CHECK, PLEASE! Short Stories

bittersweet

Title: Bittersweet

Summary:

Five years after Jack loses his dream of playing hockey, he becomes a professional sports photographer. When he meets his client, Eric, a figure skater, old memories return and mess with Jacks emotions.

Warnings: Mention of overdose and light mentions of homophobia

Published: 3/5/2020

Words: 1581

The ice was bittersweet for Jack.

Though it had been years since he played, the affect on his conscious would last forever.

The sun gleaming through the skylight reminded him of old friends. The warmth in his back and his face, the warmth in his heart, the heaviness of another body piled on top of him in celebration. The laughter echoed in an empty stadium during early morning practices. The hopefulness of a young Jack Zimmermann staring at the poster of his father hung from the ceiling.

A cold, sharp pain of ice on bare skin. The dull throbbing of injuries never fully healed. The broken dream of a kid once filled with the idea that he was unstoppable. The crashing and burning. The overdose. The sounds of his mother's tears when she thought he was asleep. The quiet whispers of the doctors outside his hospital room at night.

The ice was bittersweet. Jack hated going back.

So, when he stood outside the stadium with a backpack full of photography equipment and an assistant desperately trying to make small talk, he wasn't sure what he should be feeling.

After the initial shock that Jack could no longer play hockey, for his own health and mental wellbeing, he decided he would chase his passion; photography.

Slowly he became one of the most well-known sports photographers in the country. He focused on everything from kids' gymnastics portraits to action shots of pro football teams. His next project was for an upcoming figure skater; Eric R. Bittle.

Jack rarely knew anything about his clients, and he rarely did any research. He often found that what was on the internet didn't truly reflect who they were. That would have to be something that shone through when they first met.

When he heard the name "Eric R. Bittle" all he could think of was a kid who kept breaking records. He couldn't put a face to the name, just a few extravagant outfits.

Jack was welcomed in by Bittle's manager, a young professional woman dressed in athleisure, wearing a headset.

"Mr. Zimmermann, pleasure to meet you." She grinned, reaching out a hand. "I'm Georgia."

He met her grin with a half-assed smile. "Call me Jack."

She nodded and turned to Jack's assistant, quickly making conversation with him instead. Jack didn't mind, it was something to keep his min focused (and keep either of them from trying to learn every detail about his life).

He walked through the stadium without much thought, his mind recalling every turn and tunnel to the ice. He stopped just before the ice, turning to see a figure sitting on the bench, lacing his skates.

The kid was clearly distracted by his music and his blond hair fell over his face, blocking his vision. Jack cleared his throat, and Bittle looked up quickly, pulling his earbud out. His brown eyes widened like a deer in headlights.

"I'm sorry, have you been standing there long?"

The southern accent hit Jack like a puck to the mouth.