Read Online Interference by Michelle Berry - Free Book Online
Authors: Michelle Berry
Tags: Fiction
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Trish says. âDonât you think this is fun?â Trish is panting beside her. They watch three other women skate out and take their positions. There is another woman standing with them behind the boards but they donât know her. Trish smiles and the woman smiles back and says, âWoo hoo,â and Trish grins. The woman says, âAll I keep saying out there is âshit shit shitâ every time I miss the puck. âWoo hooâ is much better.â
They all laugh.
Dayton tries to remember the last time she did something like this. She thinks it was grade seven, volleyball, that was the last time she played a team sport. After that it was all jazz dancing and ballet and gymnastics and swimming and figure skating and aerobics. Stuff girls do for themselves, not for a team. It feels good to be present with a bunch of women and not have to talk about anything much, not have to serve wine or worry about saying the right thing. Not have John hovering over her, watching everything she does, everything she says. And who cares about what you look like under all this equipment, under this costume? Who cares if you are buxom or flat-chested? Who cares if you are blond or brunette? Your bruises and scars donât show underneath all of this padding.
The worst thing that ever happened to Dayton was when John came home from work and told her. After all she had put up with. Weeks theyâd been fighting. Years, it sometimes seemed. Before their rushed marriage, before they told anyone Dayton was pregnant, they fought about everything and anything. Any little thing. What kind of toothbrush to buy, where to shop for curtains, whether to even get curtains or get blinds. Everything. They both knew they shouldnât have married, of course they shouldnât have. But they did. Because they thought it was the right thing to do. Because John was transferred from Toronto to California and Dayton needed a reason to follow him. But then he came home one day and everything was still and quiet, Carrie was sleeping, and he came right out with it. For no reason other than the sudden quiet of their home. They werenât arguing. Or talking. They didnât even say hello first. He laughed. Dayton knew, of course she knew. John was John. Sometimes home, sometimes not home, always distant. Mostly angry. Shouting. Mostly selfish. Mostly self-absorbed. Dayton thought, later, that if he hadnât said anything, if he hadnât said, âIâm seeing someone else,â she would have gone on with life the way it was and she probably wouldnât have changed anything. Carrie was brand new, California was new. Life was new and John could have done exactly what he wanted, like he always did, if he just hadnât told her. Most of the time Dayton is mad at him not for having the affair, but for telling her about it. For making it come out in the open, making her feel more ashamed than she already did. If he had only kept his big damn mouth shut.
And Dayton knows that when she thinks this way she sounds exactly like her mother. Ignore the obvious. Push your problems away. Get on with life no matter what. The sick thing is that Dayton grew up watching her mother make mistakes and promising herself she wouldnât make the same ones. Here she is, though, now in the same position as her mother.
Buxom. Implants? Really, John, really?
Maybe men canât surprise us, but we sure can surprise them.
He never, for a moment, saw it coming. That fact Dayton is sure of.
Stepping out of the bench and onto the ice, Dayton sails towards the puck, towards the net. She takes her stick back as far as she can without hitting anyone and she whacks at that little black thing and suddenly her team is roaring. She hit the puck. She actually hit the puck and it slid wildly, out of control, straight into the net.
Later on, in the change room, Trish says, âHey, Dayton, it doesnât matter that it went into our net, it
They all laugh.
Dayton tries to remember the last time she did something like this. She thinks it was grade seven, volleyball, that was the last time she played a team sport. After that it was all jazz dancing and ballet and gymnastics and swimming and figure skating and aerobics. Stuff girls do for themselves, not for a team. It feels good to be present with a bunch of women and not have to talk about anything much, not have to serve wine or worry about saying the right thing. Not have John hovering over her, watching everything she does, everything she says. And who cares about what you look like under all this equipment, under this costume? Who cares if you are buxom or flat-chested? Who cares if you are blond or brunette? Your bruises and scars donât show underneath all of this padding.
The worst thing that ever happened to Dayton was when John came home from work and told her. After all she had put up with. Weeks theyâd been fighting. Years, it sometimes seemed. Before their rushed marriage, before they told anyone Dayton was pregnant, they fought about everything and anything. Any little thing. What kind of toothbrush to buy, where to shop for curtains, whether to even get curtains or get blinds. Everything. They both knew they shouldnât have married, of course they shouldnât have. But they did. Because they thought it was the right thing to do. Because John was transferred from Toronto to California and Dayton needed a reason to follow him. But then he came home one day and everything was still and quiet, Carrie was sleeping, and he came right out with it. For no reason other than the sudden quiet of their home. They werenât arguing. Or talking. They didnât even say hello first. He laughed. Dayton knew, of course she knew. John was John. Sometimes home, sometimes not home, always distant. Mostly angry. Shouting. Mostly selfish. Mostly self-absorbed. Dayton thought, later, that if he hadnât said anything, if he hadnât said, âIâm seeing someone else,â she would have gone on with life the way it was and she probably wouldnât have changed anything. Carrie was brand new, California was new. Life was new and John could have done exactly what he wanted, like he always did, if he just hadnât told her. Most of the time Dayton is mad at him not for having the affair, but for telling her about it. For making it come out in the open, making her feel more ashamed than she already did. If he had only kept his big damn mouth shut.
And Dayton knows that when she thinks this way she sounds exactly like her mother. Ignore the obvious. Push your problems away. Get on with life no matter what. The sick thing is that Dayton grew up watching her mother make mistakes and promising herself she wouldnât make the same ones. Here she is, though, now in the same position as her mother.
Buxom. Implants? Really, John, really?
Maybe men canât surprise us, but we sure can surprise them.
He never, for a moment, saw it coming. That fact Dayton is sure of.
Stepping out of the bench and onto the ice, Dayton sails towards the puck, towards the net. She takes her stick back as far as she can without hitting anyone and she whacks at that little black thing and suddenly her team is roaring. She hit the puck. She actually hit the puck and it slid wildly, out of control, straight into the net.
Later on, in the change room, Trish says, âHey, Dayton, it doesnât matter that it went into our net, it
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