you could come over.  We’ve got plenty of food and beers, and honestly Sam gets kind of annoying after fifteen years so you can keep him company.”

Sam slugged Joe on the arm, the girls laughed.  John kept right on staring at Meghan.  When his dad had disappeared into the garage in search of a grilling tool, they went up to the party.  About twenty people John had known forever were lounging around.  A few mismatched tables had been pulled outside, an assortment of chairs gathered around.  There was a side buffet of food, more snacks on every table and a huge grill stood open and hot, ready for the pile of chicken and burgers next to it.  A blond woman broke away from her conversation.

“Mom, this is Meghan and Lucy,” John said, his voice stiff.  “This is my mom, Barbara.”

“Hi girls, nice to meet you.”  She was almost her husband’s height with shoulder length blond hair pulled back from her face and a smile like her son’s.

“Hi,” Meghan replied as normally as possible.

Lucy held out the plastic container she’d been carrying.  “Meghan made macaroni salad.  She’s a really good cook.”  

“I hear you’re used to being around hockey players, you must know to keep them fed.” Barbara took the food, told everyone to make themselves comfortable.  The moment she walked away, Lucy snickered.  

“Smooth,” Sam said, then imitated Lucy.  “Meghan’s a really good cook!”  They both laughed.

John cut in.  “You didn’t have to bring anything.”

“I’m not showing up empty-handed to meet your mom,” Meghan insisted.  “And that is really good salad!”

He introduced them to a few more people while Meghan tried to remember everyone’s name and relationship.  Finally they made it to the back yard and an open table.  Sam grabbed beers from a cooler and passed them around, then deliberately took the chair between John and Meghan.  

“Not that you two are fooling anybody,” he said.

Sam was right.  The chemistry between Meghan and John was palpable, even without speaking or touching.  They needed a barrier between them to operate normally - like the glass between the ice and the stands, or the distance between New York and Whitby.  Or James Neal.  They’d spent a lot of time without such an obstacle lately and it showed.

Sam asked Lucy about her favorite hockey team, then they started arguing about the best way to turn the Maple Leafs around.  Lucy chimed in, but credited all the ideas to her dad.  John said he was too worried about his own team to care about the Leafs.  That shut Sam up too and Lucy claimed victory.  Soon they were bantering like old friends and everyone forgot this was a ‘meet the parents’ event. There was laughter and some shouting and Meghan wiping tears from her eyes at a story Sam told.  His team had so many young guys that the pranks were over the top.

When Joe called that food was ready, John let Meghan go first.  In the hidden space between them, he rested a hand gently on her hip.  Meghan smiled with her face turned mostly away.  Joe caught the look, then caught John’s eye.  

Busted, John knew.  Still he kept his distance while they ate, met more family and friends and hung out for the afternoon.  No sense in making everyone at the party ask questions about this new girl in the purple dress.  John didn’t know how to answer them anyway - We’re dating.  Then we’re both leaving although maybe not together.

“Meghan!” boomed a voice from the porch.  John’s dad again.  They all craned around to look at him, waving a pair of tongs.  “I hear you’re good on the grill.  You wanna do dessert?”

She felt hot, then cold, then strangely fine.  Sure she could grill.  Of course she would help.  And now she knew for sure John’s parents were definitely on to them.

“Yep,” Sam said.  “Not fooling anyone.”

Meghan got up and John made to follow, but Lucy caught the sleeve of his shirt and shook her head.  John dropped back into his seat and watched Meghan walk her way up alone.

“Okay, we got a pro,” Joe said, making room for Meghan at the buffet table.  He’d been cutting bananas into long, thin strips.  Meghan recognized instantly what he was doing.

“Hobo packs! I haven’t done this since I was a kid.”

The idea was simple: throw a bunch of stuff in some tin foil and grill it.  Much like the grilled cheese sandwiches she’d made John, pretty much anything could go inside.  Joe handed her a pile of foil squares and she loaded each with a few pieces of banana and a big spoonful of chocolate sauce.  Then she looked around.  “Do you have any coconut?”

“Barb!  Coconut?” Joe hollered.  A blond head disappeared into the kitchen and reemerged a minute later with a bag of shredded coconut used in baking.  Meghan tossed a small handful onto each of the packs and started folding them up.  As the first few went on the grill, Joe started more.  When they came off, he started delivering them to tables.

