Blue Paint & Red Lights

"So, what happened?"

Last night I had told my mother everything she wanted to hear and this morning around eight, I had a missed call from Angelina.
Her words were almost identical to my mother's, except Gina was liberal with her expletives. Antti had called Niklas that night after I had left and Niklas brought it upon himself to tell Angelina.
I sighed into the phone and explained it to her slowly, attempting to capture the complete oddity that happened less than 24 hours ago. After telling Angelina that no, I do not want her to be my date to the high school reunion we said our goodbyes and I exited my room and walked down the stairs into the open floor plan of my parent's kitchen and breakfast room.
My father was sitting at the island that was in the center of the kitchen drinking coffee and toying with two pieces of paper that were in his hand.
I made my way over to him and asked, "Where's my coffee?"
"It's bad for you. Have some water." My dad replied and I sat down next to him.
"Puh." I mumbled and pointed at the two pieces of paper he was spinning around with his finger. "What are those?"
My dad stared pointedly at my left hand. "I'm glad you're still wearing your wedding ring."
My eyes narrowed and I pulled my hand back and looked at the wedding band in question. "Why wouldn't I be wearing it?"
"Guys mess up. That's what we do, kid. Give him some time- he'll be crawling back. We mess up, but that's only minor. The only reason he wants time to think is because he's fucking worried about what he did. He doesn't want to hurt you- he's a good kid." The corner of my dad's lip tugged up in a half-smile that twitched his blond mustache that hadn't begun to gray.
"I know." I said, casting my eyes downward towards the papers again. I should have known my mom wouldn't keep it much of a secret from him. I reached out and tried to grab the paper from him.
"What is it?" I asked, curiosity spiking when he pulled them back.
"We're going to a game tonight. In Rockford, so calm the fuck down." I couldn't help but smile at his curses- it was just another virtue of my father.

Later that night, I had retrieved my old home Icehogs jersey out of his closet and found my cowbell that had been stored away in the basement.
"I can't believe you still wear this." I tugged at my white jersey with no number on the back of it.
"Why wouldn't I? I told you to get an extra large so I could wear it after you left." My dad shoved the key into the ignition and started the car so we could be on our way to the Metrocentre in Rockford.
"And why would you try to throw away my cowbell? Mom told me she had to save it." I asked him, crossing my arms. "And why are we leaving so damn early?"
"One- watch your mouth before I smack you, you sound like a truck driver. Two- stop asking so many fucking questions. It has a fucking skate and meet thing before the game, will you CALM yourself?" His mustache wiggled and he turned on the radio to the heavy metal station and drowned out my thoughts.
"Did you bring skates?" I quickly asked him.
"I grabbed your old skates and put them in the back."
I couldn't help it if I was kind of excited and happy. I would be spending some quality time with my dad and some well-earned time watching a hockey game. When I was a teenager, before it was the Blackhawks, it was the Icehogs. I was kind of nervous about going to a game after so long, I didn't know a lot of the players and didn't keep track of their games.

My fears were completely unfounded when I stepped onto the ice. My dad opted out to go and get some food, claiming that he was too old to skate. The ice skates I wore were a half-size too small and squeezed my feet uncomfortably, but I managed to skate regularly.
"Doc!" I heard a shout from the other side of the rink. I shook my head in anticipation of who would skate up to me.
Jack Skille was there in two seconds, grinning down at me.
"Hey Jack." I smiled up at him, patting his shoulder. He continued to grin like an idiot and I asked him, "Don't you have things to sign and people to meet?"
"Yeah- do you want me to sign you're jersey, doc?" Jack lifted his right hand that held the new black sharpie.
"Uh..Sure. Don't write anything bad on it." I turned for him slowly on the skates and presented my back.
"I'm surprised that I don't have to sign on a 31." He hesitated. I turned again and narrowed my eyes playfully.
"This jersey is so old, so just calm down." I laughed at him. "Just sign the front, yeah?"
Jack shrugged and yanked the cap off of the marker. I felt the tip press into my collarbone and the quick scrawling of his hand. After he pulled away I tried to look down on it and read it. "What does it say?"
Jack pointed with his finger as he read the words. "Doc. Needs. A. Jack. Skille. Jersey. Then I signed it."
"Oh you..More like Jack ass." I huffed.
"That's incredibly original. Stop being so creative, will you?"

