2nd Intermissions

I began to rise from my seat and Antti put his hand over mine saying, "Think about what you're going to do first."
In the rage I was feeling, I didn't comprehend his words, but Tomas helped me sit down again before Adam saw me. "You have the upper hand here, think about it."
"This isn't hockey," I hissed then the full effect hit me, "Oh god." My head went down to hit the table again, but Niemi caught it before it hit with a loud clunk.
"I don't understand. He met my freaking parents." I mumbled, glancing over there again when we heard a high-pitched giggle.
"What do I do, what do I do?"
"That's up to you. Right now, it's simple- because clearly we aren't gonna stay here." Tomas offered. "Go up and confront him, walk past and leave right out the front door, or sneak out the back door."

I weighed the options that were so calmly given by him. My mind wandered to the playboy party. That would make sense, why he was avoiding me and his strange behavior. I could sneak out and talk to him privately, after the road trip that would go from tomorrow until Saturday night. I could go up to him and call him out, which lacked some dignity, I thought- because people could see and that could get my fired. It was thin ice I was skating onto and resurfaced from my thoughts with an answer. I looked at Antti and Tomas, telling them, "I'm going to just walk past him and let him know that I saw it, and we need to talk. If I explode at him in the middle of the bar, people might talk and I could get fired." The two men nodded, understanding my logic.
"Plus, my pride is to hurt to sneak out without any repercussions. I want him to worry."
"Remind me not to ever get on your bad side, okay, Doc?" Antti tried his hand at humor. I took off the serious look that seemed like it was cemented on my face for a brief second while I smiled at his joke.
"Hey, you guys- don't follow me immediately, I don't want him being a bitch to you two." I added, while standing up, and fixing myself.
"Adios." I told them, wiggling my fingers in a wave.

As I left the table and Antti's bright eyes, the overwhelming confidence I had seemed to wade a little. Each step I took closer to the man who I thought loved me and the woman sitting in his lap, my confidence wavered. Finally, I passed his table, eyes staring straight at the door, I stepped with more of a strut than just a walk. I heard him stop in the middle of his sentence and my breath hitched when I heard her ask, "Who's that, baby?"
I pushed the door open and was engulfed in the cold dark night before I could hear his reply. Turning the corner into the parking lot, I leaned against the back of my car, sliding down onto the step near the trunk. Before I could listen for footsteps, I put my head in my hands and finally broke down. Through my quiet sobs in the empty parking lot, I heard someone approaching. I knew it couldn't have been Adam, there was no way, and when they sat down next to me and pulled me into their chest to cry, I knew it wasn't. They didn't smell the same, and I realized it was Antti. He held me until I was finished crying. I glanced up at him before turning quickly around.
"Why did you turn?" He tried to pull me back. I wiped off my face, hoping to get all of the remaining mascara that I knew had to be running. "Hold on, I just know I look like shit right now."
I heard him chuckle and turn me back around. Before he could see how badly my face must have looked, I put my head on his shoulder, and he wrapped his arm around me.
"You wouldn't do that to your girlfriend back home in Finland, right?"
"If I had one back home in Finland, or anywhere, I most definately would not." He assured me while we stared out at the streetlight lit parking lot until we heard more footsteps and I went back to trying to wipe my face off. Drying the last of my tears, I told myself that I wouldn't let Adam see me cry.
Instead of Adam rounding the corner, it was Tomas and he approached us without rush.
"Where were you?" I asked, still allowing Niemi to drape his arm over my shoulder.
"Making small talk with Bur so he didn't know we were there with you." He sighed, leaning against the back end of his car.
"I should really be going home. Thank you guys though, for the...for everything." I stood, walking away from them and towards the driver's side door. Antti stood and followed me, the car blocking Kopecky's view. Before I could open the door, he placed his hand against the window, making me look over at him.
"Don't be sad, okay?" He said, dropping his hand from the door and rubbed my upper arm.
I nodded, knowing that I would most likely cry on the way home. He must have seen that on my face, because he took his hand and tilted my chin up, and Antti placed a gentle kiss on my lips.

