Page 92 of Making the Save
Later That Night
Wyatt
We sat that night on the couch, our couch, and I could practically feel the tension of all the what ifs.
What if she was pregnant? What if she wasn’t? What if she went back to recording and performing and I went back to playing hockey and we never saw each other again?
None of it was settling in my gut right.
“I don’t think I’m going to like this,” she said as I hit the rent button onPredator,and theopening music set the tone.
“I told the planet it was your favorite movie, you have to at least watch it once,” I told her. “And no fake screaming like girls do.”
“What do you mean?”
“You know how girls get,” I said.
“Oh, this should be good,” she said, clearly getting ready to take the feminine high ground. “How dogirlsget?”
My brain said, proceed with caution. Out of my mouth came:
“Oh, it’s so scary, look at all the guts and blood.” I mimicked in a high pitched voice.
“Wow. You do not dogirlvery well at all.”
I snorted. “You only get to scream if you’re actually scared.”
“I’m a grown woman, by the way, and I don’t fake scream at anything.”
“Good,” I grunted.
I’m pretty sure we weren’t thirty minutes into the movie and already she was screaming.
“It’s not that bad,” I said calmly. “You’re not even looking.”
“He ripped off his head!” she shouted, and buried her face into my shoulder. “How can that not be bad? Why would anyone watch this?”
“Says a lot about a person who claims it’s her favorite movie.”
“Wyatt, turn this off now,” she said sternly.
“Fine.”
A short time later we were watching a Netflix documentary about some scam artist pretending to be a real doctor.
“See,” she said, shaking her head. “I told you he was a fraud. That poor woman thought he was going to marry her and the whole time he had another family.”
“I think you’re missing the point,” I reminded her. “He was performing surgery and he wasn’t a doctor.”
She tilted her head. “Also bad. But as someone who has been lied to by a con man, I’m just saying I can relate.”
“Are we talking about John again?”
“Hmm.”
“Don’t tell me there was someone worse.”
She sighed. “You don’t know about Paris?”