Heart of Man

I groaned loudly as the knocking grew louder at my door. I tried shifting off the couch, only to be pinned down by the small child above me. Tereza.

I wrapped my arms around her, sitting up slowly as to not wake her. Wrapping her into my arms, I walked to the door, not even bothering to ask, and opened it. Pavel was standing there, grinning like mad, and beamed even further when he saw his daughter.

Was it all a dream?

“Hey, sorry it’s so late!” I only nodded, as he reached for his child. “I called coach, and we don’t have practice until ten, so you can sleep some more.” I nodded at him again, still only half way awake, and very confused. “Anna?”

I popped my head up at him, eyes adjusting to the bright lights of the hallway, compared to the dim lighting in my apartment. All I could manage was a grunt of acknowledgement. “Hmm?”

“You alright there, Banana? You don’t look too hot.” I grinned in my half-dazed state.

“Thanks for the boost of confidence, Kubina. I’m fine, just really confused.” I leaned down to pick up Tereza’s sandals, handing them to him. “I could have swore you already came to get her.”

He only shook his head. “She really wore you out, huh? She loves the zoo.” He nodded to the elevator, before turning and humming softly as he carried his little girl away from my view. I waited until I could hear the elevator door ding shut, before slamming my apartment door.

I stomped into my kitchen, ripping my phone off the charger, and dialing a number I had known by heart. Waiting for it to pick up was horrible, as the NHL Network was blaring in the background. I had a splitting migraine, and I had no idea why. “Anna?”

“When was the last time I talked to you, Richards? And don’t think about fucking with me on this.” I barked into the phone, angry as fuck. That was one real ass dream, and I was, somehow in my crazed, sleep-deprived mind, convinced it actually happened. I ruined the one good thing in my life, over something that I swore I’d never tell him.

“Jesus Christ, Anna, what’s wrong?” I furrowed my brow, unhappy with his answer. I heard a grunt from the other end, followed by a voice, probably Carter. Which meant I might get an answer soon.

“Where the hell is Bobrovsky?” He didn’t answer, but I did hear a door fling open after a second, and the Flyers’ captain roar out the rookie netminder’s name. After a string of extremely angry Russian, he came back to the phone.

“He’s right here. I have no fucking idea what he just said, so good luck with that.” I stepped over a towel that I didn’t remember pulling out, and stalked into the living room, powering off the television. The silence engulfed my apartment, the reminder of home setting immensely in.

“Anna.” He sounded half-asleep, yet awake at the same time. For some reason, his voice alone set me off in anger, that was probably going to be misdirected at him.

“Bobrovsky.” Nothing was heard on his end, allowing me to continue my confused rant. “When was the last time I talked to you?”

His breathing seemed to calm, sending my thoughts into an array of mess. “Before plane left. Why?”

I collapsed onto the couch, feeling my eyes become heavy. “I guess it was just a dream.”

“Anna?” I hummed in response, listening to more shuffling on his end.

“You come to game Tuesday? We need to talk.” I froze, feeling my blood run cold. I had heard that phrase before, and it always, always meant one thing.

“I have a game that night.” He didn’t seem to care, quickly countering my words.

“Ask for scratch. It important.” The fury that had died down quickly, flared back up again, as another realization hit me.

“Why have you refused to not speak in English lately?”

“I have to go. See you Tuesday. Ticket at door.” I heard a click, before removing the cell phone from my ear, and looking at it. He hung up, with no explanation as to what the hell was going on. First Harper and her untempered tongue, McGregor and her rude teammates, and now Sergei..

Is there some Anti-Anna club going on, or something?

David Krejci had been my only salvation since the Bruins game. Nick wouldn’t even reply to my texts, or call me back. Needless to say, the man was my backbone throughout this whole ordeal. However, I still felt bad for him standing up for me, against his own teammates. I pretty much figured something was said in the locker room. Chara had called, but I ignored it. I wanted Tuukka to call. It had been nearly two years since I had spoken to him, and he thinks he can just let his girlfriend off her leash and insult me?

He should know me well enough, to understand I don’t deal with that. Regardless, you don’t act like that on the ice. Maybe it was Russia coming back to me. Maybe I wasn’t cut out for the physicality of the NHL. At least over there, players understood ‘sportsmanship’, and proper conduct. You don’t make an ass out of yourself, while representing the crest on your chest.

It was only Monday, we didn’t have practice, according to a text from Simon, and I had to be at the Forum at 4:30 to play Toronto. I looked at the clock on my phone. 12:38 am. He was probably getting ready to leave for Columbus. Then the thought hit me. My feet hit the floor running, as I practically dove under my bed, and pulled out the small box of pictures that I had kept hidden from my mother and father for so long.

Sliding the top off carefully, the metal walls fragile due to age, I pilfered through the old photos, to one from a game I went to with Evgeni, back in 2007. The asshole didn’t tell me where we were going, and drug me next to the ice for the entire game, in nothing but a t-shirt. It was the Russian Superleague’s second-to-last game of the regular season, CSKA Moscow versus Lada Togliatti. It had been my first trip to Russia, where I had also met Semyon. It was also where I had met the rookie whom was adorable beyond anything, and whom I had found out was going to the NHL starting the following season.

I looked to the next picture, of Semyon and I. It was the last game of the same regular season, which would be the league’s last ever. Lokomotiv Yaroslavl against Metallurg Magnitogorosk, where Evgeni took me to meet both teams, and catch up with some old friends, since he had played in the NHL that season. It was also the day I met Sergei. That picture was buried somewhere else in the box.

