On Thin Ice 1

by Victoria Villeneuve

  It was selfish, but a part of me wanted her to stay. I knew I had gone through the same withdrawal symptoms as she had. I had lost all the weight, I had the insomnia, I also went through depression, fatigue, anxiety and tremors. In the first week after I had completely given up the alcohol, I stayed in bed for days without getting out at all. I wanted to curl up and die.

  I knew I looked better too. I had put back on all of the weight that I had lost, so I now looked like a normal sized young woman again rather than the almost-anorexic look I had before, my brain was no longer foggy, I sometimes experienced a good night’s sleep, although nightmares frequently interrupted that, and my anxiety and tremors were gone completely. From a physical point of view, I was healed. But the reason why I stayed, the reason why I had to stay, was that mentally I wasn’t even close to being able to face the real world. I didn’t know if I would relapse if I had to go back out there. It was easy to think that I would be fine, that I would go to AA meetings and live my life, but I also knew my problems were deeper than the alcohol, and those deeper problems were nowhere near being resolved. That was mostly my fault though, I didn’t want to resolve them.

  I had actually come to accept my reality. I was probably going to stay here forever, or at least until my parents got tired of paying for it. I knew they’d never stop though, I knew they would spend every last dime they had if it meant the possibility of their only daughter being ‘fixed’, as they put it.

  Unfortunately I knew that I would never heal. Nothing could change what I had done, nothing would ever change it. That night in June, just over a year ago now, changed my life completely. I should have died, and quite frankly I wish I did. My life was pointless now, an empty shell waiting for enough ticks of the clock to pass before my body gave away at last and let me die.

  Sometimes I wished I had the courage to take my own life. It would be so much easier, just to slip away from this earth and leave all of the feelings of guilt behind. But I could never bring myself to do it. Something always stopped me. No matter how depressed I got, no matter how much I wished I had died that night, no matter how much I convinced myself that my life was pointless, I could never bring myself to end it. I had to live with this pain, this guilt, this punishment and advancing my death was taking the easy way out.

  I went back to my room and lay down on my bed. My room was basically the only part of this building that I actually liked. It wasn’t white and steril, it was homely and it was mine. The walls were painted a pale blue, the Queen size bed in the middle of the room with its brown wooden headboard had a lovely navy blue comforter. The antique style cabinet in the corner which held my clothes also held a few photos that were dear to me. Against the far wall was a small desk with my laptop and a few books. It’s funny, when I was in pre-med and then medical school I was always surrounded by books, most of them so heavy to lug around that it was easier to do my workouts at home rather than in the gym. Yet now I only had a single copy of Gray’s Anatomy and a couple Agatha Christie novels on my shelf. A round rug in the center of the floor finished the room, which was simple but elegant. Just the way I liked it.

  I stared at the ceiling as I thought about my reaction to Daniel. Was this another withdrawal symptom, one that I hadn’t experienced? It had been a long time since I had any alcohol, a bit over three months I suppose. Doctor Emma told me that most of the physical symptoms would be gone by now, though everybody was different and there was a possibility that I would be susceptible to more physical symptoms in the future.

  What if it wasn’t a withdrawal symptom? What if it was just my body dealing with the physical attraction to another human being of the opposite sex? God, even thinking those words reminded me of medical school. That was such a clinical way of putting the fact that I was ridiculously turned on by Daniel. What was strange about it was I didn’t understand why. I have never reacted like that any man before, and I had serious boyfriends in my life. There weren’t many, of course, but I had fantasized about marrying two of them one day, which was my own personal litmus test as to whether or not I considered a relationship serious.

  My thoughts were suddenly interrupted by knock the door. I rolled my eyes as I got out of bed, figuring it must be Doctor Emma. I hope she’s not coming in here to congratulate me on talking in today’s therapy session. I opened the door and found myself looking at Amanda.

  “Hey, what are you doing here?” I asked. Amanda was nice and all, but we never really spoke and she certainly had never come to my room before.

  “I was in the lounge and found Fiona and Sam playing Monopoly, and Fiona mentioned that you wanted to know about Daniel’s history. You know, the new guy.”

  “Oh yeah, I did,” I replied, trying to sound as casual as possible.

  “Kevin told me who he was. You know how Kevin loves hockey? Well, turns out Daniel is actually Daniel Ross, the captain of the Seattle Sea Lions hockey team.”

  “Shit, really?”

  Amanda nodded. “Yeah, I looked it up on the Internet after Kevin told me. It’s all definitely true, it’s him.”

  “That’s pretty cool, I didn’t think he was the lawyer type we usually get around here.”

  “Yeah. Anyway, I gotta get back.”

  “Of course, no problem. Thanks for the info Amanda.”

  Without knowing why, I immediately moved to my computer and open the lid. My laptop burst into life, and I quickly typed in the password and waited for it to load. I rapped my fingers against the desk with impatience as the old machine creaked and groaned its way into function.

  I finally opened Google, and typed in the name. Daniel Mallard. His Wikipedia entry came up first, and I clicked on it. This was exciting, I had never actually met anybody in my life who had their own Wikipedia page. When I was in high school my friends and I would look people up on Facebook, but that was it.

