Chapter Three

The Good Ole Hockey Game

November 2nd, 2006

Toronto, Ontario, Canada

Lyse

The best game you can name,

Is the good ole hockey game

Author's Note: To all those detail sticklers/hockey fans out there, I wrote this chapter before the NHL Season started and did not know what the Hockey schedule was going to be nor the standings.

"Lyse?"

"Mmm?" I poked my head out of the walk-in closet. My friend and roommate, Pageen, was staring at me from the doorway, one eyebrow raised. A hand landed itself on her hip.

"What are you doing in my closet?"

"Looking for something to wear," I replied.

Pageen rolled her eyes – her dark brown, almond-shaped eyes I envied her for. "Well, that's obvious."

I sighed, knowing what question was going to come next.

"Where are you going?"

I turned back around, burying myself in the neatly-kept closet. "To the game." Where was that damn sweater?

"The hockey game? With who?" I heard the bedsprings give under Pageen's weight.

"Mike," I answered shortly. Right now, my number one priority was finding that cozy black sweater I always stole off of my roommate.

"Mike Chaplin?" The level of disbelief in Pageen's voice was sickening. "The same Mike Chaplin who used to pick on you in ninth grade?"

It was my turn to roll my eyes though I knew she couldn't see it. "Yes, the same Mike Chaplin who used to pick on me in ninth grade."

"Really?" She was giving me that 'tell me more, this is entertaining' look; I could feel it. As she asked, I found what I'd been looking for.

"Ah ha!" I cheered in victory. "I found you." I took the sweater from the hanger, quickly throwing it on over the blue t-shirt I already had on. I turned, satisfied and ready to leave the closet. Pageen was still giving me that look. I sighed. "He got a couple of tickets from work, he knows I'm an avid hockey fan, so he asked me if I wanted to go with him–"

"And you said, yes," Pageen finished, amusement thick in her voice.

I folded my arms across my chest. "It's a hockey game; need I say more?" From September till June, hockey was to me what chocolate was to Pageen. Every Monday, Thursday and Saturday night was spent watching Canada's Game, whether I was at work or at home.

Pageen snorted, a laugh following. "Uh huh, sure."

I hated it when she did this, which was every time I went out with a male friend. "Pageen," I whined.

She giggled, apparently royally amused by my agony of being teased by her. She got up off of the bed, shooing me out of her room. "Who are we playing?" I took note of her sudden change of subject, but didn't question it.

"Montréal," I replied, heading for the stairs.

"Ooh," came Pageen's reply, "sibling rivalry." She followed me into the kitchen. "Well, you know who I'll be rooting for."

Yeah, I knew – Montréal, her hometown. Like me, Pageen wasn't from Toronto. We both came here twelve years ago, Pageen from Montréal, myself from Chippewa Falls, Wisconsin. We met four years later in high school. I was in grade nine, she was in grade eleven. Despite my being from Wisconsin, I had quickly grown a love for the Toronto Maple Leafs and watched every game. Pageen; however, maintained her Montréal lineage and always supported them. Sometimes I thought it was just to piss me off, but I loved her.

"Of course," I answered. "But this should be a good game."

"Aren't Toronto and Montréal tied for third?" Pageen asked.

I nodded. "They are. Both teams have been really good so far."

"The season's not over yet," Pageen pointed out.

"That's true, no it's not."

Pageen sat at the breakfast table, watching me wander around, gathering a few last minute provisions as I always did. Last Minute Lyse – that was me. I always waited until the last minute to do anything, whether it was an essay for school or getting ready to go out. Tonight was no exception. I swear, if I ever got an award for something, it would be for getting ready with just enough time to run out the door. Somehow, despite that, I always managed to get to where I had to go about ten minutes before I had to be there.

I could tell, tonight, Pageen was amused by this. Any other time, she would be annoyed to no end and almost yelling at me to get moving, while still maintaining a cool and calm attitude. I don't know how she did it.

"So, where are you sitting?" Pageen asked, as I pulled my head out of the fridge. I held four apples in my hands. Food was so expensive down at the Air Canada Centre that it was just easier and cheaper to bring your own. Drinks I'd get there, but not food.

I grinned, a giggle escaping me. I suddenly felt giddy and light on my feet. I practically danced over to the table, where I threw the apples into a plastic bag. "Behind the Leafs' bench."

Pageen gaped at me, wide-eyed. "You're kidding."

I shook my head, smiling widely. "Nope."

"Nice. I guess you'll–"

The sound of a car horn interrupted Pageen and sent me racing through the kitchen to the foyer. Pageen threw a few granola bars into the bag with the apples, while I shoved my feet into my shoes and pushed my arms through the sleeves of my jacket.

"What time will you be home tonight?" Pageen was shoving the bag of granola bars and apples into my arms.

"I won't. I'm spending the night at Mike's."

"Excuse me?" Those hands were at those hips again.