My eyes widened and he smiled a crooked smile before walking around to Tomas' car.
Once I was in my car and on the road, I spoke to myself.
"Great, that's just what I need. I've got a cheating boyfriend who I can't really talk to until after a road trip, and then, HEY, I've got a Finnish back up goalie who decides to kiss me and make me SO CONFUSED INSIDE." I made an aggravated noise and flicked on my turn signal more violently than I needed to.
"Who, by the way, Samantha, is extremely adorable and has beautiful eyes. But wasn't Adam extremely adorable too? I can't believe I'm comparing the two. I can't believe I'm talking to myself. OH MY GOD, what's going to happen when Adam needs to be examined?" My hysterics turned quickly into tears and before I knew it, I was sitting outside of Angelina's house. I decided to call her before running up the stairs. She might not even be home.
The phone rang twice and she answered it with a chuckle.
"Hey, having fun with the techno twins?" I heard a male laugh in the background and I knew I shouldn't have called. Brouwer was there and I didn't really need another team mate of Adam's to look on me with pity.
"Oh, uh, nevermind." I went to hang up, but she shouted something.
"What?"
"Why are you crying? Where are you? Come over, now." I knew she would hear the tears in my voice, she was always good at picking up on that stuff.
I mumbled, "In front of your house. It's fine though, Troy is over, I can come by before I leave for the airport tomorrow."
"No, I'm coming downstairs right now."
Sure enough, the phone clicked off and I saw a lamp turn on, and then someone come outside. I sighed and turned off the engine, getting out and meeting her on the sidewalk. Instantly, she pulled me in for a hug and I felt like crap.
"I'm going to leave- you and Troy have fun." My voice came out muffled, she had pushed my face into her chest.
"No. You're staying here. We were just playing Life."
I pushed her away and said, "What?"
"You heard me. We can start over and add you in."
Sure enough, when I came upstairs with her, Troy was making popcorn and set up on the kitchen table was the board game Life. Within a couple of minutes, the two of them quickly helped me forget my worries until my cell phone started to ring. I thought the worst until I saw it was Troy Parchman calling me.
"Hey, what's up?" I asked him as I put the phone to my ear.
"The plane leaves in an hour and a half, McDonough wants us to be there tonight."
"What?!" I said, standing up. John McDonough, the president, for some strange reason, wanted us to board the plane at (I checked my watch) eleven thirty.
"I don't know why, just get here quick."

I raced home, throwing business clothes in my bag, hoping that the hotel would have an iron and ironing board at my disposal. I got to the airport, still wearing dark jeans, chucks, and a cardigan over a camisole. Grumbling, I shoved my carry on above my seat and sat down next to Troy.
"Why the hell are we here and not the players?" I asked him. He pulled his headphones off and popped his gum.
"Well, McDonough said that we were going to skate at Fenway."
My mouth dropped. The winter classic that was held at the Boston Red Sox' home field still was home to the rink? I voiced my question to him and he answered, "It would seem so."
A smile broke out on my face. I managed to skate on Wrigley Field's rink last winter classic, now I would be able to skate at Fenway Park? A giggle escaped my lips and Troy started to laugh with me.
"This is going to be awesome! How did McDonough manage?" I recalled him being the President of the Chicago Cubs.
"He pulled some MLB strings, who cares?" He smiled.

I actually fell asleep before the plane landed in Boston, and we were on the ice in a matter of an hour. I was nervous when I stepped onto it, I hadn't been skating in about a year. Most everyone from the front office was skating around, even Pat Foley.
Troy and I goofed around, trying to shove each other down. He pushed me a little and my rented skate hit a chunk of ice and I fell.
"Oh jesus! I'm sorry, are you okay?" He looked worried and tried to help me up. I got up on my own and said, "Ooh, you're going to regret that."
He realized I was okay and it was right back to joking around. "Hey!" Someone shouted and we turned around. They dropped a pile of sticks in the center of the rink and people skated over, picking them up.
I smiled over at Troy and raced him to the pile, grabbing a Reebok stick and he picked a Bauer wooden one.
"Alright people, remember which stick you got! We have enough people for a pick-up game." Foley said, indicating to the spot where the pile was. "Drop them there."
We all did what we were instructed and McDonough skated over, picking two sticks up.
Troy saw that one was his stick and he skated forward, along with John Torchetti.
"Captains! Start picking up the sticks. One goalie each."
I glared at Troy, hoping he didn't get my stick, so I could play against him. Sure enough, Torch picked up my stick third and I glanced at my team. Paul Vincent- the skating coach, Mike Gapski- head athletic trainer, and I as the forwards, Torch and Jim Heintzelman on defense, and Jeff Thomas in the net. I smiled, confident at our skills compared to Troy's team.
Coach Q dropped the puck saying, "Play up to three!" and Troy won the face off. I skated to keep up with the wingers and Paul Vincent stole the puck. He went to pass it to me, but it was stolen before I could grab it. They scored on Jeff and we skated back to the center. Mike Gapski won the face off this time and passed it to me. I skated down the ice, grinning like a maniac as I shot it into the glove of Stephane Waite.
"Why did they get the goaltending coach?" I laughed as he tossed it to Q.
We lost the face off, but Torch regained the puck and passed it to Paul Vincent, who tried to pass it to me. I grabbed it and quickly twisted, shoving it into the goal. "Yeah!" I said, pumping my fist.
"Beaten by a girl!" Torch taunted Stephane Waite. Another face off, and Jim scored for us. All we needed was one more goal and we won. Troy got the puck and raced down towards Jeff. I skated up to him and slid my stick blade under his and stole the puck. I passed it to Torch as I hit Troy into the boards. Before I skated away I told him, "Pay back, Parchman!"
Torch scored our last goal and we shared a few jokes before retiring to our hotel rooms near one in the morning.
I tried to analyze all the events that I had experienced that day, but as soon as I curled up in bed, I fell asleep.