“John’s friend made dessert,” he told everyone, as if they hadn’t heard him calling Meghan’s name.  She swore he left just enough space before the word “friend” to make it clear he meant “girlfriend.”  The idea made Meghan giddy, but there was more than excitement in her nerves.  She and John would have to be very careful how they acted in mixed company.

“Everyone loves them,” Joe said.  He put the last four packs on a plate and handed them to Meghan with a wink.  “Hope I didn’t keep you from your friends too long.”

____

No hint of evening crept into the bright summer sky, even as six o’clock approached. Meghan had her sandals off, feet in the grass, finishing a turn on a croquet set John and Sam had dug out of the basement.  A few of the Tavares’ friends were still on the porch, but the barbeque had tapered off as dinner approached.  Now it was just the kids playing on the lawn at a parent’s house, like old fashioned summer vacation.

John had been carefully casual, keeping a short distance between himself and Meghan all day.  When he could, he brushed her hand or shoulder, leaned in close to talk.  She smiled and her lashes fluttered, like she didn’t trust herself to make eye contact in close quarters.  It got tougher as the day went on - the late afternoon sun turned her skin to gold and John felt too nervous to touch her, too timid to stake any kind of claim.  The fun she’d promised - the waiting and wanting - was still there, but now that John had a taste of Meghan, he wanted pleasure over pain.

“Give me a tour,” she finally suggested, pushing her feet back into her shoes.

It wasn’t the house John had grown up in.  As soon as he could, he helped his parents buy a newer one in the same town.  They still went conservative, with a bedroom for each of their three kids.  His sisters had lived here late in high school.  Now that they were home from college, they spent as little time as possible at their parents’ house.  John had the opposite reaction to being away all year - he loved to visit.

The room set aside for him was more like a storage closet.  His mother had put in shelves and arranged a lot of his hockey trophies and medals from when he was a kid.  A few things from his pro career - the jersey he got when he was drafted first overall, his first point, goal and hat trick pucks, his All-Star Jersey were here.  It felt more natural that keeping them in his own place.  He led Meghan up the stairs, reaching for her hand the moment they were out of sight.

“Oh wow,” she said, taking in the room.  It had enough items to fill a mini John Tavares Hall of Fame, but was clearly collected with the eye of a proud parent.  Boxes stacked in a corner and a sewing machine set on one table meant the space was used for something more than just their son’s collected accolades.

“It’s kinda like a museum,” John admitted, a little embarrassed.  He didn’t want Meghan to think he was showing off.

“Are you kidding?  My mom has all kind of stuff from when we were little and we didn’t even win anything.  It’s just Christmas ornaments made out of popsicle sticks and attendance awards.  This is major!”  She peered closely at some of the photos - John had always been a bit of a goober, she knew from videos she’d seen online.  His hair was floppy, his smile quick and bashful.  Sometimes he seemed younger than his age, other times older.  It wasn’t until a year or so into the NHL that he grew into his already grown-up personality. Meghan examined a photo of John at the 2012 All-Star Game, then turned toward the real John in the room with her.  She reached up to the front of his hair and tousled it, letting it fall forward instead of back like he usually wore it.  There wasn’t a lot of length, but it was getting there.  He kept his eyes on hers and Meghan had another brush of that feeling that John didn’t think he deserved a girl like her.

“Do you like it better long?” he asked.  She let her hand fall to the side of his face, then put her lips against his.  After a long day of not touching, a sudden kiss was like famine after a feast.  The way it felt to kiss John flooded her veins.

I love you.  He really wanted to say it.  John had never been in love before - he had no idea if this was it.  But bringing her to his parents house meant he was serious.  Now, surrounded by achievement, John desperately wanted to add Meghan to that collection.  He wanted to earn her and win her and, like hockey, continue working toward that same prize forever.

“I really like you,” John blurted out instead.  Meghan blinked her eyes open, as if surprised to find the kiss over.  “It’s just..,” he stuttered.  Those words were supposed to stay in his head.  “Everyone can tell.  I’m sure my parents know.  But I wanted to tell you, in case you didn’t.  Know, I mean.”

Stoppleasestop, he begged his tongue. It was like a runaway train.

Meghan’s insides turned to bubbles.  So much for the defenses she was supposed to have, the walls meant to protect her from getting too serious.  They were no match for John or the truth.  And the truth was that no matter who said what, Meghan felt a lot more than she’d expected.  John looked suitably horrified to have just admitted his affection, which in turn made Meghan want to cry.  Elation and frustration were a strange mix.  She had made John scared of feeling happy and being honest.  She was calling a good thing bad.  