I sighed, fighting back an eye roll. "He lives like right around the corner from the ACC. It's just easier on him for me to spend the night."

"Mmm-hmm." Apparently, my roommate didn't believe me.

"What?" I mimicked her stance. "Would you rather him driving me home from a hockey game at twelve-thirty in the morning, or me staying the night at his place and coming home at twelve-thirty the next afternoon?"

Pageen's hands dropped from her hips – the sign that she'd been defeated – and nodded. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Just call me when you're on your way tomorrow."

"Yes, mother."

She slapped my arm lightly. "Alright, get going; he's waiting." She might as well have pushed me out the front door. "Have fun."

"Oh, I will," I replied and headed down the driveway.

Mike was leaning against the hood of his car. He saw me and with an amused smile on his face, checked his watch.

He looked up as I approached him. "Last Minute Lyse," he said with a chuckle.

"Would you expect anything less?" I quipped.

"Of course not," he played along. "C'mon."

We got in the car and headed out for the game.

-0o0o0-

The game was intense – any game between the Original Six Hockey teams was. The game was tied 3-3 and there was about five minutes left in the third period. I was yelling at my team to seize an opportunity and take a shot. We had to win. If we won this game, it would put the Leafs two points ahead of the Canadiens – and give me bragging rights at home.

I was almost positive I was pissing off the players in the box, but hey – I'm passionate about what I like.

Mike was beside me, standing as Darcy Tucker gained control of the puck and began a breakaway. Mike's words were slurred and I knew who would be driving home. But, with that aside, the rest of the arena was on their feet as Tucker wove his way through the Montréal defensemen, before passing the puck to Sundin, who took it and sent it into the Montréal net. The crowd was deafening and absolutely crazy.

The last ninety seconds went by quickly, ending with a nearly deaf me, my voice almost gone and Mike almost three-sheets to the wind.

It took a while, but Mike and I worked our way out of the arena and started for Mike's car. I watched Mike pull his keys out of his pocket and that's when I made my move. I reached over and snatched his keys from his hand.

He stopped and stared at me. He swayed slightly on his feet. "What're you doing? What'd you do that for?"

"Because you're drunk and I'm not going to let you drive the car," I told him seriously.

"Ah, c'mon Lyse. You had a couple of drinks too," he protested.

"Exactly! A couple. I saw you get up at least six times for a beer," I said, "I'm not letting you drive."

"Lyse," he continued. "I'm fine. Give me the keys." He started to reach for them.

I pulled my hand back. Mike – a good friend, but somewhat annoying when drunk. "No, Mike. You're not driving."

He made another grab for the keys and that was the last straw for me. I put the keys into the one place I knew he wouldn't dare go after them – my bra.

He stared at me, wide-eyed. "You didn't just do that…"

"I did," I spoke sharply. "Now, we have three choices here: We can walk, take a cab or I can drive home. I know you're not gonna want to walk and you're not gonna take a cab. And you're definitely not going to leave your car in that parking lot over night. That leaves us with only one option left."

"Why Lyse?"

And here was where I struggled to keep myself from strangling him. "Because you're drunk and if you drive that car, you're compromising your safety, my safety and the safety of everyone else on that road with you. I'm not going to say it again, Mike. I'm not letting you drive."

I watched his eyes roll and his shoulders slump. "Alright, fine. You drive home."

Finally. "Thank you. Let's go."

We continued to the car, got in and after paying a ridiculous parking fee, headed for his condo.

-0o0o0-

The journey to Mike's condo was uneventful, for which I was grateful. Mike was now passed out on the couch and I knew he wouldn't be going anywhere and would wake up with a slight hangover. I was standing at the living room window looking out over the Lake, trying to ignore the throbbing headache taking up residency in my forehead and behind my eyes. It felt like a stress headache, but the only form of stress I had tonight was keeping Mike from driving home drunk. For me, that usually wasn't enough to cause a headache of any size. I didn't remember Pageen being stressed about anything, besides the fact that I was spending the night here. But Pageen was the calmest person on this earth even on the most hectic of days. Hell, even when she was yelling at me to get a move-on, she had this unexplainable aura of calm about her.

I sighed. Sometimes having empathy had its downfalls. For me, it was whenever anyone bonded to me – someone like Pageen or my parents and siblings – was in pain or distress, I felt it. The only thing was, I was never always sure of who it was – although, there were often "signs" that gave me some idea. This was different though. It didn't feel familiar and that unnerved me slightly.

Not wanting to dwell on it and give this headache a roommate, I ignored it and dismissed it as coming from someone I knew. Mike maybe? Dismissing what I couldn't explain often helped me feel a bit better about them.

I turned and went into the kitchen to make myself a cup of coffee. I sat down at the dining room table, facing the wall, all the lights off – save for the one on the television unit. My headache flared, sending the room for a minor spin. I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose. I wished I knew where this headache was coming from. Maybe it was my own. I sighed. This was going to be an interesting night and I knew tomorrow would be even better.

Yeah right.