Plié and Clout

Chapter 38: First Dinner

if we surpass post olympic in reads by the end of june I will make merch. that's the dealio. I've been wanting to make myself a wolves hoodie for two years now and i'm committing to it rn. 

anyway, so if you guys want merch too...?

-rabid

***

STEPH

It goes like this, I leave August's house, check in at the rink, go get Jilly at home, and we head out to Maine that night. Last day of practice is the 23rd, then I'm back in Regina on Christmas night, Jilly gets to stay another week.

"So, Stephan, any girls out in Regina yet? Any top models? Movie stars?"

"Ballet teachers," Jilly eyes me and takes a bite of food. This is Christmas dinner volume one. Where Jilly and I eat with Dad, and Dad's side of the family. It happens at noon. Christmas dinner volume two happens at five, and it's just about as bad.

"Oh?" Dad leans in.

"I'm dating Jilly's ballet teacher, yes, but-"

"Is she pretty?"

"What?"

"Pretty?" Dad raises his eyebrows.

"Should it matter?" I grumble.

"Yes?" He laughs it off. "Your last girlfriend, Morgan, she was beautiful. I'd hate to see you settle for less."

"What?"

"You're twenty-three, Stephan, and you're in the pros, you can get any girl you want, why settle for less?"

 I'm 24. He forgot my birthday.

"But what if I'm in love with her?" My grandma raises her eyebrows at this. "Shouldn't that be the thing that matters?"

"For you right now? No, not really," He spreads his hands. "See, because if you date someone who's famous, you get more media attention directed toward the team, and with that, you could get a bigger contract."

"I think I know how contracts work, and that's not it."

"Steph, I'm a lawyer."

"I know that," I roll my eyes at him. "But that's not how it works."

"Plus, Morgan was good for you, I saw it."

"Dad," I clear my throat. "What the hell?"

"What?"

"I," I just shake my head. "I'm going to, uh, go, I'm going to go."

"Can I meet this, new girl?"

"No!" I turn around to him, then pick up my plate to clear it. "What the fuck should it matter to you if she's pretty or not? Shouldn't you just care that I'm happy?"

"Stephan Carter!" He gets up with me. I stare him down. "I will not have you starting a ruckus on Christmas!" He wheels around the side of the table.

"Try it." I grumble. "I'm gonna go, I hope you don't mind. Thanks for dinner, Jilly, call me when you need a ride." I tip my head at her and she makes a face back at me.

"I knew it was a mistake letting you take care of her! Look at her, she's gotten all improper."

"No, Dad, she's gotten a fucking sense of individuality, now move along." I set my plate in the sink and wiggle past him, then make a run for my jacket and shoes. My grandmother stops me at the door.

"Stephan," she has a whispery tone of voice, it reminds me violently of the first nine years of my life, what I like to call the glory days.

I wish Gramps were here. He'd know what to do, what to say.

I bend over to tie my shoe. "Hey."

"Steph, I don't," She takes a deep breath. "Do you want to go for a walk, honey?"

"Yeah," I mumble. She runs her fingers through my hair and I sigh. "Mind if we just drive? It's cold out and I don't want you getting sick."

"Look at you, still a gentleman I see," She winks at me. "That's the boy I raised," I smile at this. "Not the one who swore at the dinner table, I don't know who raised that, probably that skank of a mother you have." Jesus fucking christ can't I have a break for one damned moment.

"Grandma, did you really have to say that." I sigh.

"Yes."

"I'm not going to comment." She climbs into the passenger seat of dad's truck like the spry old lady she is. Dad lets me have it while I'm here because he normally commutes in the tesla. Yes, I know, trust fund baby, shut up.

"So, she's pretty, right?" She leans over to look at me.

"Get out."

"I'm kidding, Stephan!" 

"Good!" I don't bother to laugh.

"So, what's wrong?" She tips her head to look at me.

"Nothing," I growl. "I'm fine, Dad's-"

"Your father is what?"

"Weird?" I shake my head. "He's, god, everything is all about status all the time."

"He just wants the best for you, that's all."

"No!" I turn to her, we're not even out of the driveway. "He wants me to be dating that top model again, he won't have his famous NHL son dating just a regular old girl."

"He didn't say that."

"Yeah, but he meant it."

"Sweetie, I'm sure she wasn't that bad."

"Not that bad? Grandma do you know the amount of shit she did to me?" I pull at my hair.

"What did she do?"

"Grandma, I don't, I don't want to tell you."

"You think you need to protect my innocence?" She laughs. "Darling, you know your grandfather and I-"

"No, I'm not telling you."

"Why?"

"Because you're going to act like the damned rest of them!" I laugh over my own pain. "You're just going to ask me why I, a professional athlete, couldn't stand up to just a girl." I grab my hair.

"Well, is the ballet teacher better than that?"

"Yes," I grunt. "You'll meet her soon, I just, I don't want dad to meet her, he'll make her feel like shit, and," I clear my throat. "I just, I don't need it again."

"Well," She raises her eyebrows and they seem to just keep going up. "You're a grown man now, Stephan, but your father is still your father."

"I, I don't really care? I don't like him, that's for sure."

"But you love him anyway because he's your father."

"Do I?"

"Yes?"

"Because I don't think I do, I really don't." I run my hands through my hair a couple of times.

"Stephan!" There's a call from the door. "Mom!" Aunt Lola. "Dessert!"

"You coming in for pie?"

"No."

"Well, I am, so," She shrugs. "Run off to your mother's now, she'll have something nasty cooked, you'll miss my pie."

"Sorry, Grandma," I sigh. "I wish I could stay."

"See you later, Stephagator." She shakes my shoulder then jumps out of the truck. I drive out the second all the doors close.

Right to the beach.

Then to my phone.