She said it was unprofessional.
She’s right. She’s right and I know it. But that doesn’t help even slightly.
I pull on my jacket and go find something to do with the rest of my Saturday.
ELIDA
Jake arrives at seven on the dot. He’s in a dark green jacket and looks exactly as easy-going as I remember, which is what I need.
“You found it okay?” I say, which is a redundant question because he’s standing at my door.
“Small town,” he’s smiling. “Everything’s very findable.”
We walk because the place he has in mind is along the water. The night is cold but clear. The stars are bright overhead. A Minnesota winter night is beautiful if you’re dressed for it.
He’s easy to walk with. He fills the silence when it needs filling and leaves it alone when it doesn’t, which is a skill more people should have.
He tells me about Northern State - the program and the coaching challenges. I tell him about the women’s program, about what it feels like to coach a team that’s almost brand new.
“You love it,” he says. Not a question.
“The women’s program. Yes.”
“And you’re doing skating sessions for the guys too, right?”
“It’s more complicated,” I say, which is the most honest and least specific answer I have.
He nods like that’s enough and doesn’t push, and I add it to the list of things I appreciate about Jake Skelly.
We round the corner onto the main street and he gestures ahead.
“This is the place I thought you’d like.”
I look up. We’re outside Tierney’s.
Jake is watching me. “Is this one okay?”
“Yeah. I know it. It’s nice.”
He holds the door and I go in.
The bar is busy - a proper Saturday crowd, louder and less familiar.
I don’t see him.
Good.
Jake finds us a table near the window, flags down someone for drinks, and I take off my coat and settle in.
“So,” Jake says, leaning forward with his elbows on the table and an expression of genuine interest. “Tell me about Sweden.”
He means it. There’s no agenda in the way he asked.
“What do you want to know?”
“What was it like?”
I mean to tell him something easy - the skating and competitions - but somehow what comes out is more real than that. Growing up in Stockholm and what it felt like to be six years old and step onto the ice for the first time. How I understood immediately that this was my place - my thing.
