Shredding Ice

chapter twelve

Elliot removed the standing sign on the women's restroom door and went to the janitor's cart to grab a yellow one. He always mopped last, so he kept the slippery floor sign up for at least half an hour afterward. Once it was propping the door open (Walter insisted it went there so no one would be able to say they didn't see it) he walked across the alcove to the men's room and swung the door open swiftly.

"Sorry! I meant to knock. I should have knocked, sorry." Elliot could instantly feel his cheeks heating up and blossoming to the rest of his face.

It was the man he had unlocked the closet for a few days earlier. He was standing at the sink and his eyes were so wide they looked like they might just roll out of his head without notice.

"I'm...more sorry." He took one hand off the counter to face him.

Elliot noticed right away. The hand that still gripped the counter had streaks of liquid red running over it. Three distinct lines ran through the mirror hanging above the sink. Those definitely weren't there when Elliot cleaned the bathroom the day before.

At first, he thought the man had punched the mirror, but there was no shattered spider web where his fist would have connected. No, it wasn't the mirror. He had punched straight through the tiled wall right next to it.

"Yuh-you're bleeding," he whispered. The blush from his face spread down his neck, no doubt drawing out the red in his hair.

"Yeah. I know."

They stood in silence, neither looking at the other. Elliot was contemplating leaving to give the man privacy, but there was also property damage and he had to get the man to talk to Walter. But Walter wasn't even at the rinks; he had told Elliot to lock up because of some family emergency. Elliot had a suspicion that he just didn't want to deal with the big hockey event going on (he didn't either; he showed up when it ended).

"Do you need a bandage?" He fiddled with the keys linked to the loop on his jumpsuit. "I can unlock the first aid kiosk."

"No, no. I don't want to trouble you." The man lifted both hands with a wince, then let the injured hand fall back to the counter. He cringed and Elliot wondered if the sight of blood made him dizzy.

"I'm already troubled." He was looking at the hole in the wall as he said it.

"Uh, sorry." He blushed too.

"So, bandage?"

"Sure. Yeah, thanks."

Elliot nodded and turned toward the door. He grabbed the handle but paused to turn back to him. "Have you washed it? You should do that."

He turned toward the sink and Elliot finally left the room. But before the door could finish its slow swing shut, the red haired man was rushing back in the room and closing the door forcefully.

Again, the other man stared at him with wide eyes.

"Sorry." Maybe Walter would hire someone else. Just for the bathrooms.

"Are you okay?" He winced as soap got into the cuts on his knuckles. His other hand scrubbed carefully.

"Yeah. There's just this kid out there."

"You're hiding from a kid?"

Elliot barely scrunched his nose. "He's more like a young man I guess. But he acts like a kid sometimes."

"It's fine. I'm kind of hiding too." He gave a small smile, and Elliot noticed that he actually seemed pretty sad.

"My name is Elliot," he offered. His shoulders relaxed a bit. The door was cool against his back.