"Bite me, Jack." I smiled at him and skated backwards like Antti had taught me that one late night on the rink. I turned quickly and went to skate away to another player. It seemed like the player had come to me because I slammed into a solid, immovable object.
"Whoa! Is this the doc all you guys talk about?" The player was ridiculously tall and spoke with an Canadien accent.
"Uh, what?" I said the same time Jack answered him, "Yes, it is!"
"And who are you?" I strained my neck to get a good look at his face that was partially hidden by two curtains of black hair. He had strange facial hair that was almost a mustache-less version of a fu-man-chu, and it suited him nicely. My face was a deep red, I could feel it. It wasn't everyday that I was between two exceptionally good-looking men. I might be married, but I'm still allowed to feel a little bit bashful, yeah?
"I'm Simon." The way he said his name, it was pronounced 'see-moan' and utterly French. "Simon Danis-Pepin." He finished.
"Peppy. His name is Peppy." Jack insisted.
"Alright, you two. Stop with the bromancing going on here. It's getting uncomfortable for me." I attempted to skate away.
"Are you going to be in town for long?" Jack asked. The two followed me like little, annoying animals. "No. I'm staying east of here." I answered them both.
"What for?" Simon asked, his Quebec accent crisp. I still skated in the general direction of the exit.
"A high school reunion! Can you two stop following me?" I turned on my blades and faced them.
"Maybe. Drinks afterwards if I see you home?" Jack asked, elbowing Simon in the ribs.
I sighed and crossed my arms.
"One, I came with my dad, so no." Their faces fell and I continued after raising my left hand. "Two, I'm married. Three, I'm way too old for you two kids." I laughed and stepped off the ice onto the mat they had set out for the fans to come in and out in the zamboni entrance.

"Who are they?" My dad was there, holding out a soda for me.
"I'll get a goal for you tonight, doc!" Simon shouted after me and I turned to reply quickly, "I'm not your doctor!" before answering my father.
"Players, clearly. And very annoying." I smiled playfully and we made our way over to the benches set up so I could unlace my skates and put them in the bag my dad carried.

The game began soon and we were in our one hundred level, twenty dollar glass seats.
"I love the AHL." I sighed, stroking the glass we faced.
"That's nasty and fucking disease ridden. Make sure you wash your hands." I laughed at my dad's phobia of germs.
A very loud buzzer sounded the beginning of the first period and I slowly reached for my cowbell that was tucked into my back pocket.
"Don't even fucking think about it."
I sighed and looked to my right at my father who looked disapprovingly at the cowbell I slid out of the denim.
"Dad, come on. It's an Icehogs game. Hear all those cowbells?" I tried to reason.
"Only for fights or goals." I sighed and looked over at the ice where the opening faceoff had just occurred.

Of course, when I finally arrived at home that night, I had quite a couple text messages from both Jack and Simon. The defense-man Pepin had actually scored a goal and felt the need to enlist Skille to assist him in annoying me the whole ride home.
When I had crawled into bed around eleven at night, I was frightened out of falling asleep by my phone ringing. I answered quickly, hoping to hear Antti's voice.
"Sam?"
"Hello?" I asked, rubbing my face with one hand and laying back down on the bed, disappointed that it was not Antti on the other line. Instead, it was his closest friend, Niklas Hjalmarsson. "Hey Nik. What's up?"
"You still love Nemo, right?"
I couldn't help but smile at the team's nickname for Antti. "Of course I do, why?"
"Thanks, bye!" He quickly hung up and I closed my eyes, placing my phone on the nightstand.
"What the hell?" I said quietly to myself in the pitch darkness of my old room.

I decided to ignore the random phone call all together and get some peaceful sleep.