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Anton gets a girlfriend, and Thomas is totally fine with it.
*
It starts like this:
“I’m going on a date, don’t wait up,” Anton calls, and Thomas frowns at the goaltending workshop schedule Veronique sent him, then rushes out of his room, leaning over the banister in the hall.
“Like a date date?” Thomas asks.
Anton glowers at him from the front hall. “Yes, like a date, are you deaf?”
Thomas isn’t deaf, it’s just that Anton hasn’t been on a date in — ever, as far as Thomas is aware. He knows Anton had a girlfriend when he was playing in the OHL, and presumably that meant he went on dates, but in the time they’ve known each other, nada. Hook ups, sure, plenty, enough some of the other single players bitched about his results, but unless Anton’s held it close to the vest — especially close since they’ve lived together — he isn’t really the dating kind.
“Have fun?” Thomas says.
Anton glowers more at him, and stomps right out the front door.
He isn’t home when Thomas goes to bed, and not when Thomas wakes up, either, though he makes two servings of breakfast, and Anton comes through the door as he’s finishing up.
“I ate,” Anton calls.
“Buckwheat pancakes,” Thomas calls back, which brings Anton to the kitchen.
“How was your date?” Thomas asks.
“Fine,” Anton says, going straight to the coffee maker.
“Going to be another?” Thomas asks.
“Yeah, think so,” Anton says. “Where’s the milk?”
“I finished it this morning, put it on the list,” Thomas says, and Anton grumbles but drinks his coffee dark — not black, since he adds enough sugar to make it murky brown and probably no longer liquid, in what’s likely silent protest to Thomas using the milk — and adds it to the list on the fridge.
That’s all that’s said about it, and all that needs to be said, Thomas thinks, because Anton doesn’t pry, and he doesn’t like other people prying either, so Thomas will keep out of it. Except every time they’re home, Anton’s ducking out the door in the evening, saying he’ll be back in the morning, and for all Thomas maybe wanted a tiny bit of solitude, he’s regretting that wish now, because the house is too big to be alone in. He knows more now that it’s not date, singular, but more like ‘dating’ — her name’s Amanda, she’s American, and she’s in grad school at McGill. That’s about all Anton was willing to say before he got that look on his face like Thomas was getting close to prying territory, and so that’s all Thomas really needs to know.
It’s still pretty lonely. He invites Carmen over for a sleepover, when they’re heading back from a short roadie. Carmen responds with “gotta check with the main mama, but she likes you, I’m sure she’s cool,”, then literally claps his hands and and kisses Thomas on the cheek, but he’s a good sleepover buddy in the end, works through a bottle of wine with Thomas, but no more, because they have practice the next morning, and is totally cool with Thomas’ movie and snack food choices. When Anton comes in the next morning, Carmen grins at him from the kitchen island.
“Hot date?” Carmen asks.
Anton pauses in the doorway.
“Why’s Carmen in my house?” he asks.
Carmen frowns. “Carmen was invited,” he says.
“Don’t use third person, you sound like an idiot,” Anton says. “Vinny, why’s Carmen in my house?”
“Carmen was invited,” Thomas says. “Eggs?”
“I ate,” Anton snaps, and goes upstairs.
“Lover’s spat,” Carmen says, sing song.
“Do you want eggs or not, Sandro?” Thomas asks.
“My lips are sealed, Vinnilicious,” Carmen promises.
Thomas makes eggs for himself and Carmen, and then Carmen drives himself and Thomas to practice when Anton stomps out, apparently quietly, and takes his car with him. Waste of gas, but he keeps his grumbling in his head, because if he said it out loud, Carmen would probably repeat it to Anton outright.
After practice Thomas scoots over to Anton. “I don’t have a car,” he says, and Anton mutters, but he finishes up practice and Thomas follows him to his spot in the parking lot.
“What were you doing inviting Carmen over?” Anton asks .
Thomas shrugs. “You’re never around anymore,” he says. “It’s too big a house to be alone in.”
Anton goes still. “If you want me home more — ” he starts.
“It’s fine,” Thomas says. He doesn’t want to be that clingy friend. TV shows and movies tell him that’s usually the pathetically in love character, and whatever, he may be pathetically in love, but he doesn’t want it to define him. “I’ll get used to it. I mean, I lived alone for years.”
Anton’s still frowning. “Vin,” he says.
“It’s not that weird to invite Sandro over, Jesus,” Thomas says, then apologises quickly to his grandmother for using the lord’s name in vain. “Don’t make a big deal out of it. Can you pop the trunk?”
Anton does, and Thomas hauls their bags in, fiddles with the radio once they’re on the move, even though it’s set to three stations Anton likes, and two Thomas does. It feels awkward again, and he hates that, and hates it even more that he doesn’t know how to fix it.
*
It’s around this time Grayson tries to set Thomas up with his wife’s sister’s something.
“No,” Thomas says flatly.
“She’s a nice girl,” Grayson says.
“I’m not looking,” Thomas says.
“Oh come on,” Carmen says, swooping in the moment he hears potential for mayhem. “You and Petrov could double date,” he adds, mean spirited. Thomas knows it was mean spirited because when Thomas narrows his eyes at him he immediately looks guilty.
