Zambon-I Love You

I: Pilot

BZZZZZZZZZ
The sound of the alarm to get off the ice rings through my joints as I watch the skaters make their way to the exit.
One of my favorite parts of the job is seeing all the different types of people that come to the rink during public hours. There's something charming about the newbies on the ice, whether they've been dragged here by their friends or they're just excited to glide upon the ice for the first time. It's nice to see them get their "ice legs" and become more confident, but my favorite people to see are those that really feel at peace and like themselves on the ice. They might not necessarily be pros, but they can get by, and you can tell that they just love to be able to fly across the ice without a care in the world. It makes me feel like I'm missing out on something just watching from behind the glass.
As the last of the skaters exit the ice and a worker closes the gate I get ready to make my way onto the ice to smooth it and get it ready for the next wave of visitors.
Daniel opens the gate in front of me, hops onto the driver's seat, and fires my engine. He directs me out onto the ice and we begin our important work. This is my favorite part because I can see the people on the side lines better, as some of them like to watch me and Daniel prep the ice. There's a kid sitting on his father's shoulders, pressing his nose against the glass to get a better look. Two teenagers laugh as one of them loses their footing and trips. An old man who is actually quite proficient in his skates sits down to rest on a bench.
And as I watch the happy community of strangers I get that fluttery feeling in my engine that makes me feel, well, lonely. My engine stalls for a split second.
"C'mon, girl, don't give me this." Daniel mutters under his breath.
He gives me a sharp kick and that does the trick, as I lurch forward and continue on to resurface the ice.
I don't really mind when Daniel has to kick my butt back into gear because I know that's his job. He's not particularly nice, but he's not that bad to work with. I just wish he'd show some appreciation to me once in a while.
We finish resurfacing the ice and Daniel pulls me back into the garage, and cuts the engine.
"Hey, Arnold," Daniel calls to the maintenance guy who is setting up some gear for the upcoming junior hockey class.
"What's up?" Arnold asks as he walks over.
"I dunno man, she just keeps giving me crap when I pull her about halfway through the rink, and I have to jolt her back into gear." Daniel says, as he hops down from the driver's seat.
"All right, I'll give the shop a call." Says Arnold.
"Do you think it's time to, you know," Daniel lowers his voice as he says the next part, "get a new zamboni?"
Arnold laughs.
"Why are you whipering man?" He says through chuckles. "You afraid she's gonna hear you and run you over or something?"
Honestly, I have half a mind to do just that to teach them a thing or two about manners!
Daniel doesn't think it's that funny, I can tell, but he gives a courtesy laugh anyways.
"Naw, man. But I mean, sometimes there's weird things that happen when I'm cleaning her conditioner."
"What do you mean by that?" Arnold places his foot on my wheel and rests his arm on his knee.
"Well, sometimes when a kid falls on the ice or something I swear--it almost sounds like she laughs."
A burst of laughter escapes from Arnold. "Man, you're full of it! I don't know what kinda stuff you're on, but you gotta loosen up or something cause that is ridiculous."
Daniel shakes his head at Arnold and pats my side.
"I know it's just a zamboni, Arnold, but sometimes you just wonder."
"Yeah, okay Dan. I gotta lock up some, uh, stuff so see you around." Arnold rubs the back of his neck like he is suddenly uncomfortable and turns to walk away.
Daniel wipes his forehead and slightly smiles. "Maybe I am going crazy." He murmurs.
You're not crazy, Daniel, I want to say, I'm right here. But no one can hear me. I'm alone with this.
He gives me another pat and walks away, and I'm left alone with my thoughts until it's time to close for the night. As his form dissapears behind the corner, I can't help but feel like a chill fills the space where he once was.