"I haven’t spoken to all of my skaters yet, Alaina.I don't know who can and can't or will or won't perform.I have six kids who are a yes so far, but I'm still waiting to hear back from most families, and I have at least eight who won't be able to for one reason or another."
Alaina sighs."I know, I know.I'm sorry.But, look, it doesn't have to be a polished recital or anything.Whoever wants to skate, just have them do a quick thing."
I laugh."Do a quick thing.Alaina, do you know meat all?"
A sigh."I'd like to think I do, Miss Perfectionist.I know your nature is to make it as perfect as possible.I'm not saying just throw something together all half-assed.I'm just saying, the post is out there, and we can't exactly un-post it.It's already being reposted and commented on.The cat's out of the bag, so you're just gonna have to make the best of it.And Morgan?"
"Why do I not like the way you said my name just then?"
"You should skate."
"Um, no."
"Um, yes.You qualified for the freakingOlympics, Morgan."
“More than twenty years ago!"
"And we all remember, honey.We all watched your qualifier.We'd all love to see the great Morgan Wheeler show off a little."
I snort."The great Morgan Wheeler.The only great thing about me is the size of my ass, and I'm using great in the sense of the Great Barrier Reef, as in massive."
"Morgan."
"Alaina."
"You haven't forgotten how to skate."
"Well, no, but I haven't done anything more complicated than a single toe loop in…god, I don't even know how long.I think I tried a double toe loop once when Mal was eleven or twelve and twisted my ankle."
"So practice!You don't need to put together a showstopping short program, girl!Just get out there, do a jump or two and a few spins, and then let the kids take over."
"I'm almost fifty, Alaina."
"And?You're in fantastic shape, your self-deprecating jokes about the size of your butt aside.Just think about it.Please?There are more eyes than ever on the game this year.News crews from Juneau, Fairbanks, and Vancouver are coming."
"Oh, great.So half of Alaska and part of Canada will be watching when I fall on my ass and break my ankle."
"You won't."
"You don't know that."
"Yes, I do.Because when you put your mind to something, you always succeed."
I sigh."I'll think about it."
"In the meantime, change out of your sweats, put on something cute, and come have drinks with the girls."
How well she knows me, I think, looking down at myself: flannel pants, thick wool socks, and a thick, hand-knit wool cardigan over a plain white tee, no bra.
"Fine.Just a couple of drinks," I say.“Meet you there in thirty."
“Bye-eeee!"she sing-songs.
I plug the phone in to charge so I don't run out of battery while I'm out and head up to change.I leave the cardigan and tee on, adding a bra and some jeans—the ones without back pockets that do good things for my backside.Ankle booties and some bangles on my wrists complete the half-hearted attempt at an outfit.I run a brush through my hair and leave it down, and then pop by Mallory's room.
I tap and then peek in.She's belly-down on her bed, headphones on, and textbooks and notebooks spread out in front of her.She has her laptop open and a YouTube video is playing a fast-paced visual assault of short-form content, her iPad propped up showing a complicated chemical formula, and her iPhone is off to the side, playing music—and, presumably, an ongoing barrage of texts and Snaps and DMs from her friends.
My brain hurts just looking at it all—I have never been able to fathom how she can have three screens at once, all doing different things, without getting overwhelmed.
