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Good for me. Not necessarily to me. Sylvia has good intentions, I know. She wants me to jump back on the dating wagon and be happy again. Her intentions are off, though. She wants me to go on a date with this guy for my own sake. He’d be good for me. At least she thinks he will. She thinks he’ll make me smile again. Make me loosen up. Make me have fun and be happy again. I don’t know if that is possible. She thought I was resistant before? I’ve been even more so since Baby Blue. God, just thinking his name makes me feel weak in the knees and sick all at once, and that’s not even his real name!
It’s been ridiculous how often I’ve thought about him. How often I’ve dreamt about him and woken myself up from the orgasms in my dreams. For a few moments, I smile and feel good. Then the guilt drags me down. I don’t want to date anyone and definitely not a hockey player.
However, I can’t stand Sylvia looking at me like she is.
“Fine. But I’m not going to the game.”
“Please? You’ll be too busy talking to us to even pay attention to it.”
“Fine.” I’m tired of arguing with her. That’s all we do lately. Besides, I can always leave if the game becomes too much for me. “Is Scott even okay with you trying to hook me up with one of his teammates?”
When Sylvia glances away to take a sip of her drink, I know Scott doesn’t have a clue.
“Sylvia! Are you insane?” I definitely can’t do it now. It’s just odd altogether.
“I’ll tell him. He wants you to be happy too, you know. He won’t argue too much.”
Either way, that won’t be my problem. Hell, maybe Scott will end up being on my side. Sylvia talks about how good this will be and I eventually tell my beloved sister-in-law that I have to go. My hands start trembling as soon as I walk out the door. Am I really going to a hockey game tonight? I’ve avoided all sports on ice for five—almost six—years now.
While I’ve come a long way, I still struggle in some aspects. I’m not sure the void will ever be filled, but I do the best I can. Despite Sylvia’s good intentions, this date will probably end up like the rest she’s made me go on this year. For some reason, she’s decided that this is the year I become happy again. I’m not unhappy, but I’m not happy either. I’m in this odd place in between where I can’t go back, but I can’t move forward either. I’m stuck where I am.
And out of all the crazy men Sylvia has set me up with, she thinks a hockey player is going to be the one for me? Maybe I should talk to Scott because she’s losing her damn mind. Just thinking about the game and his job makes me want to throw up and I don’t even know which of Scott’s teammates it is. Not that I would really know. I’ve stayed away from that part of his life.
Time flies by and too soon, Sylvia is here to pick me up. That’s one way to make sure I show up. She frowns at my outfit choice, but doesn’t try to convince me to change. I’m in simple jeans and T-shirt. I’m not here to impress anyone.
“You could’ve at least worn team colors,” she mumbles as she pulls out onto the highway.
My bright yellow shirt definitely isn’t the navy, black, or silver colors the team wears. “What’s the guy’s name?”
“Marc.” She begins telling me all about him. “He’s best friends with Noah Ramsey. He’s a fun guy with a great personality. He may seem a bit full of himself, but it’s all in good humor.” I start tuning out after that.
The closer we get to the arena, the tenser I get. Sylvia knows this is seriously pushing my limits and I fear I’ll break. My mouth stops functioning, turning me mute as we park and head into the arena. I don’t want to be here, especially not for a man. I don’t pay attention as she leads me up stairs and eventually to a door. On the other side is a group of ladies and a few kids. I don’t belong here with the wives and girlfriends.
A soft gasp escapes me when I see the ice. To everyone else, it probably looks normal with the red and blue lines and the Rebels logo in the middle. It’s shiny as it reflects all the overhead lights and looks slick from where a Zamboni probably went over it not too long ago.
But all I see is red.
Blood.
Lots and lots of blood.
A black tunnel narrows my vision. I’m overwhelmed with a sense of lightheadedness. My body feels light and heavy all at once. My chest starts heaving as I struggle for control.
“Lizzy? You okay?”
It gets worse as I hear the players with the slicing of their skates on the ice. Unwanted memories surge forward and consume me. I shake my head and back out of the room. I ha
ve to get out of here. Now. Outside the room and in the hallway, I fall onto my butt, rest my forearms on my knees and my head on my arms, and try to take deep breaths. This proves that it was idiotic to think that I could do this. Sylvia comes to check on me, but I’m too lost in my own head to answer. Air seems to evaporate and I struggle to breathe properly. All I see is red, and all I feel is panic and horror. I stare down at my stomach, repeatedly reminding myself that there is only a yellow shirt and not pools of blood instead.
Eventually, I calm myself down, lifting my head to see Sylvia sitting next to me.
“Better?”
I nod.
“You should probably see someone,” she says gently.
No, what I should do is avoid what causes me to react like this. “I’m just going to sit out here. I can’t...” I wince as if I can still hear the skates on the ice. “I can’t deal with the sounds. You don’t have to sit with me.”
