I actually really liked ice skating too, and I’d taken both hockey and figure skating lessons as a child, but hockey had appealed to me more.It was the teamwork, or maybe the brute force of it.Both sports required a high degree of physicality, but hockey called to something deep inside me.Something primal.
My physique was better suited for hockey too.My brother had inherited my mother’s slimness and grace, while I’d gotten my dad’s height and musculature.
Nothing about winter sports called to my brother, despite my mom’s hopes that he’d go into skating.He hated playing sports, even the non-ice ones that my parents had insisted that he at least try.Now he was an accountant, happily living the single life in New York City.He’d promised to make it to Italy for at least one of my games though.We’d been close growing up and he’d always been a big supporter of mine.
I got the puck and started racing towards the net.I saw something flying towards me in my peripheral vision and then I was flying into the boards, checked by Volkova.It lacked her usual force though.The puck flew away but for a second we both stayed up against the glass, neither of us wanting to move first.Then a whistle blew loudly behind us.
“Volkova!Lindstrom!”one of the coaches yelled.“Save the brute force for the Finns, not your teammates!”
We broke apart, both of us breathing heavily.
“Thanks roomie,” I said with false cheerfulness.“I needed another bruise.”
Yvonne skated off without a word.
“Asshole,” I called.
To my shock, she gave me the finger over her shoulder.I couldn’t help but laugh.I didn’t even know she had it in her.It kind of made me like her more.
Practice continued for another hour, followed by a group yoga class.By the time we hit the showers, I was hungry again, and ready for a nap.Despite our efforts to combat it, jet lag was still setting in.
I went to the cafeteria with a few of my teammates.Yvonne had disappeared, so I presumed that she’d either gone back to the room or walked over to the other cafeteria with the rest of the team.
She was sitting at the little table in our room when I got back, a container of salad and a kindle in front of her.I guess she’d chosen to eat alone.
“Hey.”
She gave me a curt nod but didn’t say anything.I pulled out the chair across from her and stared at her until she looked up.
“What’s going on?”I asked.“We were getting along fine this morning, but now you seem pissed at me.Is it because I asked you about your father?”
It was the only thing I could think of, given how her attitude had changed after that part of the conversation.
“Don’t talk to me about my father,” she snapped, telling me that my suspicions were correct.
“Fine,” I snapped right back.“I won’t.”
There was a long, pregnant pause before she spoke again.
“We’re not going to be friends, Lindstrom.”
“Fine with me,” I shot back.“I have lots of friends.Excuse me for trying to be friendly when we’re stuck here in this tiny little closet together.”
“You think I’m happy about this roommate arrangement?”she asked.
“I think we were getting along fine last night and had a perfectly nice conversation at breakfast, and something freaked you out or something and then you turned into a royal bitch, that’s what I think.”
I know, but sometimes that word was the perfect descriptor, whether I liked it or not.
“Nothing freaked me out.”.
“Then why are you acting like this?”I asked.“Why were you trying to grind me into the fucking boards today?”
“Because,” she said.
A long pause ensued before I finally prompted, “Because what?”
“Because you bother me, Lindstrom.There’s something about you that makes me feel itchy, like my skin is too tight.”
