Only to Feel This Fully [Completed]

Ch. 1: Open Ice

The cold air from the rink reddened my skin, the unnatural environment clashing with my body's attempts at homeostasis. An ice rink is a preposterous thing when you think about it, essentially a warehouse-sized refrigerator to keep frozen a man-made sheet of ice no more than a few inches thick. All this so that a bunch of teenagers could put blades on their feet and hit around some rubber using pieces of wood for a few hours on a school night, sometimes between iron bars. That's all it ever really was.

This is what I thought about while Coach DaSilva went through his lists of the team's mistakes last period during the intermission, which is really what I should be paying attention to right now. Coaches, teachers, my parents, Nora from the bookshop, even my friends; they all tell me I have a short attention span. I've often caught myself staring blankly out a window during class, my gaze transfixed on some meaningless object in the middle distance. I typically blame this on the monotony of the school day, but that excuse can only go so far.

In rare moments of honesty with myself, I acknowledge that my spaciness is much more accurate than the idle boredom of my peers. I feel like I've been on auto-pilot for these past few years, drifting through moments that are supposed to be milestones, but register to me as inconsequential. I spend all my time escaping the current reality in hopes that a better one will come along but do nothing to actualize that.

Perhaps, this causes smaller moments to feel of outsized importance, like when a cute boy meets my eyes for even the briefest few seconds. The action had resumed on the ice while I've been occupied by this reverie, but while I was waiting for the shift change, #7 on the opposing team, probably the most beautiful boy I'd ever seen, did just that. A dancer on the ice, this boy skated with a grace that had to be natural. I've been on skates since I was five and I still come nowhere near that perfection.

#7 had a name and it was Theodore Broussard. He skated past my team's bench on an odd-man rush and the swift breeze of several teenaged bodies surging past us caused a swift breeze. The icy air was harsh against my skin, causing my eyes to water a bit. Theodore's teammate went offside and the ref's whistle stopped play. Theo skated so fast that he was already halfway into our zone before hearing the whistle and casually switched directions, gliding to the neutral-zone face-off with one flawless motion.

As he positioned himself for the face-off, I caught his eyes on me and I instantly looked away out of embarrassment. The perpetual redness of my face caused by the coldness of the air around us, fortunately, concealed any outward signs of my mortification.

Theo won the face-off and the puck squirted out to the right-winger, who carried it into our zone. Kirk, one of our defensemen, checked the kid from behind just as he was about to shoot. The ref's hand went up, but Kirk was already making his way to the penalty box. The penalty was only a minor so we'd be down a player for the next two minutes. Coach sent the first line, including me, out for the penalty kill.

I'd been a center up until high school, but then, my bigger frame and more physical style of play meant that I was moved to defenseman. Even after years playing the sport, I was still very much a football player on skates when playing hockey. On the field, I was much more agile than the average fullback, but on the ice, I was relatively flat-footed, especially compared to someone like Theo. Scott, our first-line center, won the face-off and we were able to get it out of our zone, but Chris bobbled a pass on the left-wing and the puck slid back slowly into our zone.

The change of direction had caught almost everyone off guard, except Theo, who had immediately cut towards it. While I had been closer to the puck, he was faster and took possession. Knowing he would've had a clear shot on net, I took the opportunity while we were still basically even and knocked him over with my elbow. That move was not the most honest play, but I was able to recollect the puck and ice it to stop play, surprised no penalty had been called. As I was moving towards where I knew the face-off would be, Theo came up behind me and bumped me on the shoulder lightly, saying "nice check." Within the context of the game, the tone could be mistaken as venomous, but when I saw his face through his helmet cage, he was smiling. The comment was playful teasing, not an inciting taunt, as I had initially worried.