No - a great thing.

“I like you too,” she said before she could convince herself not to.  It came out a little breathless.  “A lot.”

John’s expression went from zero to sixty in under a second.  A huge smile lit up his face.  Meghan thought he wanted to holler and fist pump, like he’d just scored a big goal.

“And I will tell James,” she said.  “I promise.  Tonight when I get home.”

If there was one thing John had learned from years of hockey, it was to savor a win for as long as he could.  Through his smile, he said, “Tomorrow when you get home.”
____

 

They all left John’s parents’ house together.  Meghan tried not to read any meaningful looks between John and his parents, but from the way his mom and dad hugged her, she was sure they knew.  John got in his car, Meghan got in Lucy’s and a block away they pulled over.

“This is like a drug deal,” Lucy said as Meghan unbuckled her seat belt.

“I don’t want his parents to know I’m staying there yet!”

“Right, they’ll bring you two breakfast in bed.”

Meghan said goodbye by sticking out her tongue, then hurried into John’s waiting Audi.  It was a quick drive to his house but once they got there, instead of running upstairs like Meghan might have expected, John plopped down on the huge hair in his living room and held his arms open for her to climb in.  She settled alongside, her legs over his lap and head against his shoulder.  

They watched TV idly, both thinking about the day.  This was what couples did - hung out, took it easy.  They weren’t always tripping over each other to get to bed, or trying to outdo each other with their date ideas.  Meghan snuggled into John’s chest and felt, for the first time since meeting him, how easy it could be just to be with him.

When they finally went to bed, things were slow and steady.  Meghan wrapped her arms around John and kissed him until she felt heady and drunk.  He fought the rising tension until his knees pushed between hers on their own.  They were still kissing when he pressed inside her, when she came and when he followed a second later.  Laying spent and happy, with nowhere to go and no clock working against them, Meghan and John fell asleep early knowing there was nothing else they’d rather do.

____

“I gotta go, she’s here.”

Meghan heard the voice just before she heard the feet.  She was just inside the door of James’ houses.  John had dropped her at Lucy’s to retrieve her car, but not before keeping her in bed long enough that it doubled as a workout on his off day.  James’ words instantly made her worry.  Then she saw his face.

He crashed into her at full speed, carrying them both back against the closed door.  As he was sliding and reaching, he was lifting and swinging.  Meghan’s feet were quickly in the air.

“Whatwhatwhat?” she shrieked as he rag-dolled her around.

“I got it!  Olympic orientation camp.  I made it!”

Meghan gasped, clawing her way out of James’ embrace and back to her feet so she could hug him properly.  His shaggy hair was a mess but his smile was the biggest she had ever seen.  She threw her arms around his neck and promptly burst into tears.

“Ha, you sound like my mom!” he said, using his big thumbs to wipe beneath her eyes.  

Olympic camp.  Team Canada.  Four years ago James had been a nobody from nowhere.  Well, not to her, and apparently not to Penguins general manager Ray Shero, or to the fans in Dallas.  But he was not a marquee player and he had not been invited to the Olympics in Vancouver where Canada won the men’s hockey gold in one of the most thrilling moments in history.  He’d been in Whitby, with her, watching it on TV.  Now he was in Whitby, with her, saying this time he’d be on the TV instead.  Of course they knew he’d be invited and every sign said he’d make the final Olympic squad.  Now here it really was.

“I’m so happy for you,” she told the blurry face.

“Let’s go, my parents are waiting.  I was just waiting for you.  I think your cell is dead.”

My cell.  Meghan hadn’t even checked it since yesterday.  A pang of guilt rang through her like someone hitting the bell at the fair.  Then she thought: John.

“Who else made it?”

“Everybody.  Stammer, Subban, Crosbyofcourse,” James said in one breath.  “Skinner missed, poor kid.”

“What ah...about, what about John?” she asked.

“Yup.” James was scooping up keys and stuffing his feet into flip-flops.  It was almost one in the afternoon.  “I heard Yzerman had to leave him a message though, his phone was off.”

Meghan caught a bark of laughter just in time.  John had missed the call for the same reason she had, because they were together.  It figured.  Just the latest in the list of reasons she should keep her promise and tell James and….

