The More Boys I Meet
Fifteen
“What do you mean you’re not coming home for Thanksgiving?!” came the super pissed off voice of my so called bestie.
I sighed. “I was hoping the text would suffice.”
“And how did that work out for you?”
I tried not to laugh and I waved Rachel goodbye as she left for Thanksgiving break. “Have fun!” she whispered.
I covered the mouth piece and Pat yelling at me. “Thanks! You too! Say hi to your parents for me!”
“Will do! Say hi to your boys,” she winked, walking out with her bags. I turned my attention back to my best friend yelling profanity at me.
“Patty, I have a lot due and I need the work. I have three papers due when Thanksgiving is over. And work!” I repeated.
“I circled this goddamn holiday on your calendar,” he said darkly.
“My grades over a holiday. . . .” I pretended to think. “I want to graduate sweetie,” I told him gently.
“I HAVEN’T SEEN YOU SINCE YOU LEFT BITCH! YOU COME BACK OR ELSE I AM BRINGING THANKSGIVING TO YOU!”
“You can’t,” I said simply, pulling up their schedule. “You have a game that Wednesday and that Friday.”
“It’s a four hour drive,” he reminded me.
“And you should be resting that day to prepare for said games.”
“I will figure out something,” he told me. “Mark my words.”
“Okay Pat. Mark your words.”
“I can’t talk to you right now. I just can’t,” he said dramatically and the sad part was that he wasn’t acting. “Talk to Stally.”
“Hello?” the Swede asked.
“Is he done bitching?” I asked, changing into a pair of shorts and Marcus’s tee shirt. Silly, I know but I liked wearing it. It reminded me of home. And summer. And the beach. Oh God. The beach. I missed the beach so much.
“Not by a long shot. Listen, is there any way of you coming up any time this week?” he asked.
I sighed. “I can’t. I work Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday morning.”
“We’ll think of something. Or else Kaner will just throw another tantrum. He really does miss you.”
“I deducted that in between his swearing and whining. How are the rest of the guys?”
“Johnny’s cranky and threatening Kaner. Leds and Seabs are discussing checking methods, ignoring the ruckus. Crow’s trying to play Mario. I’m talking to you trying to walk away from the hell. The usual.”
I furrowed my brow, confused. “Missing a certain Swede?” I asked. “You know, lives with you, brown hair, brown eyes, kinda shy, reserved. Remember him? I haven’t heard anything about him since I left.”
He sighed. “He’s cranky. Permanently cranky for the past forever. He’s probably at home or at the gym working it off.”
I wasn't one to get super worried, but I was concerned. “Is everything all right?” I asked.
“Beats me. He won’t tell me anything.”
“Huh. Weird. You Swedes stick together like some kind of mob usually.”
“Maybe he’ll talk to you,” Viktor tried. “Give him a call later this week maybe?”
“Yeah sure.”
“Thanks. WHOA!” he shouted. “The fuck–I gotta go Ells. Johnny and Kaner are wrestling. Seabs break this shit up!” and then he hung up.
I sighed. Should I call him? Gah, fuck it.
It rang four times and went to voice mail. “It’s me, Ellie. Just calling you obviously to see what’s shaking? Give me a call back.”
I waited half an hour and repeated the process with a different message every time. I was on my fifth. “Marcuuuuuuuusssss Kruuuuuugerrrrrr. Piiiiiicckkkk uuuupp your phoooooonnnnneeee!” I sang. “It only gets worse from here. I can keep this going all night long.”
And I did keep it up all night long. It was nearing eleven when my phone finally rang. I looked at the caller ID and picked it up. “Did you listen to all of my messages or just delete them?” I asked.
He laughed a little, but I could tell it was strained. “Nine messages Ellie? Really? Was that called for?”
“Well where were you?” I questioned him, giving up on my Women’s Studies paper for a while. It could wait until after my shift tomorrow.
“I was out,” he said vaguely.
“Any time you want to cut the shit and jump to the point, I’m waiting,” I stated plainly.
He sighed. “I was just at the gym working out a little. No big deal.”
“Kind of is. By the way Mr. Viktor Stalberg was discussing you.”
“You two discuss me?”
“No,” I said. “I asked how the guys were and you didn’t pop up so I asked and I think he’s a little worried about you.”
“I’m okay Ellie. Really.”
I looked at the phone. This wasn’t Marcus Kruger. “Who is this?” I asked suspiciously.
“Marcus. . .” he said like it was obvious.
“This is so not my Marcus. He isn’t this much of a jerk. And he calls me Ells like the rest of the guys. And he’s more shy on the phone. So what have you done with Marcus?”
There was silence on the other end of the phone. “I guess I’m just stressed is all,” he finally said.
“Well talk to me about it. I’m a good listener.”
He sighed and I knew he gave in. Most of it was about hockey and how he didn’t think he was playing up to his full potential. In half an hour he was closer to normal.
“Next time Ells,” he used my nickname and I smiled at that. “One message will do.”
“I have to admit, I kind of had fun leaving you those nine messages.”
“They were definitely. . . creative,” he struggled for the word.
“Only if you get a little more social,” I told him. “Go hang out with the guys and be a social butterfly. Okay?”
He sighed. “Yeah, yeah.”
“Oh and Marcus?”
“Yes Ells?”
“Nice goal two weeks ago. I never got a chance to congratulate you on it. It was a sweet goal.”
“Oh uh thanks,” he sounded shy again. “Bye Ellie.”
“Bye Marcus.”