“I’m not looking for a girlfriend,” Thomas repeats, snappish, and he knows, from a comical widening of Carmen’s eyes, that Anton’s probably right behind him, but what does Anton care? Thomas has never dated anyone in the entire time they’ve known each other. Anton hadn’t, either, which is irrelevant, now, but Thomas is pretty sure he’s more likely to stay un-dated, considering he doesn’t want to date anyone. Except Anton, maybe, but obviously that’s stupid, and not just because Anton has a girlfriend.
“Sorry,” Grayson says, putting his hands up. “Touchy subject?”
“No,” Thomas says. “I just.”
“No worries, bud,” Grayson says. “Won’t bug you about it again.”
“Thanks,” Thomas says, and when he turns around Anton isn’t there anymore, if he even was. Carmen’s not exactly a trustworthy source, now that Thomas thinks about it.
*
Toward the end of February they have three days off, which is a pretty rare phenomenon. No practice, no games, nothing, and it even falls over a weekend, which is rarest of all.
Gagnon took pity on them, at least that’s what Thomas thinks he meant when he looked at them after their last game, a bad loss, then canceled Saturday’s practice because, “You’re all a bunch of sorry looking sacks of shit. I don’t want to see you until Monday, and you’d better look fucking alive when I do.”
It changed the mood of the room from desperate exhaustion to relieved exhaustion, and when they get home, Thomas makes them something that takes a little more work than just taking something out of the freezer and putting it in the oven, the usual post-game meal, when it’s not Anton’s turn and therefore take-out picked up on the way home or delivery if it was a bad game and they’re sulking.
Anton sits in the kitchen with him while he cooks, though he’s busy texting.
“Want to have a boys’ night?” Thomas asks. “Saturday? It feels like forever since we had one.”
Anton looks up from his phone. “I told Amanda we’d get away,” he says. “Tremblant, probably.” His tongue hits the roof of his mouth, pronouncing the second T, so for a moment Thomas doesn’t even recognise the name.
“Oh,” Thomas says, after thinking of a dozen things to say, then discarding them. “It was just a thought.”
Doesn’t say that this is the kind of thing that’d have half the room groaning about Anton being wrapped around her little finger because it’s pretty soon for couple’s trips. That Anton doesn’t even like skiing, and it’s late in the season for it, Montreal thawing by degrees, and that it’s stupid risky to do it regardless, but then, they’re probably not going to ski. They’re probably going to get some romantic chalet and like, have sex on a bear skin rug or in a jacuzzi or something, all the things Thomas sees in movies whenever chalets are involved.
“Next time we get some time off,” Anton says, though they’re coming up to the final stretch and most teams have a couple games on them, so it’s not likely they’re going to get a break like this again until after the playoffs, and that’s not a break, that’s just summer.
“Sure, whatever,” Thomas says, and Anton’s frowning now. “Can you watch this for a second? I need to go to the bathroom.”
“Vinny,” Anton says, still frowning.
“Thanks,” Thomas says, and goes upstairs to his own bathroom, even though he doesn’t need to go. Pulls his phone out and texts Megan, want 2 come 2 mtl? Have weekend off. My treat!. Maybe Anton’s too busy for him, but Megan’s his oldest friend, she’s always liked Montreal, and they haven’t had a — not a boys’ night, but a Vin & Meg night, complete with wine and silly movies and Megan’s consistently hilarious stories about work, since he spent a few days in Ottawa during the summer. Hasn’t seen her much at all, this season, though they’ve kept in touch, just lunch when they were in town to play the Sens, which Anton tagged along for, and a couple day trips she took to Montreal.
no can do buddy eric’s taking me to t.o. sry :( rainchek tho we need a vin&meg nite! haha my phone autofilled vin&meg
That’s fine. Thomas likes Eric, he’s nice and he’s good to Megan — if he wasn’t, Thomas would know about it. Everyone can just — have their romantic couple’s weekends. Maybe Thomas can invite Carmen over, but. Probably not. He might want a romantic couple’s weekend too. Thomas doesn’t want to cramp anyone’s style. He wishes Fourns was still here. He wouldn’t be too busy for Thomas, and even if he was, if he wanted his own romantic weekend, that would just mean Thomas could babysit the girls.
4 sure let me no when ur free to come to mtl? Thomas sends back. tonys never home nemore so he wont scowl at you or nething
wait wats up with that? Megan sends back, but it’s probably been too long for a bathroom break, and Anton’s going to burn the food if Thomas takes any longer. He runs the tap, even though it’s not like Anton can hear from down there, goes back downstairs, where Anton’s still frowning, but this time at the pan, which is faintly smoking.
“Here to save the day,” Thomas says, bumping Anton away with his hip before he ruins the food. It’s still salvageable, not burnt, just maybe extra crispy.
“You okay, Vin?” Anton asks, and not for the first time, Thomas reflects on the fact that he’s probably the reason Anton checks in more now, asks how he is, and how much he hates it sometimes.
“Weekend off, why wouldn’t I be?” Thomas says. “Go get plates, this is still edible, I promise.”
“Despite my best efforts, you mean,” Anton says, finally relaxing.
“Well I was trying to be nice,” Thomas says, and Anton laughs and goes to get plates while Thomas rubs his thumb over the plastic of the pan’s handle, gives himself a moment to exhale.