The power of the beanie possesses me and I extend my arms out for a hug. Just like how the old Mason and Violet wouldgreet each other. He responds as such, scooping me into his arms as he rests his cheek on my head.
“Hey.” I can hear the smile.
“Hi.” I’m sure he can hear mine as well. “Sorry, I was on the phone with my mom.” We break apart, and he steps back to allow me to the close the door.
“‘S’all good. How’s Elaine doing?”
“She’s fine. Meddlesome as always. It is her, not me, that is insanely out of their mind curious about what we are doing tonight.”
His face breaks out into a smile as we walk away from my building. “I’m finally teaching you how to ice skate.”
The Boston Common is one of my favorite places in December. In addition to the annual Christmas Tree lighting that attracts all the locals, the normal trees in the park are also decorated with festive string lights. Even in below-freezing temperature, everything about this place felt cozy. Growing up, I would always beg my mom to bring me into the Common so I could pretend I was the main character in my own Christmas movie, but there was always one part of the park I was too scared to go. During the summer, the Frog Pond was the perfect place for little kids to splash around and cool off, but during the winter was when it came to life. With the pond frozen over, everyone from kids to grandparents brought out their ice skates and flooded into the small outdoor rink. I was always too scared to go. Too scared of getting hurt. The Hayeses would bring me, and I would watch Mason and Monroe skate around for hours. Never moving from the bench. Mason always swore he’d get me out there.
“I can’t believe I’m finally doing this.” I'm unbelievably nervous about falling, busting my tailbone, and spending my days sitting on a donut, but I’m also excited. I’m buzzing with energy as we stand in line at the skate rental booth. Masonbrought his own obviously. A gust of wind blows through, and while my energy is keeping me warm, the wind cuts down to my bones, causing me to wince and I rub my gloved hands up and down my arms. Perhaps it was time for a new winter coat…
Mason wraps an arm around my waist and tucks me into his side, his warmth surrounding me. “You’re gonna love it. It’s always such a rush every time I get on the ice.”
“How many times do you think I’m going to fall on my ass?”
With my head pressed against him, I can feel his chest vibrate as he laughs. “Honestly, it’s a rite of passage. I still eat shit sometimes too.”
“Okay I’ll ignore the obvious joke about the pro hockey player who can’t skate and jump to…that seems dangerous considering your history. Should you be doing this?”
“I’ll be fine. My doctors cleared me for skating a while ago. It’s just the contact aspect of hockey, ya know, the fact that pucks and 200-pound men are flying around the ice, that made them nervous.”
“But falling on your ass on a hard surface rattles your brain too. I would know; I tried rollerblading once.”
“I’ll hold on to you the whole time if you want.”
“Says the guy who just admitted to eating shit sometimes. But sure, at least you’ll break my fall when we both go down.”
“Making sure you’re comfortable is my top priority.” He winks, and I feel it in my frozen bones.
After we collect my skates, we head to the bench to put them on. Unsurprisingly, Mason has both of them laced and ready to go before I can even take off one of my boots. He kneels to start helping, and I hear the petulant child in me start an argument about how I can do it myself. Before I can open my mouth, he grabs my foot and lightly squeezes, almost as if reassuring me that it is okay to accept his help. I continue to watch as he slides on the skate and adjusts it into place, tugging on the laces and tying them nice and snug. He repeats the same actions with my other skate, and by the time we’re both set to go my thirdsweater no longer feels necessary. Was that some sort of hockey player foreplay I just discovered? Or am I so touch-deprived that even a small gesture like helping me get my shoes on feels intimate?
He stands up and extends a hand to me, which I gladly take to hoist myself up. I walk— well, really waddle— over to the rink clutching his hand. Mason takes the first step onto the ice and my legs refuse to move. “You coming, Vi?”
I nod my head but can’t make my feet move an inch. So much for not letting my fears get in the way of trying new things.
Mason steps back over the border and puts his hand out to me. “Hey it’s okay to be scared, but I promise I won’t let you get hurt. Do you trust me?”
That is usually what parents say to their kids before they let go of the back of the bicycle. And the kid falls anyway. I will probably fall too. But Mason will be there to catch me, and that’s enough to get me to take his hand and step over the border.
“Yes. Let’s do this.”
thirty
. . .
Violet
I looklike Bambi on ice the first thirty minutes, but Mason stays with me the whole time. I keep insisting he leave me behind and go do some twirls or whatever he likes to do out here, but he insists he’s having fun right where he is. I eventually manage to glide on the ice without feeling like I’m going to tip over face first, and the next thing I know we’re doing laps around the pond. Very slow, very small laps but still. Childhood Violet is rejoicing. I look to my right and see Mason beaming.
“You’re doing great, Vi.”
“This is so fun! I can’t believe I’m doing this.” I loosen my grip on Mason’s hand and pick up some speed. “Do you think I could try skating on my own?” I’m not entirely sure where this burst of confidence came from, but I wasn’t going to question it.
“Absolutely.” He gives my hand a final squeeze before letting go. I stumble a little but manage to stay upright.
