Thanks to all that helped with the formatting. Hopefully this is a little more readable.
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I had spent months becoming too old and too fat from sitting in the dark eating fast food, feeling sorry for myself after my divorce. I was in a rut and I knew it. A good friend kept suggesting a little exercise was all I needed to clear my head and get things back on track. He reminded me of how much I had enjoyed skating back in College. He was right. I loved skating. I still loved hockey, despite not even a minor league team within 100 miles of the city. But I still slouched back on the couch until he decided to stage a mini-intervention.
He dragged me out of the house one Monday to his gym with the promise of beer afterward. He managed to get me to the gym twice a week for several months until I got tired of the 20 minute drive and signed up at one much closer to the house. In that time I had offered the idea of skating as a substitute for our regular cardio workouts, which he acquiesced as he'd never skated before, I'll give him credit for trying. He even complained of the soreness from the workouts. But skating wasn't his thing.
Regardless, his intervention had worked. I had lost a lot of weight. Junk food made me sick to think about. And I was catching a few eyes I hadn't before. One especially from the rink manager Debra.
There was the casual flirting between people who occasionally meet in a friendly and public setting. One of her jokes always made me groan. She'd tell it over and over again anyway. Her joke was, "You know what they say about guys with large skates? They take so long to lace up the ice melts." Yeah, groaner. I had come to know that we were both divorced. She had two kids. I had a dog. She was surprisingly older than I am. Like I said, casual.
I tell you all this because of something that happened a few weeks ago. I was leaving the rink Wednesday night when I was saying goodnight to Debra. She asked what day I was coming next. I had a kinda back and forth schedule between the gym and the rink still, but I expected I'd be back Friday or Saturday. "OK", she said as we waved goodbye.
The next day I had a long, stressful day at work. I needed to unwind, so I was not going to miss the gym for anything. Excepting as I pulled into the gym parking lot, I noticed all the lights were off. There were no people at the equipment or mulling about. But there were a few staff cleaning up. They had taped a note to the door saying they were closed due to a plumbing issue and something about health code. "Well there's always the rink", I said to myself. It would be better than nothing.
I pulled into the rink lot ten minutes later, noting the open spaces. It wasn't a league night, so no minivans full of screaming twelve year olds, hockey moms, or could-have-been NHL All Stars. At worst some some figure skaters getting in some extra practice.
I park and walked through the front door and was halfway down the entrance hall when Debra rounded the corner and saw me. Her expression had twisted from a strange grin to one of horror. She took off running towards me yelling, "You can't be here. Why are you here?" in a sincere, panicked voice. We closed the gap between us, but soon enough for me to notice why she was concerned.
In the place of tri-colored jerseys clad with armor, numbers, and names were a few dozen people scattered about the rink. A few dozen naked people, all skating, spinning, and trying not to fall bare-assed on the ice.
"Debra!", was all I managed. My expression must have said it all. She grabbed my free arm to pull me back down the entrance hallway. Near the door, I pulled back and demanded an explanation.
"I'll explain later. You can't be here right now. I'll get in trouble."
I was about to ask what kind of trouble the manager could get into when a couple appeared at the entrance. Debra quickly went out, pushing the door behind her. I could hear her explaining that the rink was closed for a private event and for them to please come back another time. With that and the free passes I know she keeps on hand, they were gone. She slid back in the door, throwing the lock with a reminder to herself to turn off the open sign.
"Debra, what kind of private event is this? Who are all these people?"
She began to speak when an older man wearing skates and a robe rounded the corner. "Debra, is this a friend of yours?", he asked.
She was panicked. She was turning pale and red at the same time from the situation. I'm sure the cold wasn't helping either. I put my arm around her to help steady her nerves. "Yes, we know each other." I replied for her.
"Ah, then it's in your best interest to be as discreet as we expect her to be?"
I hesitated while I weighed the situation.