He smiled. ‘I promise. What else is on there?’
I thought about it. ‘Learning to surf.’
‘I’d pay to see that. What else?’
‘Dance at a rooftop rave all night and watch the sun come up. Learn how to sew. Learn how to change a tire. There’re a lot of things.’
‘What’s number one on the list?’
I squinted at a tree on the other side of the pond. ‘Uh, I can’t remember.’
‘I don’t believe you.’
‘Fine. Northern Lights. I’ve always wanted to see those.’
‘You know we can see them sometimes from here?’
‘You’re kidding.’
‘No. Maybe not as bright or impressive as from other places, but you can see them.’
There was no sound apart from the swish of our blades on the ice. The air cold in our lungs, little puffs of steam punctuating the air as we breathed out. It reminded me of winters in Chicago growing up. Hanging out at the ice rink with my sister and our friends. We’d buy cans of Coke and request the songs we liked from the DJ, then try and skate in a line, pretending we were in a music video. I tried to remember the last time we’d been, but couldn’t. We’d started going to parties at friends’ houses instead.Drinking cheap drinks to get drunk and making out with boys. The innocence of youth, gone.
‘I want to see them in Norway,’ I blurted out. ‘I don’t know why, I’ve just always wanted to go there. And Lapland. I want to spend a Christmas there. See Santa’s village. Feed the reindeer. Sleep in a glass igloo underneath the stars and the Northern Lights. I want to tour the Christmas markets across Europe. Go on a sleigh ride. Sing carols at midnight on Christmas Eve. I know it sounds silly.’
He’d caught up to me, skating close to my left shoulder. He looked at me with surprise. ‘Why would that sound silly?’
‘That’s what Nick said, when I told him. Said it was silly and immature. That Lapland is for kids. Families. He said I should want to go somewhere like Paris, or Rome. Tour art galleries and take wine tours. Grown-up stuff.’
‘The more I hear about this guy, the bigger the jerk I think he is,’ he replied curtly. ‘I mean what kind of man is he? Dismissing your dreams like that? Someone he was supposed to love?’
‘It doesn’t matter.’
He reached for my hand and perfectly executed a sliding stop, so abruptly that I fell against him, my hand on his chest.
‘Itdoesmatter,’ he insisted. ‘No one should tell you that your dreams are silly. You should never let anyone make you feel that way.’ His eyes ran over my face, his jaw twitching. ‘You don’t deserve that. No one does.’
I got the feeling he wasn’t just talking about me and Nick any more. I reached up a hand and touched his cheek, flushed from the cold.
‘I won’t,’ I promised him.
The tension left his jaw as he smiled. ‘Good.’
‘Can you say the same?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You know what I mean, Jonah.’
He sighed, and I felt it reverberate through his chest. ‘It’s different.’
‘How?’
‘She’s my mother.’
‘So, what, that gives her the right to tell you how to live your life?’
He frowned. ‘Of course not.’
