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Part XXII - Torment on Wheels.
I hate rental skates.
I loathe them.
I'm not fooled for one second by that spray disinfectant and deodorant they use. I'm not just wearing someone else's shoes, I'm wearing 712 someone else's shoes. And they are made of the absolute toughest leather allowable by law. I want to find the guy that puts knots in the laces, too, just so I can see what a sociopath looks like.
Did I mention that I didn't even like roller skating very much? At least at the time I didn't. I took up in-line skating a few years later, and it's *the* bomb, but I definitely felt an ominious portent that this evening's activities would be *a* bomb.
On the plus side, I looked around and verified that we were definitely the only ones present in the 14-34 age bracket. My horrible secret was safe. All that remained was to go in circles for an hour or so until she was tired and wanted to go, then I would be free.
Or so I thought. What ensued was a non-stop battle of wills and wiles. She was intent on holding hands as much as possible, and not one, not two, but THREE times she went up to the DJ to specifically request another slow song, in addition to the standard mix. And that moron must have misinterpreted my head-shaking and glares as the go-ahead to play back-to-back Whitney Houston, Mariah Carey, Celine Dion, and Tim McGraw. Curse him, cowering behind his protective plexiglass. If I thought I could put my skate through both his podium shield and his face, I would have. Maybe I could at least cut myself badly and end up in the hospital.
But to be honest, I was not entirely opposed to holding hands, as long as it was her left hand. For over an hour I tried and tried to filch my ring off her finger. I think she caught on after half an hour or so, because she would always approach my on my left side, or would hold my hand tight enough that I couldn't maneuver my fingers.
Rats.
And I was getting blisters. Did I mention I hate rental skates?
9:00pm.
"So, you about ready to head out?"
"No, we've still got 30 minutes of free skate left, silly!"
Cue Aaron Neville and Linda Ronstadt. Oh the pain...
Then, just when I thought things couldn't get worse, I realized what happaned AFTER open-skate time finished.
Hockey leagues.
They began to come in and get their equipment on, joking and jocking about, punching each other (to warm up their knuckles for the real fights, no doubt) and shouting about the weeks various exploits to their friends.
And looking at me.
I kept a discreet eye on them as I went through the list of my friends and enemies for any known roller-hockey enthusiasts. Fortunately, I was on the other side of town, and what's more, I didn't go to any of the local high schools (this will be important later on, too).
But that didn't mean the arrival of the hockey players didn't affect me. Directly, no. Indirectly, yes. As soon as Emily saw them, she immediately began trying to exploit one of the greatest of human weaknesses. Jealousy. Perhaps in her mind, if she convinced the hockey players that she was MY girl, they would be coaxed into COVETING another man's possession!
She tightened her grip and got EXTRA close. 9:30 wasn't coming soon enough...
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It's alright, I'm sure the rewrite will be better...