The dream on ice

Chapter I : What's the story morning glory?

I'm waking up in a pleasant shadow. There's a pounding in my head that makes me want to shoot myself. I remember, more or less, everything that happened yesterday, well, save for a few details. Like, for example, where the hell am I, where are my clothes and why the fuck am I in an unfamiliar bed.

I look around the room. Well, you can't exactly call this a tidy room, but it's not that bad. There are some posters on the wall. I perch on my elbows for a better view. On the one closest to me - on the wall on my left – is Laci Nagy, a hockey player of Košice. Well that helped me so much. In the whole city of Košice there is, of course, only one person that has his poster. Stupid jokes for another time. The important thing now is what happened yesterday, with who it has happened and why I am waking right here.

On the wall behind me is Bálizs. The goalie of Budapest. Hanging above him is a scarf MAC Budapest. Okay, now I know exactly where I am. Well... I hope I'm where I think I am, because if not, I'm in some deep shit.

I look for my phone. It has to be here somewhere around. Oh, on the ground next to the bed. I reach for it. I fumble for a bit, but then find it so I check the time. 11:48 AM. Amazing. I slept through half a day, terrific. I'm surprised that my parents haven't called me yet, but then, not so much. Dad surely has an important marketing meeting and mom... well, she most likely already gave up on me. There are few notifications on the screen.

You have four (4) missed calls from: Дмитрий (Dimitrij)

You have two (2) unread messages from Дмитрий

Oops, I open the messages.

Дмитрий: Where are you?

Дмитрий: Text me when you're sober.

At least he cares. I don't know why I feel like he knows where I am and knows I'm fine otherwise he'd be already calling the police, ambulance, morticians and who knows who else. I'll text him later. First of all, it would be quite nice to find out what the hell has happened. I look around but I don't see my clothes anywhere. Great.

Okay. Once more and slowly this time. Think, Nastya, think. You are in a stranger's home, in a stranger's bed, after a night out drinking and you're naked. This is going to be an interesting weekend, or well, what's left of it, anyway. It's Sunday. Isn't it? I check my phone quickly. Looking at the big letters 'Sunday' next to a date I breathe out relieved. I'm not so out of it. It could be worse. It had been worse.

If I'm correct in my deduction, despite my momentary state, there are not that many people who put a poster of Bálizs on their wall, so I should be in my friend's house, at Márton Nagy. He's Dimitrij's teammate and friend.

We met when he came from Budapest to join the team three years ago. He's a great goalie, exactly what we needed. He's our 'Hungarian talisman' and even though we all know he's not Hungarian, we are quite fond of the jokes about his origin. Firstly, the guys made fun of him that in Hungary, they don't even know what hockey is. Which is, by the way, not exactly true. And with his saves percentage he changed their opinion rather quickly. Moreover, he was born in Košice. He spent a few years living in Budapest but his parents decided to return. And it was a good decision.

I check the time again. 12:02 PM. Was I contemplating that long? Geez. I always forget the time in my thoughts, memories, and different ponderings. And when I'm drinking... but that's for another time.

Someone knocks and slowly opens the door. A well-known face peers at me. "Márton!" I call out. "You have no idea how glad I am to see you," I say and he grins at me.