In which a fateful call, to right the wrong that changed his life for the worse, ends in an unexpected encounter.
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Dialing Sober
Bah was the first to practice. It was rare for any player to arrive earlier than Robbie (after all, his routine took time), but Bah found sweet solace in the silence of empty locker room 5.
The talk of Valentine's Day hadn't bothered him up until that point. Most of the boys were missing their Valentine's - mourning being away from them on the special day for love. They talked about what they could have done, who would use the phone when, and tried to keep the atmosphere relatively light. None of them wanted to admit the pressure they were feeling.
It wasn't until the day arrived that the incessant ringing and dialing of the phone had begun to grate on Bah. He had to get away from the noise. It scratched across his brain, his eardrums bleeding from the sound. Worst of all was the way his heart would pound hopefully with each ring.
He tried to remind himself that she wouldn't be calling him. It wouldn't be her voice on the other end of the line. No matter how much he prayed. No matter how he hoped or pleaded in his mind. He knew she couldn't be his valentine anymore. But that didn't stop his heart from skipping a beat every time the phone rang.
It hurt every time. The pain was so evident in his eyes that no one asked when he suddenly grabbed his keys and left.
But the silence of the otherwise abandoned locker room was only peaceful for so long. It was a blissful reprieve until he realized he was on autopilot - that he wasn't thinking. As soon as he realized he hadn't been thinking, he began to mull it over. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get his brain to quit.
It ran a few miles a minute - chugging along with the speed of a freight train.
His breath quickened with each turn of the wheels. He felt liked he'd been tied to the tracks by his own thoughts. The steady thunk of metal against metal pounded in his head - it made it difficult for him to sort through the onslaught of thoughts. He tried to focus, tried to grab his sticks, tried to will himself back to that state of autonomy.
He whispered softly to himself as he tried to stand his sticks up in the neat row Robbie could always muster.
It's fine.
Everything is fine.
But the violent shaking of his hands disturbed the delicate equilibrium he had found. He jumped at the sound of them clattering to the floor. One caught the precarious edge of his bag and sent the contents tumbling across the ground.
