The Tampa Terror

Part 12: Nils

If there is one thing I did not expect to encounter today, it was Tuukka Rask, the primary goaltender for the Boston Bruins, wearing the jersey of one of his team's rivals and calmly conversing with Tom McAfee.

The two men are in the hallway, a few feet from the Tampa Bay Lightning locker room entrance. I'm poking my head out of the previously mentioned locker room, attempting to eavesdrop on the conversation and figure out exactly why the Boston goaltender is in Florida.

I cannot hear much, but Tom McAfee is speaking in an enthusiastic tone. His eyes are enormous, and his gestures are frantic. His voice sounds about an octave higher than usual. His excitement is not surprising to me, considering he is meeting a player from his favorite team.

"My friend Anja asked me to talk to you," Tuukka explains, and Tom listens attentively. "She's a spirit too. She informed me that you are a Bruins fan."

"I've loved the Bruins since I was born!" Tom exclaims eagerly.

Tuukka smiles in response. "Well, that's great to hear. I'm glad you cheer for the coolest team in the National Hockey League."

I can't help but roll my eyes after hearing that. The statement about the Boston Bruins being the most awesome NHL team is untrue.

"I wouldn't dream of supporting anyone else," Tom confesses honestly. "So, why did this friend request that you talk to me?"

"Anja's hypothesis is that me being a Bruin will be enough to convince you that your decision to leave the players in this competition alone is good if you aren't already convinced," Tuukka responds.

That makes Tom grin understandingly. "That makes complete sense. Why are you wearing a Montréal Canadiens jersey, though?"

Tuukka looks down, partially embarrassed, but he has a slight smile. "Anja, the friend that asked me to come here, was a fan of theirs. I know they're our rivals, but you stop caring about rivalries when you have a friend who is as amazing as she was."

Tom frowns as he remembers his life. "I never had any friends like that. Maybe my loneliness was the source of some of my anger."

"Maybe," Tuukka agrees, then sighs. "Are you one hundred percent sure that you will never haunt any of these players again? From what I've heard, you traumatized many of them. Haunting is a serious matter."

"I promise you on my life that I am finished with haunting," Tom blurts, then pauses as he realizes what he has just said. "Wait, never mind. I'm dead, so I can't make that kind of promise. Well, I promise with my whole heart that I won't haunt any more players, even though my heart no longer beats."

Both of them laugh at Tom's joking. It's evident to me that Tom is slowly becoming a more easygoing and relaxed person. He is no longer as defensive and aggressive as he was at the beginning of this series. His incredible transformation is so refreshing to watch.

The two men have been silent for a while now, so I assume they have left the area. I exit the Lightning dressing room to briefly stroll through the hallway. Walking always calms my nerves before an important game, and no match is more significant than the one scheduled to start in thirty minutes. If my team and I succeed tonight, we will win the Stanley Cup for the second consecutive year.

My assumption that Tuukka and Tom have left turns out to be incorrect. Instead, they both turn to look at me when they hear me exit Tampa Bay's dressing room.

I hold up both of my hands as a gesture of apology. "I'm very sorry. I did not mean to interrupt any conversation that you two were having. I was just taking a stroll."

Tuukka blinks. "You're Nils Salvesen of the Lightning, correct?"

I simply nod yes in response because I refuse to open my mouth, fearing that I will accidentally reveal to Tuukka and Tom that I have been eavesdropping on their conversation.

"Well, you're allowed to walk through your arena," Tuukka shrugs. "I was just having a conversation with Tom about haunting. He has promised that he is finished torturing your team and the Canadiens."

"I was already convinced by the other spirits to stop my haunting spree, but a Bruins player telling me that my decision to haunt people traumatized those people made me realize that stopping was the best choice," Tom explains. "Tell your teammates and opponents there is no need to worry about me torturing them anymore."

"He's right," the Bruins goaltender beside him confirms. "You can finally stop fearing for your life and for the lives of others."

I don't mean for my sigh of relief to be loud, but it is. I just can't help but be delighted that the rest of the Finals will pass by without anything terrifying and supernatural happening to the participating players. Even if the series does end tonight, its participants will still definitely appreciate the few hours of freedom from being haunted by Tom that we will get to enjoy.

I am happier for Gustav than I am for anyone else. The thought makes me feel some guilt, but the amount of regret I experience is so minuscule compared to my feelings of delight. My beloved boyfriend, who was almost murdered by Tom before the second game of this series, can finally be assured that he will never be threatened by Tom like that again.

Spurred on by that thought, my casual stroll through the basement of AMALIE Arena turns into a brisk jog. The people I pass while running must be pretty surprised and confused, but I'm too excited to care about what anybody thinks of me.

Tom has decided to stop haunting us. We are finally free.

I return to the dressing room a few minutes later, change into my equipment, and mentally prepare for the fifth game of the finals series. If we are victorious tonight, we will be awarded the Stanley Cup.

Gustav, who has already changed into his uniform and done all his stretches, comes to my stall and sits on my leg. I pull him close, and he sighs contentedly as he rests his head on my shoulder.

It will be a dream come true if we defeat the Canadiens tonight. How miraculous would it be if we won the Stanley Cup the same day I learned that Tom was truthful about not haunting us anymore? Gustav, who was threatened with death at the commencement of this series, will get to celebrate with the Stanley Cup at its conclusion.

I should not be imagining a future that has not yet happened because doing so will distract me from performing well in the game. So, I stop thinking about what will happen if we win and start thinking about how I will help my team come out of tonight's contest with a victory.

Coach Cooper announces it is time to go out onto the ice and orders everyone to form a line. Gustav reluctantly climbs off my lap, and we get in line together.

"Let's go win that Stanley Cup," Gustav squeezes my gloved hand.

"Without worrying about Tom interfering with the game or our lives," I smile as I return the gesture.

Gustav's eyes brighten, and knowing he no longer has to fear for his life fills me with joy.
We skate onto the ice, prepared to become victors for the second consecutive year.