Page 67 of Shiver
It is only because my routine is ingrained in my mind that my feet take me where I need to go. Through class, hearing none of it. To the gym, conditioning. Half-heartedly. To the cafeteria for food, but I’m not sure I eat anything. And then to the arena for practice.
It is five, and I still haven’t received a text from Rake. I would normally head over right after practice. If he doesn’t text me, am I supposed to go? What will happen if I do? Will he take me in his arms and hug me, tell me everything is fine? That he was just having a bad morning? Maybe he received a call right before I woke up and something horrible had happened.
I stare into my cubby after I change, not knowing what to do. Not even my shedding ritual is enough to pull my mind out of the hollow pit it is falling down. Looking at my phone again and it staring blankly up at me, has me turning and heading for the ice.
Practice is… awful. I fuck it all up. Everything I do is weak. I can’t catch my breath. Hell, I can’t breathe at all. Coach Larder, Adak’s replacement, is constantly screaming my name. But this time, it isn’t impressed as it had been last week. Right now, he is ready to pull his hair out. Ready to bench me.
He should. It is only because my teammates keep rallying around me, saying that I am just having a bad day and that I’d get it together that he doesn’t. They are a sea of blurry faces that I have a hard time concentrating on.
At the end of practice, I somehow land on my back on the ice. There I stay. Staring up into the blinding lights above the rink. Maybe the Zamboni will run me over. Polish me and make me all shiny and new.
Maybe then Rake will want me again.
It takes me far too much time to pull myself to my feet and head into the locker room. My team is in the shower. I can hear their voices. I strip and follow, letting the hot water fall down my skin. Wash away everything.
But it is still there when I step out. I dress and pick up my phone. The movement makes the screen flash and there it is. A text. Rake’s name flashes on my screen before it goes dark. My heart hammers in my chest and I flick it on. There’s a lump in my throat. But when I pull it up, everything in me hits the floor like a ball of lead.
Rakesh Aahnu
No session tonight.
That’s it. Nothing else. Does that mean I can still come over? Does that mean he still wants me in his bed? I bite my lip and text back.
Me
Does that mean I shouldn’t come over?
No answer. No answer. For long minutes, I receive no answer.
Staring at my screen, I walk out of the locker room, waiting for him to respond. With anything. At all. But standing outside in the warm evening Arizona air, I know I’m not going to get one. Tears sting my eyes again. The desperate feeling that I am falling, that something heavy sits on my chest, falls over me. Consuming me. Making my head all murky.
I click my phone off and look around. “One night,” I tell myself, rallying my strength to go get dinner. “It’s just one night. That’s all. It’s fine to need space.”
Saying it out loud makes it true, makes it easier to believe.
I eat. Then I go back to my room. When was the last time I was here? Ignoring everything, I climb into bed with my phone in my hand. Clutching it tightly.
Just one night. I can do one night.
Tuesday brings more silence. And during practice, as on Monday, I receive the text that he is canceling my tutor session. I text him back, irritated that he is texting me when he knows I am at practice and don’t have my phone.
He doesn’t answer.
Does he know I am driving myself up a wall with this? Does he know I am fucking panicking? Thinking the worst things? Questioning everything?
Does he care?
The thought that he never cared at all whispers through my head, but I push it aside. It’s not true. I won’t believe it. I refuse. He fucking held me when I was upset because of Temca. You don’t do that if you don’t care. You just don’t. He didn’t have to, and he did it anyway.
Wednesday is the same. Silence until the text to cancel tonight, which I can’t even respond to. And then more silence.
By Thursday I haven’t slept at all. I am a fucking mess. I go to his classes. The ones he teaches, but he isn’t there. In either class. I go to his office, but he is never there. Every single time I drop in, he isn’t there.
His officemate is. She looks at me, startled. Horrified. “Can I help you?”
“I’m looking for Rakesh,” I tell her.
She shakes her head. “I haven’t seen him. Do you want me to leave him a message?”
