“If you two are meant to be, I just don’t want you to lose time like I did with Grey. Like what are the chances he gets traded to the team that hosts their preseason right in your backyard? I think it’s a sign. So give him a chance?” she asked quietly. “I just really have this good feeling about you two.”
I sighed, thinking she was slightly crazy about the whole thing, but I didn’t want to offend her. “How about I let you know how this weekgoes?”
She let out a happy noise then and we said our goodbyes.
I quickly scanned my kitchen cupboard for a protein bar- my breakfast to-go- and made my way to the rink.
_____
As soon as I walked into Pine Ridge Ice Arena, Keith, the old rink manager, waved me down.
I quickened my pace to his little office across the lobby. He was an old man of few words, so I was surprised he was calling me over to talk.
“What’s up?” I asked, slightly out ofbreath.
He was scanning his clipboard and rubbing his gray, bearded jaw ever so slightly.
“Well, we’ve got some open ice before a figure skating session if you want it?” he asked, still eyeing the clipboard.
I could feel adrenaline kicking in over the prospect of getting ice all tomyself.
“When?”
“Wednesday and Thursday, first thing in the morning,” he said with an affirmative nod in my direction. “Wantit?”
“Thank you, Keith,” I gushed and started walking away before he could take it back. “For real!” I called over my shoulder as I made my way toward the east rink.
“Remember this next time I need an extra instructor for a birthday party!” he yelled, to which I shot him a thumbs up.
No one ever wanted to help with birthday parties because you never knew what kind of talent, or lack thereof, that you’d be instructing. Sometimes you could find a diamond in the rough- a small, fearless kid who zoomed around the ice, loving it- and you could try to approach the parents and talk them into signing their kid up for lessons after the party. Other times, you could get taken out- like legitimately slide-tackled on accident- by a wobbly child on skates that were way too big for them.
I’d risk birthday party coaching for some private ice though, especially because it was hard to come by this week.
I pushed open the door leading to the east side rink and breathed in the cold air.
The rink’s main lights were still shut off, but the ice glowed under the small emergency light that was always on; it gave the ice an even more peaceful vibe. When I first moved up here, I experienced a lot of homesickness, but the rink helped cure it. All rinks automatically felt like home to me. The ice was where I belonged; it was my place. Maybe the cold air had something to do with it, but I was always able to think clearer here. At times when all else went wrong in life and I didn’t even recognize myself, I could always still skate. No one could take the long hours of hard work that I put into this sport away from me.
I walked alongside the boards until I reached a keypad locked door opposite the ice- the coach’s room- and then quickly inputted the code to let myself in.
The coach’s room wasn’t anything special, but it was cozy, with wooden benches and old pictures hung up in disarray around the 10-by-10-foot room.
I only came in here when I knew I wouldn’t have company. In order to avoid drama, I didn’t tend to socialize much in the rink except with my students.
I tied up my skates- my right one first- one of my only superstitions, and then ripped open a new package of hand warmers that I brought with me today.
As a skater, I never felt the cold. I’d dress in layers and then shed them as I powered through practice, and by the end, I’d always end up in a tank top leotard and leggings. I did not have the same experience as a coach. I basically turned into a popsicle by the end of each full-out coaching day.
I shoved the hand warmers into my designated coaching mittens and pushed open the heavy door to reveal the now fully lit, smooth surface. My body hummed with excitement over the prospect of stepping out onto the ice, just like it had ever since I was a little kid.
I spotted my teeny, six-year-old student wearing a skating dress and tights with her hair smoothed into French braids pushing open the rink doors and waving excitedly at me.
“Hi Annie!” I said as I started moving toward the rink door. We were the first two out here today. I’m sure the older girls were busy gossiping in the locker rooms- they had a lot to talk about this week with the hockey guys all around and what not. I internally rolled my eyes but knew I shouldn’t be too hard on them- I was like that once upon a time too.
I used one hand to push down the lever on the board’s door and the other to pull it open.
“Ready for more axels?” I ushered Annie onto the ice in front of me. “I think you’re gonna land one today, I can feel it!” Axels were always a difficult hurdle for young skaters, because at 1.5 rotations in the air, it was the bridge from learning single rotation jumps to moving onto doubles.
“Me too!” she smiled sweetly and stepped onto the ice.
