My Wife And Me-Having Fun.

Not as spartan as Steve's bedroom, but still. Utilitarian furniture accumulated in bits and pieces through my college years. The scatter of books and papers and a few houseplants. My prized hockey possession—the autographed Joe Sakic jersey from the 2001 Stanley Cup Championship Season hanging framed on the wall. I wondered what Red Wings memorabilia Steve had tucked away.My eyes fell on the pictures on top of the bookcase. Vickie and me on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. Sandy, in full hockey gear, holding the trophy she'd won that year in high school.And Dad.God I missed him.When I was a kid, he'd take us to the park just about every weekend. That turned into ski trips and hikes as we got older, until he was too sick to go. When I was ten, he took us to my first hockey game—the University of Denver versus Minnesota. I was enthralled. Vickie didn't think much of it and shortly it became just me and Dad. Our special time.Afterwards, we'd go to a diner for ice cream or a slice of. "Tommy laughed out loud at my discomfort. "Never smoked one before?" Uh, no, not really." No point in trying to be cool when your face is redder than a third-degree sunburn and you're about to puke."You'll get used to it," he said."Of course," I said, taking a tiny drag on the cigarette and pushing the smoke immediately out from between my lips. "Hoh. Awhooo." I gulped. "That was better." Yeah," he laughed.We finished those two, then talked for a while, then smoked another one each. About 11:00 we saw the cars start to come down the lane. They never drove in together, and they never parked too close to each other, but we were lucky and watched as two of them parked within sight. And the ambient light from the full moon was enough to be able to see.And we watched.The car farther away had two couples in it; a double date, apparently. And they wasted no time in getting to business. The two people in the front seat merged into one larger unit, and the couple in the back seat did the same..
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