Dump & Chase

I sat on the edge of my seat, wrapped in an oversized hockey jersey and watching the game intently with the rest of the crowd. The game was tied and it had boiled down to sudden death overtime. There were just forty seconds left on the clock before a shoot out would happen, but I wanted them to finish it then and there. They could do it. The crowd was restless, but silent with anticipation. Thirty seconds. They could do it. Twenty seconds. They were setting up to shoot in the opponent’s territory. Fifteen seconds. Damn! The puck got cleared back to our side. The goalie sent it back down. Ten seconds. Kris received it at the half line. I stood up. Seven seconds. He drew his stick back, lining up to to take a long shot. Everything was moving in slow motion. I held my breath. Four seconds. He smashed the puck with all of his might and when it left the end of his stick, he, his team, and the crowd watched with desperation, hoping it would find the back of the net. The opposing team scrambled, hoping to stop the puck before the red lamp would light up and signal the end of the game, and, more importantly, decide the winner. But they couldn’t stop that slap shot; no one could. Kris sent the puck home. Scored the game winning goal. The team fled from the bench and crowded him. The crowd went just as wild. And I just stood there, beaming at him, even if he couldn’t see me among the rest of the crowd that was decorated in black and yellow, he had once again succeeded to amaze me.

“Arielle, are you okay?” a voice interrupted my reverie. I snapped out of my little daydream and looked at Laney, her head tilted to the side, a concerned look on her face.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” I said, though it was a lie; every time I thought about him, I little pang of sadness struck me. I know I shouldn’t have been so pressed on the issue, our “relationship” didn’t even last more than two months. But I thought we had something that was actually worthwhile. That’s what I get for giving in a rich and famous hockey player, I guess.

“No, you’re not.” Laney retorted. She saw right through me. Though, it wasn’t hard to tell that I was pretty down in the dumps. I wasn’t talking much, which was was huge indicator that something was wrong because it was in my nature to always be speaking.

I casually glanced around the food court, which wasn’t too busy, despite the time being noon. Malls weren’t usually crowded during week days, though, so it wasn’t that surprising. Laney had suggested some “retail therapy” for me once I finally told her that Kris and I had broken up. I didn’t want to tell her, but when she called me one day to chat, she asked how Kris was and I tried to nonchalantly blow off the question with something she would expect like “oh, I don’t know. He’s away right now, busy with hockey, so I haven’t had a chance to talk to him” but Laney had a weird sixth sense that told her when there was something amiss in a relationship. So I told her everything and and now we’re spending excessive amounts of money on things we don’t really need to help “get my mind off of him”. But it wasn’t working. Buying clothes and shoes wasn’t going to make me happy, not now, not ever.

“Are you just ready to go?” Laney asked, sounding slightly disappointed that her plan for a “girl’s day” didn’t really work out as she had planned.

I looked at the girl with dyed blonde hair and really tanned skin. We were so unlike each other and probably would never have been friends if we weren’t roommates in college. I could tell she was hurt and that she still wanted to shop around. I smiled weakly at her.

“I don’t really want to spend any more money, but I’ll tag along with you and give you second opinions if you’d like.”

“Yay!” she exclaimed, which made my smile broaden slightly. I was glad I could make someone happy.

We stood up and disposed of our trash and leftovers from lunch. Laney began talking about random fashion trends and I simply pretended to be interested as we walked and peered into the store’s windows. Every now and again, Laney would see something in a window that she really liked, so we went inside and she ended up making insanely high purchases. I was always secretly jealous of her because she could just impulsively drop money on things she truly didn’t need. I guess that came with being the daughter of a business tycoon. I, on the other hand, had only the money I made at my boring desk job, which I had called in sick to today because of Laney and I’s shopping excursion. Though, right then and there, being at work sounded a bit better.

I managed to get through the rest of the day without visibly disappointing Laney any more. It was about five o’clock when I got back to my apartment.I casted my shopping bags and purse aside and trudged into my room. I looked to my bed, and there it was, waiting for me; that huge black hoodie with the skating penguin on the front. I’ll never know why he didn’t want it back with the other things he came back for a few days ago. But I did know that I shouldn’t have been holding on to it still. But, despite my conscience’s protests, I slid it over my head. I pressed the excess fabric to my face and inhaled. The scent was familiar and comforting; it was his, after all. But it was fading away, much like he was from me.

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When I woke up and glanced at the clock on my nightstand, it read 6:44. The number was oddly familiar... I rose and yawned. I felt a little better and smiled faintly. I stretched as I stood up and removed the hoodie; I felt a little too warm to wear it around. Yawning once more. I walked to where I left my bags and purse. I heard my phone emit a a tri-tone from my purse, signaling that I had a new text message. I rummaged through my purse and found my phone. I unlocked it and read the text message:

“Are you going to watch the game tonight?”

I raised an eyebrow. Then I looked and saw who it was from.

Kris.
Kristopher.
Kristopher Letang.
My ex.

“Why?” I asked out loud.

I checked the name again, just to make sure I wasn’t going crazy, and I wasn’t; the message was from Kris.

I didn’t think too much into my reply. I quickly typed out “I didn’t plan to, why?”.

I set my phone down; it was really close to puck drop, so I knew I wouldn’t get a reply until long after the game was over, if a reply at all. But suddenly, my phone went off again. And it was from him, again.

“Oh. Just wondering. You usually do. Are you doing something else tonight?”

I felt my eyes widen with shock. Since when did he care?

“No... Are you doing something else tonight? Shouldn’t you be on the bench and off your phone?”

So, my reply was a little harsh. It was funny... Ever since he dumped me, I would be all sad and yearning for him when he wasn’t saying anything to me, but the second he spoke to me, I would suddenly become filled with hate towards him. I did it unconsciously; it’s like the back of my mind knew that I couldn’t show him that I missed him. He needed to think that I loathed him.

My phone dinged: “Got scratched tonight. I haven’t been feeling well and the coaching staff told me to take tonight off. We’ll be back in town tomorrow, though, with a three day break in games.”

“Oh. Feel better, then.” I replied.

“Thanks.”

I set my phone down and went to my small living room. I turned on my tiny flat screen and there was the game. The Pittsburgh Penguins at Edmonton.

“What a fucking liar...” I said to myself, shaking my head as I watched Kris Letang take the ice to start the game.