“I checked the first time I was over at your place,” I told him. “Because at first I didn’t know if I was looking at a pair of sneakers or sleds designed for toddlers.”
Ben chuckled in response. It was the first time I’d heard the sound today, and it ended far too quickly. I felt like I was back at our first meeting, like I was going to have to do the majority of the work. I wasn’t upset by it; I just couldn’t help but wonder what had changed. Why had he retreated back into his shell? Was it me? Did I do something wrong?
I walked over to the cross-country skis and stepped into mine. I had to rent Ben’s gear in the end, because it turned out I didn’t know anyone as big as him.
He joined me a minute later.
“I saw an elliptical machine in your Basement of Blood, Sweat, and Jump Rope.” I paused for laughter and applause. Again, nothing. “Cross country skiing is a lot like being on one. You lift your foot up, move your leg forward, and sort of glide over the snow.” I demonstrated for him.
“I don’t use that machine that often,” he said.
“Well, then, it’s a lot like regular skiing.”
“Never been.”
Uh-oh. “Ice skating?”
He shook his head.
“Roller blading?”
He held up a hand and began counting off fingers. “Skateboarding, surfing, and snowboarding.”
“Okay. I’ll start with the basics.”
I helped him strap into his skis, handed him his poles, and side-stepped away so I could instruct from a safe distance.
“Wait,” he said. “I told my parents I’d send them a picture.” He pulled off a glove, unzipped his fancy winter coat, pulled out his phone, and handed it over to me.
“Say cheese,” I said, before taking the picture.
I gave the phone back, and he sent the picture off.
“Three, two, one,” Ben said.
At one, the phone rang with a FaceTime call. His parents were hilarious.
He hit accept.
“Hi, Benny!”
“Hi, Mom.”
“Where’s Ella?”
He swiveled the phone to me, and I smiled and waved. “Hi, Klara.Hi, Hani.”
“How’s he doing so far?” his dad asked. “He fall down yet?” He sounded thrilled by the prospect.
I shook my head. “We just started.”
“Ben, hand her the phone so we can watch,” his mother said.
“This is going to be so embarrassing, isn’t it?” Ben asked, doing as she said.
“Horrifically so, if we’re lucky,” I answered.
His parents cackled at that like a pair of hyenas. Their son shook his head and assumed a long-suffering expression. I raised the phone toward him and hit the icon that flipped the screen so they would see him and not up my nose.
