Free There's a Shark in My Hockey Pool by Dave Belisle Page B

of throw pillows. Teddy bears without
their limbs. Definitely a woman thing. Derek pictured her lounging
in one of them, lost in a Marbelline ad in the latest issue of
Elle-Bound Women. She was wearing white. White frills. No socks.
Dainty feet. He wasn't a foot man per se. He just knew good ones
from bad. If the shoe fit, she didn't have to be Cinderella.
Sylvie's voice from the kitchen brought him back before his mind
could divulge and divest any more.
    "Can I get you something to drink?" she
called from the kitchen.
    "Whiskey. Pack o' Spaniels ... if ya got
it."
    Marcotte sat down on a dark blue sofa with a
floral print that hadn't run too rampant. The end tables were light
brown with a parquet pattern. Did people who like parquet fantasize
about basketball courts? Derek remembered as a kid how he was awed
by the checkerboard pattern of the outfield grass at Oakland's
Alameda County Coliseum. Try as he might to recreate it with the
lawn mower in his backyard, he only wound up wasting gas.
    Sylvie entered the room with their drinks and
sat down beside him. He took a long quaff. She watched him
carefully as his Adam's apple bobbed once, then twice.
    "So ..." she began.
    The buzz from the whiskey lifted and took off
for Tennessee. Heads up. A pitch was coming in, high and tight.
When a woman started off a conversation like that, it meant one
thing -- chin music.
    "So ... what?" Derek said sheepishly.
    "Tell me about Helen."
    He was about to set his drink down, when he
spotted a stack of coasters out of the corner of his eye. Women
appreciated it when a man picked up on nuances like this. He
reached for one and set himself up, looking as sophisticated as a
.120 breathalizer reading made possible. Some people's coasters
were camouflaged. These were intentional "embarrass the guest"
devices. Other coasters were testaments to wooden mazes. Success
was only guaranteed to those who possessed a double major ... in
architecture and archeology. If they weren't cardboard, they should
simply have "COASTER" stamped right on them. It was one of those
questions Marcotte was saving for the "Stump the Lord" booth on the
St. Peter midway. How many times had he missed using a coaster when
one was staring him in the face?
    Sylvie was definitely an out-in-the-open
coaster girl.
    "Uh ... yeah. Do you want the demographics or
background info?"
    "Whichever is more user-friendly."
    Derek smiled at how close Sylvie was without
knowing it. When it came right down to it, Helen was a computer
that needed upgrading. She processed information that was given her
... and she was handy to have around. But a week would sometimes
pass before she'd tell him something he didn't know.
    "She's 34, a good cook and does
needlepoint."
    "So why are you here with me tonight?"
    "She's 34, a good cook and does ..." He
turned serious. "We've been living together for eight years now.
For the past two I've been comfortably numb. Before that was a year
of anemia. But that was a step up from being just plain
unconscious."
    That was good enough for the boys in the bar.
It got a laugh and they went back to the game on the big screen.
With Sylvie however, he knew he'd already said too much and she was
lining up follow-up questions like a news-ed sophomore who's just
bumped into Salmon Rushdie.
    They looked at each other. She could almost
sense the crushed carpet beneath their feet vibrating, ever so
slightly. The carpet's dirt settled in deeper as she prepared to
examine the dirt on Derek. This was heavy shit. She had one foot
inside his emotional closet. The quickness and ease wasn't too
surprising however, given Derek's penchant for hitting problem
areas head on. He wasn't pulling any punches. Men were barbarians
when it came to emotions.
    "Comfortably numb? Unconscious? Are we
talking about an overdose or a car wreck here?
    "A little of both actually, " Derek said.
"Helen was there when I needed her. She had the kind of bedside
manner that made it too easy to get used to her.