  I slowly read the words on the page, devouring the clinical biography on the page like it was the most sensational novel I’d ever read. Daniel grew up in Canada, starting to play hockey when he was four years old. He made his way into the junior leagues and was drafted in the first round, making his debut in the NHL that year.

  Four years later he was made captain of his team, making him the youngest captain in the history of the Seattle Sea Lions. He was a goal scorer, having scored 37 in his last season. Then, I got to the section about his injury.

  That was where I stopped reading. A part of my brain complained. It’s written on the internet. It’s public information. You aren’t really snooping or anything, you’re reading Wikipedia. Just scroll down the page and see what happened. Another part of me, however, stopped me. Even though it was public info, even though that sort of thing was on the internet for everyone to see, I wasn’t really part of the public anymore. I was in a rehab center, a place where people are trying to get better. Well, except me. I don’t want to get better, ever. But I can understand that others do, and I know all too well the desire for privacy.

  It wasn’t my place to read about Daniel’s injury like this. Maybe after he left the clinic, I would read about it for myself, and see what had happened to him. But for now, that was his story, and I didn’t want to intrude on his privacy. I closed the window and thought about him. Whatever happened, it must have been incredibly difficult for him, seeing as he ended up addicted to the pills. I felt a pang of pity in my heart for him, an emotion I had never really felt so strongly with anyone else in here, even Fiona.

  Why do you care so much about this? You don’t even know the guy Kylie. I argued with myself for a while, trying to figure why I was so into this guy. Was it just his rugged good looks, and the fact that I hadn’t been with the guy in so long? Was my body trying to make up for it? I went back to my bed and collapsed onto it. This dreaming about Daniel was taking away from my usual habit of guilt and self-loathing, and it scared me.

  * * *

  I didn’t see Daniel again for the next couple of days. After all, I normally hid in my room most of the
time, except for when we did sports, or had group or single therapy, or did arts and crafts.

  Doctor Emma ended up congratulating me on talking when I saw her for our weekly one-on-one therapy session the next day.

  “I’m glad you decided to tell us your story, Kylie. I hope it was the first of many, I hope that you have finally decided to embrace your ability to heal.”

  I gave her a few non-committal answers. I knew I wasn’t going to do that again. I wasn’t going to be speaking every week.

  But three days after Daniel arrived I decided to go to dinner at a reasonable hour, rather than eating either before or after anyone else, as was my usual habit. I sat at my table in the back, alone. Normally when I was here with others Fiona came and sat with me, but she was absent tonight. I wondered to myself if she’d gotten a day pass, a chance to go out with her husband in the real world. She had been looking good enough that I wouldn’t have been surprised if Doctor Emma gave her that chance.

  I picked at my food, not really into the lasagna they were serving, when I felt someone in front of me. I looked and saw Daniel, holding a tray so full of food I was surprised the cheap plastic tray holding his plate didn’t crack in half. Instantly my breath caught in my throat. My senses were completely out of control as adrenaline rushed through my body. Fire coursed through me and my heart began to pound so loudly in my chest I was sure Daniel could hear it as he smiled and asked me if anyone was sitting at the table with me.

  “No... no, it’s empty,” I replied, trying to smile back. I could feel my panties getting wet at just the sight of him. Oh God, what was happening to me?

  “Thanks. It was Kylie, right?” he asked, digging into his enormous plate of lasagna, topped with what looked like an extra chicken breast, a dry salad on the side and a bottle of chocolate milk to wash it all down. Of course, I knew athletes expended an incredible amount of energy and needed a lot of food to make up for it, but to see that plate in front of me was just different. The man looked like he ate in a meal what I ate in a week!

  “Yup, I’m Kylie,” I replied, hoping I sounded like a normal person. “I heard you’re a hockey player, I would have guessed athlete without that info if I saw you eating that,” I continued, motioning at his plate. I don’t know why I was so fixated on it. Maybe I thought that if I looked at his food, those confusing feelings of desire that ran through me every time I looked at his beautiful face would disappear.

  “So the gossip has started already has it? This is actually a pretty small meal for me, now that I can’t work out the way I used to I have to reduce my calorie intake. This feels like a diet.”

  “I wish my diets involved eating that much food,” I joked, and Daniel laughed.

  “Come to the gym in the basement with me tomorrow, I’ll put you through a workout that lets you eat this much.”

  “Are you asking me out?” I asked before I realized what I was saying, then instantly covered my mouth in surprise at my own reaction.

  “Maybe,” he replied with a grin, and my eyes widened as my body tightened. There was no way to get out of it now.

  “Fine. I’ll show up tomorrow and you can make me earn some extra ice cream for dessert.”

  “I can’t wait. I never thought I’d find a pretty girl like you here in rehab. I guess I had a few pre-conceived notions about this place.” As it seemed so prone to do lately, a blush crawled up my face and I looked down at my food. A tingle of embarrassment and happiness crawled through me. I hadn’t felt happiness like this in a long, long time.

  “Even us beautiful people can be broken,” I replied with a small smile, then changed the subject. “Do you ever get burnt out, playing hockey? That is, if I can ask you something like that.”

