{Patrick}
"Alright boys, one more lap around, and then feel free to shoot as you wish for a few minutes before practice ends." Coach Q announces, blowing his whistle.
A few of the guys nod, and begin slowly skating around the open rink.
It's Wednesday, July 6, about 5:30 in the evening.
Coach Q held an optional hour-long practice for those of the Blackhawks that wanted to participate, this afternoon.
Coach Q always does this, at the beginning of every summer.
He hosts usually just one practice in the first week of July, and then the rest of the summer, there is hardly any hockey.
Typically, these practices are not intense at all; they are simply just "fun" practices that any of the Hawks can attend.
To be honest, there isn't really a point to these practices.
They are optional, and not that many guys show up.
It's summer, and the guys want time off.
However, I usually like to show up, just so I can get back on the ice one more time before I really get into summer.
These practices are much more for enjoyment than anything else.
There are about ten guys here today, so the United Center, and its ice are almost completely empty.
I finish my quick lap, and take a few shots from the right circle.
I do one more lap around the rink, admiring the building.
I won't be back here full-time until the end of August.
This building holds so many memories.
I've won a couple cups in this building, and that is a feeling that can't be compared.
I make my way through the tunnel and into the locker room, where I sit down at my stall and begin to take off my equipment.
The locker room sure is quiet without Shawzy here.
Jonathan sits across from me, taking off his equipment one-by-one.
Of course Captain Serious is here.
Where else would he be?
"I wasn't surprised when you showed up." I laugh, looking across at Jonathan.
He looks up, a small smile on his face, his mouth partly open.
"What did you expect?" He laughs.
I roll my eyes, as I take off my skates.
Coach Q then walks into the locker room, and begins his last speech.
"I'm extremely proud of what this team has accomplished this year. Good practice today boys, and enjoy your summers. Catch up on some family time, and relax. Also, enjoy your days with the Cup!" Coach Q says, nodding.
With that, he leaves the locker room.
All of us guys hit the showers, and then finish changing back into our regular clothes for the evening.
"Any of you guys up for going for a few drinks? I'm buying." Duncan Keith says, as he puts on his shirt.
"Yeah, that sounds sweet. I'll come!" Saader says.
"Sounds sweet." Corey Crawford agrees.
A few of the other guys such as Sharpie, Seabs, Kris Versteeg, and Bryan Bickell all agree to go for drinks, one last time.
I look over at Jonathan, and he shrugs at me, nodding his head.
"Yeah, Kaner and I are in." Jonathan says.
"Sick. Let's head to The Windy City Night Bar. See you guys in twenty." Duncs says, as he leaves the locker room, hockey bag slung over his shoulder.
I finish packing up my stuff, and then leave the United Center.
I throw my large hockey bag into the trunk of my car, and then get in.
I look up at the sky, where dark thunder clouds are visible just outside of the city.
They are moving towards the city, and fast.
It's been really hot lately, so it's no surprise that we are going to get a thunderstorm tonight.
I start the car, and make my way down the road towards The Windy City Night Bar.
***
"Damn it's raining hard!" Bicks calls out, as Jonathan, Bryan, Brandon, and myself make our way out of the bar, towards the parking lot.
It's about 10:30 in the evening, and the four of us decided that it was time for us to head back home.
"I know, it's so loud!" Saader yells, his voice hardly audible, because of the sound of the rain.
I look up at the sky, covering my face with my hand as best as possible.
The rain pours down on my face, rolling down my cheeks, and through my hair.
My t-shirt is soaking wet, and there is nothing I can do to change that now.
I have literally just walked outside the bar, and I am already soaking wet.
It's dark out, but you can really tell that the sky is even darker tonight, because of the obvious, large storm cloud that sits just above us.
Every few moments, a large sheet or fork of lightning will appear, followed by a deafening roar of thunder.
It's as if the Gods are fighting.
"Well, I'm headed to my car! Drive safe boys!" Jonathan calls, as he makes his way down to the other side of the parking lot where he parked.
The four of us say our quick goodbyes, and I locate my car, getting in as fast as possible.
I close the door behind me, and the rain makes loud patters against the outside of my car.
I start the car, rubbing my hands together.
The rain is cold too.
I can't even imagine how bad that storm cloud is.
I haven't seen a storm like this in ages.
You can hardly see halfway up any of the buildings in Downtown, because of the visibility.
I start the car, as well as my windshield wipers, and back out of my parking spot.
I turn out of the parking lot, almost unable to see the road completely.
Thankfully, Trump Tower isn't far from the bar, so it's a short five minute drive down the road.
Within five minutes, I have reached the underground parking lot, and have parked my car.
I get out, and notice that I have made the driver's seat soaking wet.
"Fuck." I mutter.
Whatever.
I'll have to deal with that later.
Abigail is probably wondering where I am.
I make my way up to the eighty-fourth floor, and can almost feel the building shaking every time I hear the thunder boom.
Watching thunderstorms from the apartment is sick.
The lightning is literally outside your window, it's incredible.
I make my way out of the elevator, and finally arrive at the apartment.
