2. An Unwanted Call
2
AN UNWANTED CALL
Gabriel
The annoying buzz of my phone reaches my ear. I wish I could shoo it away like a fly. Why won’t it stop?
"Answer the phone already!" a grumpy voice moans.
It takes me a while to get my bearings. Where the hell am I? Then it all comes back to me.
Yesterday. The Olympic ice hockey final. Our defeat. The silver medal. The disappointment. The joy. A bar. One beer. Too many beers.
Something soft hits me in the head. Damn, what is that?
"Answer ... your … damned … phone!" growls the familiar voice of my friend, temporary roommate, and fellow ice hockey player Konstantin.
"Yes, yes, yes ..." I half curse, half mutter.
I can see 6:22 a.m. on the phone clock between half-closed eyes. Who’s calling me at this time of day? What idiot ...
Before I can answer, my cell phone is snatched away and Konstantin growls, "Asshole," into it.
He’s obviously answered it on my behalf, but I refuse to feel sorry for whoever was on the other end of the line. Even if it’s the Pope, he deserves that kind of response — it's not even seven in the morning, for crying out loud! And everyone knows what I was doing last night ....
Without another word, Konstantin tosses me my phone. I don't even bother to read the caller ID, just press it to my ear.
"This is your requested wake-up call," a nasal voice sing-songs out.
"Asshole!" I repeat the words of my roommate. My sister can be a total dick sometimes.
All I can hear at the other end of the line is gales of laughter. Susan has a sense of humor all her own.
Then she puts on a playfully innocent tone, "Did I wake you?"
Sometimes I really don't know what to do with her. What did I do to deserve such an irritant in my life? Right now, not being born an only child is my deepest regret. My moan must say everything I need to because Susan is laughing heartily again.
"Sounds like you need a vacation, brother dear."
Like that’s the reason for my silence.
"This season isn't over," I grumble.
I’d never admit it, but Susan is right about one thing — I'm ready for a vacation! And right now it’s only the end of February. The season started in mid-September, but because we took a league break for the Olympics, the playoffs don't start until the end of March. With my team playing the way it is, we’ll qualify for the playoffs, no question, and if we make it to the finals the season won't finish until the end of May. That’s my prediction, anyway.
This year, luck was on our side.
Our head coach would kill me if he knew I’d used the word luck. We've been training hard and fighting for every point like maniacs every game. That's the reason we’ve catapulted up the standings and why we have a real chance of winning the championship — luck doesn’t really come into it. Whatever happens, I'll give it my all. Even though this damn season will be the longest I've ever played, I’ll fight to my last breath to get that damn championship trophy in my hands.
"Yes, yes, tell me again about working too much," my sister puffs out.
I groan. It's too early in the morning, and there’s too much alcohol still sloshing through my bloodstream to have this conversation.
"I have an idea!" Susan announces cheerfully.
And I have a bad feeling.
"I'm booking us on a cruise for June."
Okay, it could have been worse.
"What's in it for you?" I hedge.
"That cuts me deep," my sister says indignantly.
"Susan ..." Her name is a threatening rumble in my throat.
"Okay, okay ... you’re paying." My sister states her caveat.
I can live with that. I don't earn as much as my colleagues in the NHL, the National Hockey League in North America, but my salary is still pretty good. I can easily afford a cruise for me and my sister.
"Oh, and one more thing — don't even think about showing up to this cruise with one of your random chicks," Susan adds haughtily. "This time, I'm picking our guests. And I've already found a delightful creature to share your cabin."
That sounds good! I'm single and even though I’d never admit it — least of all to my little sister —choosing girlfriends doesn’t seem to be my strong suit.
"Okay," I manage to mumble before a hearty yawn rips my jaw apart.
"I'll book something then," my sister says in her usual cheerful voice. "I have your credit card number anyway."
Damn! I’d completely forgotten that I had shared that with her so she could take care of birthday presents for our parents. I don’t have much spare time so this seemed like a good solution … at the time.
"No Terengian or Swedish tour operators," I shout quickly into the phone. I must have been a bit loud, because Konstantin turns over with an annoyed grunt and puts his second pillow over his head.
"Don’t worry your poor little head about it!" Susan teases me. "I've already picked a Spanish one."
I breathe a sigh of relief. As much as I love my fans, sometimes all I crave is a bit of peace and quiet. And, since both our home country of Terengia — a small island nation in the North Sea — and Sweden are nations who are nuts about ice hockey, being trapped on a cruise ship with people from either country for weeks would be the opposite.
Spain is a safe bet. What are the chances that a Spaniard not only is into ice hockey, but is so into ice hockey that they’d recognize a Terengian who plays for Sweden? A smile spreads across my tired face. Sometimes, having a sister is good, after all.