Turning the first photo over, I flipped my phone back open, punching in the scrawled numbers, and hit send. Laying back on the carpet, my head began to pound harder as the rings grew louder. “Privet?”

“Nikita? It’s Anna.”

~

I held my head in my hands. Boucher had pulled me off the ice, 7 minutes before the first period ended. I had tried the past two games, against Ottawa and Florida both, but we lost. Miserably. I found out quickly, that loosing to Ottawa was pretty bad. This Don Cherry guy was about ready to have his lights knocked out. ‘Simon Gagne needs to just quit now’ and ‘Boucher needs to put Smith in because Roloson is a disgrace!’.

Not to mention, Mikhail Grabovski was not on my good side right now. I tripped him, totally on accident, and boom! Man fucking erupted out of no where, like a volcano on crack. Alright, so that’s an exaggeration, but he was still nuts. One second fine, and the next, shoving and cussing and ignoring the linesman.

The assist I got to Nate was ugly. It was as if I was playing on the U18 national team again. Sloppy, unprecise, everything, and my coach could see it. Simon had been watching me like a hawk, since I was pretty sure Carcillo or Richards called him about my phone call earlier this morning. Pretty fair grounds to say he told Boucher I wasn’t feeling it tonight.

But unfortunately for me, I wasn’t getting paid to ‘not feel it’. My dad used to tell me to suck it up, and go back out there. And here I was, standing back up to face the Maple Leafs, who were in a one-goal deficit against us. I felt a hand on my shoulder, Simon’s face next to my ear. “Relax, and take everything in stride.”

I nodded. Steven nodded to me, as I took my place between Ryan and Simon on the bench, happy to be back on my regular line. I squeezed water into my mouth, swishing around my mouth guard, and exhaling. I just needed to breathe.

~

I skated towards Simon as fast as I could, a smile on my face, as I tackled him to the ice. I had had two goals, three minutes within each other, and I couldn’t think of anyone else better to thank, than him and Ryan. He returned the hug, as Ryan himself and Brett joined in on the lump. The Maple Leafs’ fans were booing us hysterically, and I half-way excepted to see some pancakes thrown on the ice.

“Where the hell have you been, Anna? We could have used you in Ottawa!” I smacked Simon on the face, as we all got to our feet, skating to the benches. Guy was proud, I think. He smiled and nodded at us. We were now up three to one.

~

“So, Anna, how does it feel to get back on your scoring streak, after being scoreless in both Ottawa and Florida?” I sighed, not even knowing I was on the media list. I looked up to the iPhone recording my words.

“I feel pretty good. I’m glad the deficit didn’t last long.”

“Do you know why you were off during those games? Ever since the Boston game, it seems your game has been a little off.” I turned to the woman next to me, a look of disbelief plastered on my face, I was sure. I had never been asked that question. Maybe subtly, yes, but never bluntly like that.

“Uh, yeah. I was obviously having trouble focusing.” Might as well be honest, right? “I’ve been having some family problems back home, so it’s been extremely troubling, and obviously a factor in my poor performance on the ice.

“Is there a chance you will take a few days off to go and take care of such matters?” I had to bite back a groan, as my migraine began to seep back into my head.

“I’ve talked to Guy, and he was alright with my missing the Senators’ and Islanders’ game. I’m planning on using the time to communicate with my family, and be there if the worst comes to pass. Otherwise, I won’t be going to Ottawa, and will be staying here re-cooperating.”

“Re-cooperating from what?”

“Old injuries have started to hurt painfully again. I feel confident that play-offs aren’t a problem for us to clinch a spot, and we both agreed, along with our medical staff, that rest now on it, is better than falling out at a critical period.”

~

I slid into my bed happily, thankful that I didn’t have to see anyone until Thursday. It was Tuesday, 4:19 am, and I was hyped up on the best painkillers in the world: Marshmallows.

My leg, where the scar line could faintly be seen, had been throbbing all night, unknowing to me. Simon, while driving me home, asked if I was alright. Apparently I had been rubbing the area constantly, applying pressure.

He should learn the meaning of ‘illegal u-turns’. We had made it to Wal-Mart with record-timing, and ended up spending the past two hours on the marshmallow and cake isle. Needless to say, I was really going to regret eating all those marshmallows with him. But my leg had stopped hurting eventually, when we discovered the body’s natural cure for all problems: 8 bags of mini-marshmallows, 2 bags of jumbo marshmallows, and several marshmallow wars throughout the store.

A familiar song reached my ears, a song by an Icelandic band, forcing me to turn and grab my phone off the pillow next to me. “Hello?”

“Hey there, gorgeous. What are you going right now?” Really? Oh, irony was kicking my ass right now.

“Sleeping.” Why aren’t you doing the same, hmm?

“Really?” No.

“No, I’m getting myself off on thoughts of you. What do you need at this hour?” I grumbled, my happy-Anna-mode starting to wear off.

“Well, I was wondering if you wanted to go out when you fly up here.” Great, exactly what I needed. More alcohol-induced nights I couldn’t remember. Though recently, the alcohol wasn’t even necessary to screw with my head.

I sighed, giving in. “Why not?”

“Great! Call me when your plane lands?” His voice was rather comforting, as my mind began to slip further into a sleep-state.

“Will do.” Better remember. Maybe if I sleep for the next two days, I’ll be prepared for the nighttime adventures.

“Good night, Anna.” His soft words lulling me to a slumber I missed visiting.

Smiling to myself, since you definitely can’t smile through a telephone, I thought about when I first met the man on the other end of the line. “Sweet dreams.”

“I bet.” I laughed softly, hanging up the phone without responding. What was I getting myself into?