INTO THE VOID

CHAPTER 8: THE ICE RINK

The day began like any other. Xaviere was awake; awoken by his alarm clock. He started his workout routine. It was more elaborate and he was being more intentional this time. It was not just push-ups; he did sit- ups and Russian twists too where he would sit on the floor, knees bent and feet planted on the floor while he moved his Human Anatomy Atlas from the left side of his body to the left. He even used the pull up bar Logan fixed in the room; a metal rod inserted in between the doorway to the bathroom. He would grab this bar firmly with both his hands and pull his whole body weight upwards. Xaviere’s routine included thirty of those every morning just before his morning jog. Logan began to tag along a few weeks back.

As the semester progressed, the football competitions where becoming more hectic. So much so that he laid back Logan had to put in a lot more actual effort. If he was ever going to get drafted into some big league, he needed to get noticed. This means running faster, catching quicker, throwing farther; all of these things his natural physique alone could not suffice for. So every morning or on the mornings he could rather, he took the opportunity of Xaviere’s accurate alarm clock and joined his roommate in the workout routines.

After the morning jog, Xaviere and Logan walked back to the dorm. Logan was exhausted, sweat dripping down his face. He was breathing hard; it was visible in foggy appearance of Canadian mornings. It was a cold morning. Logan walked slowly with his hands on his waist. Xaviere on the other hand was pumped. He was paces ahead doing jumping jacks and all. He was on some sort of “Adrenaline High”. He was restless and awfully chatty. At first it was a marvel to Logan how outspoken he was during the exercises but this morning, he was pretty annoying.

“Logan my man, I really love this jogs, don’t you?” Xaviere asked indulgingly.

“Yeah, yeah; they are pretty alright.” Logan said.

“Brotherman, I love it. You feel the wind in your hair, the breeze on your face, the cold air being sucked into your nostrils; bruv it’s a mad experience.”

“Yeah, I know.” Logan said. He wondered whether Xaviere had forgotten that he also jogged that morning.

Xaviere ran up the stairs quickly; skipping two steps at each stride. Logan simply walked up. Xaviere took his clothes off and went straight into the bathroom. He looked into the mirror as he always did. He was proud at the sight he saw. Xaviere was getting much better. Although he did not do a lot of heavy lifting, the calisthenics he did were building up his arms; his biceps and triceps more defined than before. He put his hands on his waist like a footballer about to take a free-kick and then he flexed his abdominals. He could see clearly the tendinous intersections and even the linea semi-lunaris; progress.

Xaviere was all dressed up now; well combed hair and two extra sprays of his perfume. It was Thursday; that meant Psychology and that went Petrichor. Was that the reason why he was so pumped? He wondered. Yes, yes in fact it was. She was the reason he paid more attention to his workout routine. He got really into it when she told him she liked buff guys. He went all out, watching YouTube videos on exercise. She was the reason he got hair oil because she like his afro so much. She was the reason he brushed his teeth with extra caution that morning; Petrichor was the reason for a lot of changes in Xaviere’s life. A kind of fuel, a kind of drive; she made his getting of bed worth it.

“Well, I am glad that’s over.”

“What?” Xaviere exclaimed. “I thought the class was very interesting.”

“You just say that because you’re the only one who answered questions in that class. You and Professor Muller could pass for old classmates or even worse; lovers.” Petrichor said with a smirk on her face.

“C’mon, what do you take me for?” Xaviere said spreading his arms defensively. “Even if I was into men, I can do better than a grey-bearded, low budget imitation of Merlin.” Petrichor burst out laughing.

“He does have the whole old, wizardry vibe.” Petrichor said. “Who teaches psychology from ancient textbooks? With Philosophy, yes that’s understandable. You know, reference thinkers of antiquity but with psychology come on; the world’s most volatile social science. The study of human thinking; something that evolves with every heartbeat, to teach it with old textbooks… maybe he is a wizard.” Petrichor said with a shrug of her shoulder. At this time, they had packed up their things and were heading out of the class.

“That’s pretty harsh. The man only referenced Elizabeth Kubler Ross’ work on the stages of grief. That kind of research is pretty immortal. All humans experience it. People have and will experience it. You can’t teach without references. All he does is just compare and contrasts; he pitches the new developments we have against works of old. We cannot really move forward if we don’t know where we are coming from.” Xaviere said.

“Of course you’d support him.” Petrichor said.

“Well we better head to the library and get started on the assignment.”