  Daniel nodded as he shoved a big forkful of salad into his mouth. “Yup. When I think about it, I started playing hockey seriously, considering it to be a career, when I was about twelve years old. Before then it was just a fun thing to do with my friends, but when I was twelve I think I began to realize that if I really took it seriously I could maybe hit the big leagues, and that was when I began to treat it like a job. I’m 29 now, so it’s been seventeen years. For most people, who really start their careers when they’re in their early 20s, seventeen years is almost forty. Prime age for a mid life crisis, and I guess that’s what I’ve hit now, I’ve just done it ten years before most,” he replied with a small, sad smile. As I looked into his eyes, I could see the pain there. I wondered about what had happened to him.

  “Do you know what happened to me?” he asked, curious. “I know it’s all over the internet, I just don’t know if you’ve read about it at all or looked it up, or follow hockey.”

  I shook my head. I figured I’d tell the truth. “I looked you up, I read up until the part that involved your injury, and stopped reading. I figured it’s only fair to you.”

  “Really? I really appreciate that, Kylie. I’m pretty sure you’re the only person here who hasn’t looked it up, four people have come and asked me about it in the last few days.”

  “Well, those four people should have respected your need to heal here just as they have. I don’t like to talk about my past, I figure I have no right to look up other people’s without their permission.”

  “Thanks, Kylie. I find it difficult to talk about as well, so I know exactly what you mean. But hey, it’s dinner time, no need to harp on about our problems. I’m going to bed early tonight, but I’ll meet you in the basement gym at 10 tomorrow morning.”

  “Deal,” I smiled, watching as he got up from his chair, his plate now completely empty. I looked down at my still barely touched meal. What was it about this guy? Why was it that I could feel my nipples, hard and erect, pressing against the fabric of my bra, so hard they were almost painful? Why could I feel that my panties were soaking wet when we’d done no more than talk, and maybe flirt just a tiny bit?

  I asked myself these questions and more as I forced the rest of my food into my mouth and went back to my room. Were they withdrawal symptoms? Was this normal? Why did I feel like I’d been hit by lightning every time I saw Daniel?

  * * *

  The next day I woke up at the crack of dawn as usual, had a shower, and got ready for my “date”. I was sure it wasn’t a real date, just a way to spend the day with someone. It was a weird feeling, I was actually looking forward to it. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d looked forward to anything. It had been so long, I had almost forgotten what it felt like, and I instantly felt guilty. I didn’t deserve to go to the gym and have fun. I regretted that I had agreed to it, but I was still looking forward to it. Not to mention bailing now would have looked rude. Conflicting feelings seemed to be ruling my life these last few days.

  I threw on my shorts and a workout shirt and looked at myself in the mirror in my bathroom. I hadn’t actually checked out my appearance in a long time. I didn’t look too bad, I guess. I still had a pretty good body, my hair was silky smooth, and all of the terrible results alcoholism had ravaged on my body were a thing of the past. No, my outward appearance was fine, it was just my brain that was broken now. In fact, I’d even venture so far as to say I looked good.

  I made my way down to the basement gym. This being one of those expensive rehab centers, it’s kind of like expensive hotels: there’s always a gym, even though you never see anyone in them. The only times I had ever been here was when I first arrived and been shown around, and one day when the trainer for our sports group that met once a week decided we should learn how to use weights and showed us all how to do some exercises one afternoon.

  Sure enough, as usual, there was no one down there except for me. Daniel was nowhere in sight. I was alone in this enormous room. Fluorescent lights shone down upon me, seeing as the room got no natural light. Mirrors lined all four walls of the gym. To my left was a row of dumbbells, going from one pound all the way to 100. The far wall was lined with machines that looked like torture instruments. To my right was the cardio section. There were at least a
dozen treadmills, elliptical machines and spin cycles, which I imagined had never, ever all been used at once. Against the other wall to my right was a section for yoga and other mat-based exercises, with stability balls and agility equipment. Even for me, someone who had rarely ever spent any time in a gym, I could tell this place was very well equipped.

  Suddenly Daniel emerged from the dressing rooms behind a door to my right. He was drenched in sweat, rubbing his wet hair with a towel, and it only made him hotter. I felt my knees going weak, a tug in my nether regions, and I scolded myself to get it together.

  “Hey” he greeted me with a grin. He wore shorts and a tank top that showed off his incredibly muscular body. Daniel was even more ripped than I had originally thought. His biceps bulged as he continued to wipe himself down, his pecs moved slightly, and under the tightness of his shirt I confirmed my original suspicions: there was indeed a six pack underneath.

  “Ready for a big day of training?” he asked enthusiastically, throwing the towel to the side.

  “I guess so...” I stammered, looking around apprehensively. I was only too aware of the fact that despite knowing a fair bit about the human body, I had never really trained mine that well.

  “Don’t worry, the gym’s always intimidating the first few times. That’s totally normal. Luckily for you, there’s no one else here except me, so you don’t need to feel self conscious or anything. In like a week you’ll be strutting around here like you own the place.” I looked up at Daniel. In a week? Did he expect me to do this again? With him? Regardless of what he thought, I appreciated his desire to put me at ease.