I hung up and fell back against my pillows. I really wished I was going home for Thanksgiving break.
I sighed. “I was hoping the text would suffice.”
“And how did that work out for you?”
I tried not to laugh and I waved Rachel goodbye as she left for Thanksgiving break. “Have fun!” she whispered.
I covered the mouth piece and Pat yelling at me. “Thanks! You too! Say hi to your parents for me!”
“Will do! Say hi to your boys,” she winked, walking out with her bags. I turned my attention back to my best friend yelling profanity at me.
“Patty, I have a lot due and I need the work. I have three papers due when Thanksgiving is over. And work!” I repeated.
“I circled this goddamn holiday on your calendar,” he said darkly.
“My grades over a holiday. . . .” I pretended to think. “I want to graduate sweetie,” I told him gently.
“I HAVEN’T SEEN YOU SINCE YOU LEFT BITCH! YOU COME BACK OR ELSE I AM BRINGING THANKSGIVING TO YOU!”
“You can’t,” I said simply, pulling up their schedule. “You have a game that Wednesday and that Friday.”
“It’s a four hour drive,” he reminded me.
“And you should be resting that day to prepare for said games.”
“I will figure out something,” he told me. “Mark my words.”
“Okay Pat. Mark your words.”
“I can’t talk to you right now. I just can’t,” he said dramatically and the sad part was that he wasn’t acting. “Talk to Stally.”
“Hello?” the Swede asked.
“Is he done bitching?” I asked, changing into a pair of shorts and Marcus’s tee shirt. Silly, I know but I liked wearing it. It reminded me of home. And summer. And the beach. Oh God. The beach. I missed the beach so much.
“Not by a long shot. Listen, is there any way of you coming up any time this week?” he asked.
I sighed. “I can’t. I work Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday morning.”
“We’ll think of something. Or else Kaner will just throw another tantrum. He really does miss you.”
“I deducted that in between his swearing and whining. How are the rest of the guys?”
“Johnny’s cranky and threatening Kaner. Leds and Seabs are discussing checking methods, ignoring the ruckus. Crow’s trying to play Mario. I’m talking to you trying to walk away from the hell. The usual.”
I furrowed my brow, confused. “Missing a certain Swede?” I asked. “You know, lives with you, brown hair, brown eyes, kinda shy, reserved. Remember him? I haven’t heard anything about him since I left.”
He sighed. “He’s cranky. Permanently cranky for the past forever. He’s probably at home or at the gym working it off.”
I wasn't one to get super worried, but I was concerned. “Is everything all right?” I asked.
“Beats me. He won’t tell me anything.”
“Huh. Weird. You Swedes stick together like some kind of mob usually.”
“Maybe he’ll talk to you,” Viktor tried. “Give him a call later this week maybe?”
“Yeah sure.”
“Thanks. WHOA!” he shouted. “The fuck–I gotta go Ells. Johnny and Kaner are wrestling. Seabs break this shit up!” and then he hung up.
I sighed. Should I call him? Gah, fuck it.
It rang four times and went to voice mail. “It’s me, Ellie. Just calling you obviously to see what’s shaking? Give me a call back.”
I waited half an hour and repeated the process with a different message every time. I was on my fifth. “Marcuuuuuuuusssss Kruuuuuugerrrrrr. Piiiiiicckkkk uuuupp your phoooooonnnnneeee!” I sang. “It only gets worse from here. I can keep this going all night long.”
And I did keep it up all night long. It was nearing eleven when my phone finally rang. I looked at the caller ID and picked it up. “Did you listen to all of my messages or just delete them?” I asked.
He laughed a little, but I could tell it was strained. “Nine messages Ellie? Really? Was that called for?”
“Well where were you?” I questioned him, giving up on my Women’s Studies paper for a while. It could wait until after my shift tomorrow.
“I was out,” he said vaguely.
“Any time you want to cut the shit and jump to the point, I’m waiting,” I stated plainly.
He sighed. “I was just at the gym working out a little. No big deal.”
“Kind of is. By the way Mr. Viktor Stalberg was discussing you.”
“You two discuss me?”
“No,” I said. “I asked how the guys were and you didn’t pop up so I asked and I think he’s a little worried about you.”
“I’m okay Ellie. Really.”
I looked at the phone. This wasn’t Marcus Kruger. “Who is this?” I asked suspiciously.
“Marcus. . .” he said like it was obvious.
“This is so not my Marcus. He isn’t this much of a jerk. And he calls me Ells like the rest of the guys. And he’s more shy on the phone. So what have you done with Marcus?”
There was silence on the other end of the phone. “I guess I’m just stressed is all,” he finally said.
“Well talk to me about it. I’m a good listener.”
He sighed and I knew he gave in. Most of it was about hockey and how he didn’t think he was playing up to his full potential. In half an hour he was closer to normal.
“Next time Ells,” he used my nickname and I smiled at that. “One message will do.”
“I have to admit, I kind of had fun leaving you those nine messages.”
“They were definitely. . . creative,” he struggled for the word.
“Only if you get a little more social,” I told him. “Go hang out with the guys and be a social butterfly. Okay?”
He sighed. “Yeah, yeah.”
“Oh and Marcus?”
“Yes Ells?”
“Nice goal two weeks ago. I never got a chance to congratulate you on it. It was a sweet goal.”
“Oh uh thanks,” he sounded shy again. “Bye Ellie.”
“Bye Marcus.”
I hung up and fell back against my pillows. I really wished I was going home for Thanksgiving break.