The Zamboni Driver

26

Chase

February arrives with winter storm after winter storm. When it's not snowing, freezing rain is pelting the community, making the roads treacherous. It's not good timing for officially re-opening our pub, but Kayce and I aren't too concerned. We have a steady influx of college kids, regulars, and people who are supportive of local businesses. A lot of them are city-dwellers, too. Which means they live in the downtown core and can easily walk.

With the re-opening only a few hours away, Kayce and I are putting the final touches on the additional space. He's polishing the three bowling lanes while I scrub the tables and dust everything. Kayce's comment from Spencer and Lennon's birthday rings through my mind, and I have to sigh because he's right. No matter how rigorous your cleaning efforts are, drywall dust still lingers.

We continue to work with our heads down and the music blasting. By the time we're finished, Kayce's back hurts from vacuuming and my hands are blistered from mopping. My stomach's a little queasy, too. Seeing the colour of the water makes me want to disinfect everything, despite the rigorous cleaning session.

Once all the cleaning supplies have been put away, we congregate at the bar, sipping two glasses of ice water.

"So," Kayce says. "What do you think?"

When I look around the pub, my emotions come out flatter than normal. I'm happy with what's been accomplished, but something's nagging at my well-being. When Kayce and I first opened this pub, it was my pride and joy. There's nothing better than feeling the effects of success. Now... I don't know. I feel a little disconnected from the pub. Like I'm in the wrong place.

"It looks great," I reply.

My voice isn't convincing because Kayce gives me a look. "What's going on with you? Did the plans come up short?"

"No!" I exclaim. "Man, you did a phenomenal job of planning and designing. This has nothing to do with that, okay? I'm just... Well..." Internally, I roll my eyes. Talking about hockey has always come naturally. Now I seem to struggle. Maybe it's because Kayce knows my story and I'm scared to see his reaction. I take a deep breath. "I'm thinking about playing hockey again."

Kayce does a good job of keeping his face neutral while he studies me. Several times, I have to avert my gaze elsewhere. Kayce, although he's a good person, can make you crack under pressure with his stare. "Forgive my skepticism, but is that a good idea?" Kayce asks. "I'm not implying you're weak. When pressure and stress build up, people can become susceptible to their old habits again. I don't want you turning to drugs again, Chase." He sighs. "That being said, I also don't want you to miss out on an opportunity. Hockey is something you're passionate about..."

Kayce trails off, rubbing his jaw. He doesn't look at me.

I've gone over this conversation several times in my head. This is how I pictured it. For the most part. I expected a little more skepticism from him. All he's ever cared about is my well-being. He wasn't there during my struggles with addiction, but he knows the story. Every detail of it. When I told him, I had him in tears by the end. Hence the reason he's so concerned.

"Man," he breathes. He sits down beside me. "I don't want to risk experiencing my best friend overdose."

I pick at my cuticles. "No, I don't want you to experience that, either. Kayce, this urge to play hockey again scares the shit out of me. There are so many ways this could go wrong. I will not say I'm okay. Addiction doesn't just go away. It's part of my personality. Part of who I am. Just like the overdose is. Every day, there is a battle between me and the choices I make because I can separate the nineteen-year-old version of myself from who I am now. But there is one difference. This time, I have the resources I need to cope. There are different strategies that don't involve heroin. I know the difference between healthy and unhealthy, the signs I need to look for. There are also people I can trust—you, Lennon, Spencer, Tobias, Maya, Dr. Ames." I pause, feeling an overwhelming sense of emotions. My nose burns as I hold back the tears. "I know I'm asking a lot, Kayce. But I want your support through this. I need you to trust my judgement and be confident because some things don't change. I'm still a hockey player at heart. My passion for the sport never left, and I think... No, it is why I became Toronto's Zamboni driver. To feel close to home."

Kayce gnaws on his bottom lip, staring ahead at the wall of colourful bottles of liquor and liqueur. Then he turns to me and grasps my shoulder. A tear slips down his cheek. "I'll support whatever decision you make, Chase. That's what friends are for. I'll always be here, no matter what. Hockey is your domain. Go back and reclaim your dream. Just... if you ever feel like something's off, you come to me. Otherwise, I'll fuck you up. Got it? I'll do anything for you, man." He takes a deep breath, glancing at me. "But I'm gonna need free tickets."

I laugh, giving him a rough shove. "Fuck you, Kayce." I take a dramatic pause, then pull him into a hug. "You can have seasons passes."

* * *

Spencer and Lennon arrive later in the evening, after a game against Calgary. They enter wearing pre-game clothing that's similar. Both are wearing a suit with a white undershirt. However, Spencer's outfit is much more chic. In place of a dress shirt, she's wearing a white silk tank top that fits her figure, along with a pair of small black heeled shoes and a familiar necklace. Her heels click against the floor as she makes her way over, with Lennon close behind.

"Spencer! Lennon!" Kayce says. He saunters over and exchanges a high five with each of them. "What do you think of the renovations?"

"It looks fantastic!" Lennon exclaims. He elbows Kayce in the gut. "Round of bowling?"

Kayce grins. "You're on."

With a quick hello and an even quicker goodbye, Kayce and Lennon head over to the bowling lanes, leaving me and Spencer by the bar. Which is busy at the moment. I sigh and jerk a thumb over my shoulder. "I better get back to work."

"Wait! This is for you, Chase," Spencer says.

From behind her back, she hands me a bottle of gin. My face falters. Shit. She's bought me alcohol. How do I tell her I won't drink it? I've never explicitly told her I don't drink. "I..."

She holds up a hand. "It's non-alcoholic gin, Chase. Even if I think this is a crime against my gin-based religion, I know you don't drink. I've never tried it before, but maybe we can make some mocktails. Test it out."

I tuck the bottle close to my body, smiling weakly. "Thanks, Spence. Sorry I assumed—"

She cuts me off. "It's fine, really. Don't worry about it. Without reading the label, it looks like a regular bottle of gin."

"No." I shake my head and set the bottle down on the bar. Then I take her hand and thread my fingers through hers, squeezing. "I know you better than that. It was wrong of me to judge. Let me take accountability. I'm sorry, Spence." I nod at the bottle. "The thought you put into this is amazing. Thank you."

A strange look passes across her face. Something between awe and shock, maybe? I can't decipher it. A question sits on the tip of my tongue. I want to know what she's feeling right now. Why she's feeling that way.

Until a customer cuts me off.

"Excuse me!" A customer bangs their first against the wooden bar top. "What does it take to get a drink around here?"

I shoot Spencer and apologetic smile. "Sorry. I need to get back to work."

Spencer eyes the bar. "Will you get sued if I help?"

It's difficult to not fall victim to the sparkle in her eyes. "Only if we get caught."

Smiling, she pushes past me, steps behind the bar, and opens the drawer. From it, she removes a black apron. She then ties her hair up and washes her hands. "Show me what to do, boss."