He takes out a travel toothbrush and toothpaste from a small kit and brushes while I apply my makeup, but even after he’s done, he sits on the closed toilet and watches me. I don’t do a whole face, skipping over the heavy eyes and lipstick, and stick with an easy cat-eye liner and sheer lip gloss, before I braid my hair into pigtails.
“Cute,” Nico says with a grin once I’m finished and top it all off with my black beanie.
But he stops me when I move to put on one of my baggy sweatshirts, his hand on my arm. “Do you wear it because you like it or because you’re hiding?”
I blink a few times, struggling to answer. I’m not sure why. It’s so ingrained in me to cover up; I never think to wear anything else. I don’t think I would like anything else.
He steps back, nodding as if in understanding, even though I didn’t answer. “Whatever makes you comfortable.”
Then without another word, I put on the sweatshirt and grab my bags while he packs up his duffel.
It’s not until we’re in his car that he turns to me seriously and says, “I’m gonna need you to send me photos or video evidence of you doing your usual morning stretch routine, so I can make sure you’re staying on top of it.”
I nod along. “For my health.”
“Exactly.” He winks and turns the engine over. “My top priority.”
We separate at the arena so he can change into his skates in the locker room, and I meet up with Sean, receiving my instructions for the day. Skate Away is a program the Iron developed to build community and make hockey more inclusive. The team sponsors children from low-income households who want to learn how to skate. Hockey is an expensive sport to play, and while I don’t think many of these kids even follow hockey, it at least gives them an opportunity to experience something new or different.
I hang out with the team’s social media managers as the kids begin to filter in, sitting in the first couple of rows, right behind the Iron’s bench, and since all the adults have signed waivers, I snap a few photos of their children smiling when the music starts playing. Coach Elliot skates out on the ice, as well as a few of the players, including Nico, and I capture him mid-wave,mouth open wide, as if he’s shocked the kids are there and cheering.
Once everyone is accounted for, the program’s director talks a bit to them then introduces the team’s mascot, Iron Will, who basically looks like a bigger and bulkier Tin Man fromTheWizard of Oz. The kids go nuts, and I snap a few pictures of them swamping him.
Then promptly turn my lens on Nico as he shouts about how he doesn’t understand how “that hunk of junk” is more popular than he is, playfully rolling his eyes and challenging Will to a fight.
The kids love it, all hooting and hollering, cheering on the fight, and that’s when the music turns on, and Iron Will hops the boards, inviting Nico to a dance-off. Will hands off the Iron Hammer to one lucky child to hold then goes right into a version of the robot. Nico hits back with some disco moves, and Will moonwalks on the ice. Nico tries but fails and ends up waving all the kids onto the ice.
The music stays on, but the lights lower, and it turns into a party.
For two hours, I snap pictures of these kids having the time of their lives as professional hockey players race them, help them up when they fall, and even shoot around a bit with the ones who want to try picking up a stick. Multiple times, I had to force myself to stop taking pictures of Nico, but it’s difficult when he’s so photogenic, and this little girl in all pink and purple loved him. He spent most of the time holding hands with her, even when he was talking with other kids. She was his little shadow, and only a true coldhearted person wouldn’t fall to pieces at the way he hunched down to be at her level when she spoke to him.
After the final hug was given and merchandise signed, I handed the SD cards over to Sean and packed up, meeting Nico by the tunnel, which was fast becoming our usual spot.
“You like Korean?” he asks on the way to the parking deck.
“Never tried it.”
“You wanna?”
The way he opens the door to his car and saysYou wanna?with the Cheshire cat quirk to his lips makes me think he’s inviting me down the rabbit hole to Wonderland. And I am nothing if not curious.
So I drop into the passenger seat. “Yes, please.”
He chucks my chin then closes the door to round to his side, and this pattern is becoming so easy. Too easy.
How many times has he done all of this before? Escorted me to his car and tossed me a smile before backing out of the spot then resting his hand on my leg once he’s pulled out into traffic? I can’t even count how often he’s squeezed my knee and asked me questions at a red light, as if he knows it’s his chance because I can’t get away from him in the middle of the street.
But this time, it’s me who asks him, “Did you have fun today?”
“Yeah, I did.”
“Looked like it. The kids loved you.”
He lifts a shoulder likewho wouldn’t, right?
Makes me wonder, though… “Do you ever…”
When I trail off, he flicks his eyes to me. “Do I ever what?”
