I step out onto the ice and wave, and the deafening din gets louder.Jesus, this is way more of a reaction than I was expecting.I take a turn around the rink, waving, meeting eyes, skating slowly—this is my community, and I've never been prouder.Of myself, yes, sure—I did work my ass off for those two-and-a-half minutes.But really, I'm just proud of how this community shows up.I guess I'd never realized or considered that the community's memory is that long.I figured they'd have forgotten my long-forgotten dreams; I’m just the lady who gives skating lessons.But they remember that I was once more than that, and they're happy to see me reclaim some fractional portion of that.
I don't need to have skated in the Olympics, I realize; that ship sailed decades ago.But this feels just as good, maybe even better.
Trotting off the ice, I crouch and gather my girls around me, meeting each pair of anxious eyes in turn."This is just for fun, okay?I want you to go out there and give 'em your best show!Big smiles!Finish your moves, just like we practice.Big arms and long legs, right?You girls know this choreography, so just keep it in your mind and let your body do the rest.I'll be right here, so if you lose your place, just find me.Ready?On three—one, two, three—WHEELS UP!"
"Wheels up!"A dozen shrill voices shout back at me.
I herd them onto the ice one by one and then stand in the doorway, hands on the hip-high half-wall, watching as my girls take their positions.The soft strains of Bach's “Unaccompanied Cello Suite Number One” fill the arena, and the girls flow into motion, some wobbly, some steady.On the ice at the doorway, I go through the movements while standing in place, indicating arm and leg positions; more than once, I see a panicked set of eyes lock onto mine, and I guide the lost skater, movement by movement, until she finds her place again.Overall, it's a nearly spotless performance by my Juniors.I praise them and dole out high-fives, fist bumps, and hugs according to each girl’s preference as they exit the ice, and then it’s pep talk time for the All-Stars, my teenage skaters.
I stay off the ice and watch for their performance—these girls have all competed, across the state at least, and some of them have been to national competitions.Mal is my best skater by far, but Melissa Kircher can knock out some spectacular turns and leaps when she's on.Melissa's issue is that she's inconsistent—not entirely her fault, though.Her mother is a perfectionist, and her father couldn’t care less about much of anything, and with them divorced, she gets some seriously mixed messaging.
I watch Melissa for a moment as the number begins—a K-Pop song the girls insisted on using.She's on today, thank goodness.She and Mal are the centerpieces of the choreography, and it is immediately apparent that they're on a level beyond the other girls.Which is an important part of the balancing act of the choreography—showcasing their talent without making it the Mal and Mel show.
The number goes off without a hitch, and the girls are filing off the ice to more thunderous applause.And then I lead the whole group of Juniors and All-Stars out onto the ice for bows and a single-file lap around the boards, oldest girls first.
And then it's finally over, and the girls are changing.I make sure each of my girls goes home with flowers, and I give the lone teddy bear to Katja, my youngest skater—only five and a precious child with more bravery than balance, at the moment.
Once the girls are changed and settled with parents—and friends for the older girls—I'm finally free to find my own seat.Mal is with Nicola and Gemma in the unofficial student section behind one of the nets; Alaina has a seat saved for me behind the Fire Department bench.
A bro country song blares from the speakers as Tony, affectionately known as Zamboni Tony, takes the machine around the ice again in preparation for the imminent start of play.He's been operating that machine for as long as anyone can remember, and shows no signs of retiring any time soon, even though he's older than Methuselah.
Zamboni Tony makes his last pass down the center and off the ice, the doors close behind him, and the lights dim and the music fades.Benny, the announcer, starts his spiel, introducing the cops’ starting lineup with his usual vocal panache, growling and drawing out names into roughly forty-seven syllables.As each name is called, the players take the ice and run a partial loop to center ice and then to their box.
"Aaaaaaand last but most certainly not least, you all know him, you all love him…" the area starts to rumble, at this point, "he's your Tomlin Falls most beloved firefighter and everyone'ssecond-favorite hockey player…NOOOOOOOOOO-AHHHHHH Austin!"
Laughing at Benny's joke, Noah strides onto the ice, bareheaded with his helmet dangling from one hand and his stick raised in the other, taking a slightly longer trip around the rink as the crowd showers him with love.
He skates to the FD box and joins the starting lineup in a huddle around Noel, who's giving them a pep talk, followed by a review of their opening play, judging by the gesturing at the handheld whiteboard.
The refs—hired from out of town so as to preclude favoritism—have their own brief huddle, and then the head official indicates it's time to start.The players take their positions around the faceoff circle—Noah versus Abe McLanahan, a six-year PD veteran who played for a farm team in Detroit before relocating here.
The arena goes tense and silent in the moments before puck-drop.There's a quick slash of sticks on ice, and the puck bounces backward between Noah's feet.Sampson, the right winger, knocks it further back into the FD zone as the players scramble for position.Tag, the FD left wing, scoops the puck, dribbles around a defender, passes it back to Sampson, who's immediately checked hard by McLanahan, and the puck wobbles loose as the two players briefly tangle.
Noah zips across the blue line with the puck, Tag sprinting at his heels.The two forwards hold in the neutral zone for a couple of beats, waiting for Sampson to get free and join them before crossing into enemy territory.The PD team's defensemen are there, aggressively battling for the puck as the FD offense tries to move the puck closer to the net.A defender kicks it away from Noah, and the puck skitters behind the net—Duchesne, the PD goalie, whacks the puck high along the boards and out of their zone, and it's a race after it to the opposite end.
The teams, as always, are incredibly evenly matched, and the first period flies by without a score, although both teams put some good shots on net.The cops came closest to scoring, actually, from a bullet of a one-timer by McLanahan; only a lucky ricochet off the crossbar kept it out of the net.
It's hard to watch anyone but Noah.He's everywhere, battling for the puck behind the net, sprinting from zone to zone, intercepting passes, checking opposing forwards before they can get the puck, and winging shots from all angles.Duschesne, the Police Department’s goalie, is a wizard in the net, blocking every shot with apparent ease and diving to prevent the firefighters from capitalizing on loose pucks.
At the end of the first period, it's zero-zero, with the cops having a slight advantage in terms of shots on net.As the players head for the locker rooms between periods, I watch Noah—he's the last to leave the box, slapping each player's helmet as they pass him, giving them a quick word of encouragement.He and Noel head for the locker room together, and I see Noel using hand gestures to explain something to his father, with Noah nodding now and then.
An instant before he vanishes, Noah stops, turns, finds me, and gives me a wink.Absurdly, my stomach gives a little flutter.
Beside me, Alaina gasps, hands flying to her mouth."No!"she hisses, eyes wide."Morgan Wheeler!You're holding out on me!"
"I don't know what you're talking about, Alaina," I say, voice even.
"Noah Austin just winked at you."
"He's very friendly?"
She leans close."I've been your best friend for over twenty years, Morgan.If you don't spill the tearight the fuck now, we're fighting."
I sigh."It's…new.Sort of."
"And?"
I shrug."And what?We don’t have boxes or labels at the moment.We're still figuring things out."
