Hockey Skates

I knew he didn't like hockey, but I never understood why. I loved everything to do with winter, especially if it meant engaging with the elements to the fullest.

Cold? Why not freezing? So when it came time to don the old ice skates and hit the pond I was thrilled.

We were bundled up and heading for the car when he stopped halfway down the driveway.

"What is it? Did you forget something?" I asked, hardly taking the time to turn back over my shoulder to speak. I had my skates in one hand and my keys in the other. I was anxious to get going. I unlocked the car with a few excited beeps and hustled into the car throwing my skates on the back seat. Laif hadn't moved from his spot. This was unusual. I started the car to get it warming and poked my head out the still open door.

"Are you coming? What's going on?" He jolted as if he had been asleep and ambled toward my blue sedan.

Slowly he got into the car.

"Are you not feeling well?" I asked. "We don't have to go," I told him, my heart sinking at the thought of not making it to the ice tonight.

He shook his head. "I'm fine." He didn't sound it. I hesitated with my hand on the gear shift.

"What's going on then, Laif?" I asked again. "You seemed fine a moment ago."

"Natalie," he began as if he hadn't even been listening to me. I waited. "Natalie," he said again. Slowly, looking at his knees.

"Yes?"

"I told you about Mar, right?" He was still staring at his knees, fumbling with his gloves.

Mar? Mar? I was racking my brain for something.

"I don't think so. Remind me."

He looked up slowly to meet my gaze, but only held it for a split second. I think he has only looked to see that I was truly not following him.

"Marta?" he said, half a question.

I shook my head. I couldn't tell if he was really upset about something, but he seemed off. I couldn't pull out of the driveway without checking what was up.

"Can this wait?" I asked, anxious not to be late. Everyone would be there already and have picked teams if we didn't leave soon.

"Sure," he mumbled. I gave him a hesitant look before pulling on my seatbelt and looking over my shoulder to back down the driveway.

I glanced over at him a few times as I drove. He sat there silently. I was really torn now between hockey and my boyfriend. Something was wrong. He was never this quiet.

"Are you sure you're alright?" I asked.

"I'm sure I'm not," he finally admitted.

I was exasperated now. Was he wanting to talk or not? If he wanted to talk he needed to just say it and stop being mysterious. Should I pull over or keep driving? Was he just gonna sulk the whole drive? The whole time we were out on the ice?

"Are you feeling sick?" I asked. I'd rather deal with a sick boyfriend than whatever he was doing right now!

He looked over at me and then back at his knees.

"I'm not sick," he said. "Just... upset."

I was starting to get worried now. What on earth was his problem? Doubt and fear started to flood over me. I could feel the burning cold sensation on the back of my neck.

He was about to break up with me, I was sure of it. I pulled over into an empty parking lot, trying not to let myself get carried away before he'd even said anything, but my mind was racing now.

Had he ever mentioned a Marta to me? Was this someone he has met recently? Was I about to be replaced? A lump was forming in my throat as I feared what he was going to say next.

"You don't have to pull over," he told me.

I was having trouble speaking at this point, but despite the lump in my throat I mumbled that I thought this would be better. But he didn't speak and nor did I.

He continued to look at his jeans, unsure how to continue I guess. So I gave him a prompt.

"Who is Marta?" I asked, my heart squirming with the fear of what he would say. When he still didn't answer I added, "Have I met her?"

"No," he said. "You haven't."

"Okay?" I was completely lost and getting very worried at this point. He was about to tell me that he cheated on me. I was having trouble keeping calm. I was sure that he would soon be able to hear my heart beating out of my chest.

"And you won't meet her," he continued. "She's dead."