“Seriously, I am so fucking happy right now.” James squeezed her tight to his side, almost crushing her.  He would remember this moment forever, so of course she wasn’t about to mess it up.

Later, she told herself.  Later.

Which was exactly when she’d have to call John.

___

There was more shouting and cheering, more hugging and a little crying at the Neal house.  Meghan made her way through the line of brothers to James’ dad Peter and finally to his mom, Deb.  She’d known these people so long they felt like her own family.  This felt like her home.  Deb’s eyes welled up and she closed Meghan in a hug almost as big as James got himself.

When the fervor died down, his mom insisted on feeding everyone.  Chairs were hauled in from other rooms, plates and forks banged everywhere.  Another meal in the chaos of a house that had always seemed to Meghan like more fun that her own.  There was endless noise and color here and she never had to clean up the mess.  Watching James’ younger brothers was like a time machine back to her own past, where she’d known that version of James.  All the Neal boys hoped to play in the NHL and it was a big deal for James that his brothers look up to him.

She glanced at him - smiling, happy, gorgeous.  For a moment Meghan thought she must be crazy for not wanting to be with him and make this family really her own.

“So tonight?  Big party?” his dad asked.

“Yeah, a bunch of the guys are going out.  Start camp a little early,” James said.  His arm was around the back of Meghan’s chair, his hand bumped her shoulder.  She was invited.  Maybe John had been too.

John.  She excused herself and snuck away.  The bathroom would have to do.

“Hi,” she said quietly when he answered.  “Congratulations!”

“Thanks. I’m still shaking,” he admitted.

Meghan beamed at her own reflection in the mirror.  “I am so happy for you!”

“Can you come over?  To celebrate?”

Her heart sank.  John had not been invited to whatever James had planned.  She couldn’t just ask him… but she’d think of a way to make it happen.  “I’m with James, at his parents’.  But I think people are going out later - would you come?  If they get it together?”

John sighed.  Of course Meghan couldn’t come right over when he’d just gotten huge, exciting news - she was with her best friend and his family.  John knew exactly how special James felt.  Now if he wanted to see her, John would have to share her, if Neal let him near her at all.

“I guess.”  He didn’t bother hiding his disappointment.

“I’m sorry, John.  I can’t do anything about it right now.  This is the best day of his life - of both your lives - so far.  Please don’t let something like this ruin it.”

She was right.  John didn’t want to be the needy, clingy type even if he did need her far more than expected.  Even if he didn’t like her spending this day with someone else.

“Okay, I promise,” he said.  “And I promise to let you make it up to me.”

“Double,” she added.

That got a laugh.  “I won’t say no.”

____

“So what’s the plan for this party?”  Meghan tossed her purse onto the couch.  They were home again, having come perilously close to being hugged to death the Neal family before leaving with an armload of food.  James’ mom agreed he was way too skinny these days.

James looked down at the beautiful girl standing in his living room, her sexy frame packed into jeans and a white and blue baseball shirt.  She fit in as well at his parents’ house as she did here, the hockey rink, a club or a fancy restaurant.  This was the kind of girl that guys spent their whole lives searching for.  How had he found it so soon, and why hadn’t he noticed sooner?

“No party,” James admitted.  “Just us.  I thought we could take the boat out, run the lights.  Haven’t done that yet this year.”  He was never good at reading faces.  Something passed across Meghan’s features - it might have been surprise - then disappeared just as quickly.  It left a little cold flare on his skin.

“I haven’t seen you much lately,” He added.  This was dangerously close to asking her on something that looked a lot like a date, but James wasn’t ready for that.  So he said, “Summer’s going by so fast.”

In another world, one where she hadn’t met John, Meghan wondered if now would be the time she fell for James.  If she just stopped swimming against the current, he might pull her right in.  There was a guy inside this guy who could be the guy she was looking for.  If she hadn’t already found him somewhere else.

“Okay, let’s go.”

Upstairs in her room, she texted John.  Despite asking him to stretch the truth for her, Meghan didn’t want to lie to him.

Meghan: No party. Going out with James on the boat.  Please don’t worry.  I can’t wait to see you.

At his house in Mississagua, John looked at his phone.  He hated every character on the screen, but the sum of their parts meant more than the words.  He hated Meghan going out with James, but even though it stung John read the message a second time and found solace in what he saw.

At least she tells me the truth, he thought.

____