Unlocking the door, I notice I am dripping water.
Oops.
I take my first steps into the apartment, when a loud noise is made.
Thunder crashes, and slashes violently with the peace that usually falls over this city.
The entire apartment is dark.
The only light on is the one coming from the TV.
It flickers, revealing the girl sitting on the couch.
Abigail.
Her arms are crossed, and I can see from here that her light brown hair falls in gorgeous loose curls around her face.
The TV light dances in the reflection of her eyes.
Good God, those eyes.
I love them. With everything I am made of.
I'm honestly sort of surprised she's still up, as she's been pretty tired lately.
I make my way over to the couch, and notice that she is dressed up.
Her feet are tucked under her body, and her high heels are in her hands, dangling from her fingers.
She's wearing a beautiful tight white dress, and her makeup is done, as well as her hair.
What's going on?
She looks up at me, and the disappointment in her face is evident.
I notice this immediately, and my face grows worried.
"You forgot." Is all she says, shaking her head slightly.
Lightning flashes, illuminating the room for a second.
Thunder follows shortly after, and the skyscraper seems its trembling.
I shake my head, confused.
But in this moment, it hits me.
And right then, a spiraling wave of guilt moves through my entire body.
I had promised a dinner date at our favorite restaurant in town, tonight.
I had promised her that on Independence Day.
I clearly remember it.
And we were both looking forward to it.
Despite it being off-season, we have both been busy with all the Stanley Cup parties, and were in need of a pleasant date.
I sit down beside her, and bury my head in my hands.
I look up and over to her, staring right into the eyes that make me feel so seduced, so joyful on the inside.
They are firm and stale tonight.
I shake my head.
"Abigail... I'm so... I'm so sorry..." I start, unsure of how to word this.
I've fucked up.
Big time.
"Sorry? Patrick, you were out all evening, and I didn't even get a call. Not a single text. Nothing." She says, eyebrows furrowed.
I gape, and a wave of guilt spirals within me.
"Darling, I honestly forgot, it just didn't even cross my mind..." I explain.
She looks away, and then looks down at her hands.
"Patrick, you have forgotten a lot of things," She says.
"How many more will you forget? How many more can you forget?" She asks, returning her gaze to me.
"Why didn't you text me or call me and remind me? I would have come home right away, and we could have gone out for our date." I say, biting my lip.
"I did. Check your phone." She says, looking away in the other direction.
Reluctantly, I pull my phone out of my pocket, and press the home button of the black iPhone to check my messages.
I sigh, when I see that there are two missed calls, two voicemails, and three text messages all left from Abby.
I shake my head, unsure of what to say.
"What if you aren't out with your friends all the time, and you're actually out with other girls? I've seen the way they all look at you Pat, you can get whoever you want." She says, her face growing weak.
My eyes widen.
My blue eyes that Abigail always describes as sapphires.
"Good God Abigail, NEVER. Do you understand me? I am never going to cheat on you, and I never have. I'm in love with you, my eyes are only on you, I love you." I say, tears brimming in my eyes.
They burn my eyes, but I refuse to blink.
She crosses her arms once again and looks down.
The rain is so loud now, as it rolls down the floor to ceiling windows at the back of the apartment, one drop at a time.
There is a long silence.
The only noise is the slight sound of background voices coming from the TV, rain, and the occasional thunder.
"Abigail, you know this love is ours, and I swear to God that I-" I start, but am cut off.
Abigail stands up off the couch, and looks down at me, tears streaming down her face suddenly.
The tears fall hard, just as the rain outside.
"IS IT PATRICK!? IS IT!?" She cries, her tears large and heavy.
I looks up at her, my eyes wide and worried.
I can't even speak.
"Or is it yours!?" She cries, her eyes full of fear.
I gape, and no words come out of my mouth.
"Am I just something that you like having in your life, just because it makes you seem like a decent guy to be dating a girl that isn't some model or some super hot celebrity!? Am I just here to benefit your reputation, simply to make you seem like a generally good guy!?" She hollers, both her hands on her head now.
I stand up suddenly, and this time, I look down at her.
Anger boils over within me.
"WHAT THE FUCK ABBY!? WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU THINK THAT!?" I scream, thrashing at an empty glass sitting on the coffee table in front of me.
It hits the wall and shatters into a million pieces.
Right on cue, lightning strikes, highlighting the worry, anger, and sadness in both of our faces.
"PATRICK I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO THINK! I don't even know what I'm doing here, or how I ended up with such a beautiful guy like you, I just don't fucking know ANYTHING. I get so confused with my own emotions and right now I feel so overwhelmed, I just don't know how to say or do anything. You flood my thoughts in waves, and lately I've been drowning. I guess with all the Stanley Cup parties, and all the pretty girls that have been at all of them, I've been over-thinking, letting everything slip through my mind, pretending it doesn't bother me," She cries, her tears heavy.
"PAT, I DON'T KNOW ANYTHING, I'M TRAPPED IN MY OWN THOUGHTS!" Abigail shrieks, walking over to the large windows now.
I gape at her emotions, unable to read them or understand them.
