Butterfly Wings
Our father, who art in heaven…
Light streamed in through the stained glass windows of the chapel, creating patterns of colors across the stone floor. If Adam tilted his head slightly, the patterns would shift, spin, and meld into each other, forming a maelstrom of starbursts. But really, he should be concentrating. He had a task to perform later.
Adam turned back to the gilded cross hanging above him and bowed his head, praying for strength, praying for guidance. If he failed this task, all would be lost. He would not fail.
“Adam? It’s time.”
He looked up from his prayer into the eyes of Joe Sakic. Nodding once, he got up off his knees and followed Joe towards the chapel door. As they walked, Adam noticed that the colored light beneath his feet seemed to writhe, as though it were alive. It was like walking through a field of flowers, or of clouds, or of dreams.
…hallowed be Thy name…
They reached the chapel door, and Joe paused to give Adam a grave look. “Once I open this door, there is no going back.”
“I understand,” Adam replied. Then he went on hesitatingly, “But…I am afraid.”
“Of what?” Joe smiled benevolently, like a priest might.
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”
“You will know when you must know,” Joe said cryptically. “Are you ready?”
“I don’t…”
But Joe’s hand was already on the door handle, pulling the gate open. Adam had to hold up his hands to shield his eyes from the bright light that came pouring in.
Thy kingdom come…
The crowd roared its approval as the puck hit the back of the net. They were his legions, his worshippers, a sea of burgundy ready to see him into battle. Adam smiled, raising his stick to acknowledge their cheers.
Chelios skated by, sneering. “It won’t be so easy next time. Are you ready?”
Adam grinned, wiping sweat from his brow. “Ready to score on your ass? Of course.”
Chelios rolled his eyes, heading for the face off at center ice. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it. Now get out of my way.”
“Then what did you mean?” Adam frowned, trying to ignore the nagging feeling that there was something else he had to be doing. He was here, on the ice, scoring goals…what else was there? It was important, he knew that much, but what was it? “Wait…”
Too late, the puck was about to be dropped, and the ref was yelling for him to get back onto the bench. Adam sighed in frustration and skated to the bench, climbed over the boards.
Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.
“Coach, I have to…”
“No time, Footer. You ready?”
Adam blinked. He had to be ready. He had to complete his task. Only…“I don’t think…”
“Are you ready?” Peter asked, blue eyes glinting wickedly as he smiled a toothy smile. What do I have to do?
“Are you ready?” Dan asked, beaming brightly. I know I have to do this.
“Are you ready?” Rob asked, smiling stupidly and punching him playfully on the shoulder. What do I have to do?
Adam was starting to panic. He stood up, threw his stick down, and snapped, “I don’t know! What do I have to be ready to do?”
“You will know when you must know.”
Adam looked to the ice sharply, to where the voice had come from. It was Steve Yzerman. The Red Wings captain gazed at him calmly, his eyes the center of the storm.
“Just be ready to do it.”
Give us this day our daily bread…
Adam blinked again, and the winged wheel on Yzerman’s uniform looked like it was moving, but that couldn’t be. It was an illusion, a trick of the mind, a play of lights. But Adam could have sworn he saw the wing take leave of its stitching and flutter just once.
“Why aren’t you ready yet?”
“What?”
…and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us…
“Adam, come on, we’re going to be late.”
Adam nodded, grabbing his bag and following Patrick into the tunnel that would take them to the players’ parking lot. The further he walked, however, the harder it got to move. It was as though some invisible force, some unnatural wind was pushing him back. Adam squinted his eyes against the moving air, looking for Patrick, who didn’t seem to sense any problem. Patrick just kept walking, until he was so far ahead, all Adam could see was a faint outline of his body.
“Patty? Wait…”
Why was it so hard to walk? Adam dropped his bag and bent into the wind, trying hard to keep up. He had to do this, he had to stay…it was his duty. It was what was demanded of him. But he didn’t want to…
“Patty!”
But Patrick was out of sight, swallowed into the wall of butterflies that closed off the end of the tunnel. Adam froze, staring at the insects in horror. So…many…and each pair of tiny wings, beating so furiously, trying to get somewhere but not really going anywhere, millions and millions of butterflies of all colors. Patrick was somewhere beyond them, Adam knew this. But try as he might, Adam could not find the strength to walk against the wind the butterflies created.
“Patty, don’t leave me behind.”
“It’s your time, Adam. Are you ready?”
“Not yet!”
…and lead us not into temptation; but deliver us from evil.
“Patrick.”
~~
“Patrick?”
Adam could see the dark shadow that was Patrick twitch in surprise, making his bed shake. He sat up in his own bed, rubbing at his bare arms, trying to make the feeling of déjà vu go away. Patrick was here, he was a solid entity, he wasn’t going anywhere…
“Adam, what is it?” Patrick said quickly. “Did I wake you?”
“No…” Adam replied, his voice thick with sleep. “I had a bad dream.”
“What about?” Patrick said, sounding alarmed. Then, almost rushing, “I had a bad dream, too.”
Adam hesitated. “What was your dream about?”
“Armies,” Patrick said. “A big battle was going to take place, and there was a… a choice. What was yours about?”
Adam paused before answering. It was about you, I’m sure of it. It was you leaving me behind, but Patrick I’m not ready, not ready by a long shot…whatever it is I have to do can wait, can’t it? I’m not ready to do it yet. So please, please…say you’re not ready either.
“Nothing so fun.”