“Whoa, are you serious right now?” Petrichor asked. She stopped and turned her head to look at Xaviere with her arms folded. “Dude, you already finished this semester’s coursework. You know these things. Xaviere take a break off for once; it wouldn’t kill you.” Petrichor said. Xaviere adjusted his glasses using the index finger of his right hand to push them up his nose. “Let’s do something fun for once. I’ve got ice dancing rehearsals today. I know you couldn’t make it for my tryouts but at least follow me to the ice rink for once.” Petrichor said holding Xaviere by the arm with both her hands doing what he calls The Puppy-dog Eyes.

“Alright, I guess I can come just this one time.” Xaviere said after a brief sigh his eyes fixed to the floor like the tiles suddenly had inscriptions only he could see.

“Thanks a lot.” Petrichor said after placing a peck left on his left cheek. She pulled back her head for a moment and looked upwards into his eyes. Xaviere was taken aback. They have had bodily contact before; handshakes, causal shoulder punches, hugs and a lot more random touches but nothing suggesting amorous affection. Honestly, Xaviere thought he had blown it with her. They were study buddies for Psychology; a term most people will associate with the friend zone. He had not mustered the courage to tell her how he really felt but suggested they studied Psychology together as an excuse to spend more time with her; a reason to look in her brown eyes, to be cascaded in her perfume, to feel the texture of her skin. It was the only excuse he had to hang out with her; a sorry excuse but it was excuse.

The seats in the ice rink were barely occupied. There were not a lot of people in there; just a few Hockey players, the ice dancers and spectators who were probably friends of the former or weirdos with nothing better to do than watch people they did not know skate around.

As Xaviere and Petrichor walked into the door, he could literally feel his anxiety kick in. the walk to the rink was hell for him. With every step he took, his pulse rate increased as the thought of being amongst the watching eyes of complete strangers kept clouding his mind. He could hear Petrichor talk about the dance routine and how much better the rinks in the school were compared to the public ones she had to use in the winters in New York. He could hear her but he was far from listening, the sounds of his own thoughts too loud to allow him comprehend the stimulants of his auditory apparatus.

“Xaviere, what’s wrong?” Petrichor suddenly asked.

“You think something’s wrong? Nothing is wrong I'm totally alright, not freaking out or anything I'm totally fine. Why would you think something’s wrong?” Xaviere said after his erratic blurting. Petrichor stopped and grabbed his face in both her hands and then said, “I know you Xaviere. I’ve been around you long enough to know when you’re nervous. Plus you’re sweating a lot and its ten degrees out today.” Petrichor said with a smile. Xaviere reached for his handkerchief and wiped his face.

“Hey, if it makes you feel better I will hold your hand.” Petrichor then said. “Come” she added after a brief pause that seemed to be her seeking permission. She grabbed his left hand in her right and then slowly pushed open the door in an attempt to be quiet but the creaking sound that the big door made betrayed them. In an instance the eyes of the hockey players were fixed on them. They were all hurled up talking listening to the coach talking about game tactics. At the glaring eyes, Petrichor briskly walked to the dressing room her hands clasped in Xaviere’s sweaty, shaky palm.

As they entered into the dressing room, Petrichor burst out laughing. Xaviere just looked astonished. She had pulled him into the female locker room. Luckily no one was in there.

“You’re crazy, you know that?” Xaviere said breathing heavily and then joined her in the laughter.

“Welcome to my humble abode.” She said taking of the layering of clothing she had on. She undressed to her underwear before turning around to open the locker that was resting on the wall. She took out her skates and wore her leggings. Xaviere just sat there as he watched her walk around with so little clothes on. This was a first for him. She asked him to help unhook her bra with her did with ease but then as she turned around, just as he caught a glimpse of her unclad bust; n*****s erect from the cold, the doors were barged open.

“Oh.” A girl with a bag-pack said. She was not exactly shocked or even if she was, she was particularly skilled in not showing it.

“I will be in the stands.” Xaviere said; his British accent heavy as he enunciated the words. He adjusted his glasses as he hurriedly walked out of the room.

“That was great, you were phenomenal out there.” Xaviere said.

“Really, it felt pretty basic to me.” Petrichor replied.

“Are you kidding? With all the twirls and jumps, that was really great.”

“I know, I know; I'm kinda a boss on the ice.” Petrichor said holding the edges of her skirt as she did a little courtesy.

“That was amazing; you are amazing.” Xaviere said looking more serious this time. There was a brief silence and they both maintained I contact. He tilted his head a little as he moved it forwards to hers; she did the same. Their eyes closed and they were in such close proximity with each other that he could feel her breath on his skin. All of a sudden, there was a sound of shattering glass. It startled Petrichor and quickly opened her eyes. Xaviere was on the floor, bleeding from the nose, his glasses broken a few steps besides him. He just got hit in the face with a puck.