What is with her random breakdown? What is happening?
The normally vivid, twinkling night skyline that is always there are blurry blobs of light, made unclear by the rain.
I walk over to her.
"Abby, we can't figure this out unless you tell me what's wrong. You know that Taylor Swift song that you're always listening to? All Too Well?" I ask, shaking my head and sniffling.
She nods, a tear running down her cheek.
"Are those lyrics directly applying to this relationship right now? Did we get lost in translation? Am I asking for too much? Is this thing still a masterpiece or have we both torn it all up!?" I yell, bringing my fist down hard on the wall.
Thunder booms, expressing my anger.
Abby sniffles, and breathes hard, the tears not stopping.
She shakes her head, a wave of sadness falling over her.
Abigail is growing weak.
"Patrick, I don't know." She shakes her head, her voice unrecognizable as it is so small and weak.
I feel a hot, warm tear roll down my cheek.
Her silhouette is gorgeous in the window, blurry specks of light just beyond where she is standing.
Even in times like this, I'm still so in love with her.
I take a deep breath, closing my eyes.
"Abigail, you know how hard it has been this past year and a half to feel happy. When I'm able to feel happiness, I never think about anything else, because it can be rare. Tonight, while I was out with the guys, I felt happy. And that is why our dinner date slipped my mind," I explain.
She shakes her head, rubbing a tear from her cheek.
"Darling, you lived that year with me, you felt my pain and you feel my sorrow, my regret, my... emotions." I continue, my vision growing blurry from the tears.
I blink, allowing my vision to clear, but tears to roll down my cheeks.
Abigail turns around, face wrinkled and eyes red from crying.
More lightning.
More thunder.
Louder, this time.
"Patrick, I know, we all lost someone so significant, and I know when you are happy, I have to learn to-" Abigail starts, but I cut her off.
The wave of calmness I just possessed that was able to control me, is gone.
I take a step back.
"YOU THINK YOU LOST SOMEONE SIGNIFICANT!?" I scream, pointing a finger at her.
Abigail's eyes grow wide, and then more tears hit.
"Christ, I lost my best friend, the only person I truly spent my childhood with, the one person I shared priceless memories with!" I holler, tears rolling down my cheeks, at this point.
"Abigail, goddamn, do you not remember that it was MY idea that night, to go out? The night that it all happened, it was MY idea to go out to the bar. IT WAS MY FUCKING IDEA." I scream, my throat dry and eyes burning.
I wipe them from my face, struggling to stay strong, to not look weak in front of this girl.
Because I support her, and I know that.
If I lose it, she does too.
Abigail is unable to speak.
"Abigail, I can't fucking think about anything else more than half the time, and yes, I know, a year and a half later, it shouldn't still cross my mind this much, but it just won't stop coming back. And Jonathan! He's dating that new girl, Natalie or whatever the hell her name is! I know she's a sweet girl, but every goddamn time I see them together, a part of me dies. Jonathan will never love anyone the way he loved Ally, and I can't bear seeing him with anyone else. Christ, my nightmares are endless, my visions are terrible... I'm scared of my own mind." I admit, my hands trembling.
"Patrick..." Abigail starts, as she slowly makes her way over to me.
"No. No. I can't let you see me this way, I'm too in love with you, GOD DAMMIT." I scream, looking to my left, over at the picture frames placed on the small table next to me.
I don't even know what I'm saying anymore.
Lightning strikes, almost placing a spotlight on the photographs my eyes are staring through.
The pictures of Ally and I, all lined up together.
At the Blackhawks family skate, as children, at graduation... Everywhere.
The memories are endless.
The relationship is priceless.
I collapse to my knees, grabbing the frame of Ally and I from the Hawks open skate as I go down.
Sobs rack my body, and I have never cried this hard before.
Never in my life.
I gawk, making inhuman breathing noises as I hold the frame in my trembling hands.
I hold it close to my body, huddling around over it, the tears falling down my face violently.
Abigail seems as if she doesn't know how to react, because she has never seen anyone in this state of horror.
Never has she ever seen anyone holler and cry so loud, the noises I am making made up of pure emotion, the powerfulness of it all too much for a single human to bear.
Abigail runs over to me, and collapses to her knees.
She too, begins crying in a similar manner.
She struggles to breathe as she wraps her arms around my body, hugging me close.
My normally sturdy body is shaking, and she hangs on tightly, tears rolling down her cheeks and onto my shirt.
"PATRICK, I'M SORRY. I'M SO SORRY DARLING." She cries, between tears.
I know I am the one person Abigail is certain she loves unconditionally, and the one person she relies on like no other.
I am her rock; I hold her up, and hold her hand when she's trembling.
Seeing anyone in this state of desperate emotion is life-changing, yet alone the one boy that makes her feel whole.
I don't know what I'm feeling, but all I know is that it hurts.
I huddle over the picture, crying even harder, as Abigail hugs me tightly.
They say one should let go of the past, and learn to move on.
But, I can't.
I can't because I love the girl too much that I was forced to watch die on the pavement, two years ago.
I can't, because my past still haunts me.