When I woke up on game day, I felt like I was hit by a train. My legs were not used to skating like that, and my shoulder hurt from where I shoved Troy. My backside hurt from where I fell, and my right arm was sore from the shoving that resulted in my goal.
I stumbled to practice, opting for flats instead of heels, thinking my calves couldn't handle it. Whenever I stood for too long, I had cramps in them.
I slid off my shoe and massaged the cramp out of my calf, waiting for the boys to come back from the pre-game skate.
Troy checked in and asked me how I was holding up. I grumbled about my pains and he chuckled.
"Don't tell me you're not sore at all." I said, putting my flat back on.
"I'm only sore from where a doctor checked me into the boards." He laughed as Kris Versteeg came in, heading for the cooler.
"Who checked you into the boards?" He questioned, opening the nasty green drink and leaning against the counter.
"Our docile doctor here. A hit and a goal last night." Troy said before leaving the room.
"Oh really?" Versteeg raised an eyebrow. I told him quickly about the pick-up game the front office had last night out on Fenway's ice. Obviously he had told everyone else about the front office exploits, because before the game started, all of the players who visited the small sports medicine room the Bruins offered their opponents had a comment to share about my goal or my check.
"Seriously, shut up." I told Fraser, after the third time I heard about how they 'would have never expected it! Blah blah blah'.
Troy came in after the game started and invited me to stand in the tunnel with him. I jumped at the chance to watch the game that close. We walked through the tunnel, our shoes making strange noises on the ridged rubber carpet that helped the players walk in their skates. We stood behind the players bench and the coaches.
Within twenty or some seconds into the first, Toews had managed to injure Marc Savard and he had to have two players carry him off the ice. Later in the first period, Blake Wheeler for the Boston Bruins scored on Niemi and I sighed, managing to restrain myself. "He's going to let another one through." I commented to Troy.
He looked over at me briefly with a questioning look and I told him, "Most of the games he's started, he's never had just one goal go through. He's sluggish after they score for the first time." Troy nodded, brushing off my opinion until Miroslav Satan scored on Niemi. We were now down by two and Troy said, "You know more than you let people see."
"Well, duh. Just because my job doesn't require being a fan doesn't mean I'm not. I've loved the Blackhawks since I was a little girl, and now I'm just better at keeping track of things."

Then BAM BAM, Keith scored, then Tomas. I stopped myself from jumping up and down and just managed to crack a huge smile. The second period came fast and Antti was holding up his nickname of the 'Finnish fortress' and then Andrew Ladd scored with a wrist shot. Soon after that, Keith scored again, making it 8 goals this season for him.
The Bruins took out Tim Thomas and replaced him with their Finnish rookie goalie.
"This should be interesting." Troy said as the third period began.
I was glad I had no customers to my examination table so far this night and a goal from Patrick Kane late in the 3rd jarred me out of my thoughts.
The game ended and I made my way back into my office as the players filed out to congratulate Antti. I did notice Kopecky's congratulation was different from the others. Everyone else shook his helmet or hit his face mask once, but Tomas slapped it three times from either side and patted the top of it.
Smiling, I sat back in my chair, my legs still shaky from the game last night and our win tonight. I told all of the players who came in that night, "Good game, good game." until Antti came in, smiling and heading towards the cooler.
I stood in front of it and his smile grew wider. "Good game, kiddo." I said and he put his hands on the cooler and on either side of my hips. As he was looking down at me, the air seemed to crackle. My heart raced and I grinned, tousling his hair and moving out of the situation we had just found ourselves in.
Antti's crooked smirk wavered and asked me as he opened the water bottle how I was holding up. I gave him a look and shrugged saying, "I'm still here, yeah?"
He nodded and told me to call him tonight before he left the room. I sat, deciding that I had no good reason not to call him.

We finally made it back to the hotel. We would hop on a plane to Minnesota the next morning to play them before heading home that night to play the Ducks again.
I laid in bed, holding my cell phone above my head, my finger hovering over the call button. I pressed it and let out a breath of air, holding the phone to my ear. We ended up just talking, late into the night. He would distract me from Adam by talking about his hometown in Finland, and he spoke about the game and what was going through his head. He was successful in distracting me with his accent and broken sentences, until I heard a thump and asked, "What was that?"
"Tomas threw a pillow at me. Says I need to sleep. Cris is playing tomorrow though!" He whispered the last to Kopecky, talking about Cristobal Huet, who would most likely get the nod tomorrow. I heard Tomas say something back- then, "I need to go. He's going to beat on me. See you tomorrow." He whispered, and we hung up with each other. For the second night in a row, I fell instantly into slumber.