by Robin Roseau
* * * *
In the car, Janie said, “Wow.”
“Not what you expected?”
“I can’t believe she took that opportunity to give us the ‘no drugs’ talk.”
“I think she didn’t know what else to say,” I suggested.
“Probably.” Then she began giggling. I glanced over her and smiled.
We made it to Roller World and climbed from the car, Janie’s purple bag with her skates slung over her shoulder. I’d be renting, but Janie was pretty serious about her skating, and she had an awesome pair of skates. She hooked my arm and hugged it to herself, smiling broadly. “Thank you, Lydia.”
“You’re welcome.” I wasn’t entirely sure why she was thanking me, but I decided right there, if we did this a lot, I’d ask for my own skates for Christmas.
We paid our admission, and then Janie waited while I got skates. We found a place to sit, and it took her no time at all to get her skates on. Then she was kneeling in front of me, helping me with mine, and I looked down at the top of her head. When she looked up at me, she smiled. “What are you grinning about?”
“You look good down there.”
“Hey!” she complained, then laughed. “Come on!” She stood and then helped me stand. I was an okay skater, but I wasn’t in her league. Together, holding hands, we made our way to the edge of the rink, watching for a minute. Finally she turned to me. “Ready?”
“Sure.”
We edged over, waited for a break, and then I followed her out under the lights.
For a while, we just skated. We could both skate forwards and backwards, but Janie could also do other things, and she made a point of doing spins in some of the corners, which was really cool to watch.
And then we saw another couple, quite a bit older than us, and they were actually dancing as they skated. We went by them a few times, but then as we were going to catch up, I slowed down, skating behind them, watching. Janie watched me, but then I gestured, and she turned to watch the other couple. She grinned at me. “Pretty cool.”
“Can you do that?” I asked.
“Yeah. Can you?”
“I don’t know.”
“Come here.” Still skating backwards, she gestured. I closed the distance, holding my hands out, and we clasped. “We’re going to slow down a little. Let me lead us.”
“Sure.”
We skated that way, just once around, and I realized she was timing her steps to match mine. Then she said, “Glide for a sec,” and once I did, she moved closer, sliding a hand to my hip, and we found ourselves in ballroom position, more or less. My eyes widened. “We’re going to turn,” she said. “You’re going to skate backwards, ready, go.”
I did my turn myself, and somehow, we stayed together. We stayed together! That was pretty awesome. “All right. Step with me. This side first.” She squeezed my hand.
For a while, we just skated that way, me going backwards, Janie watching out for people behind me and telling me when it was time to begin turning. We didn’t skate quickly, but we skated together, and I couldn’t stop smiling at her.
Then she said, “Listen to the music.” And so we still skated slowly, but we timed our steps with the music, not every note, but I thought maybe it was every other note.
Then it was time for a break, and we headed from the rink to get some food.
* * * *
We got better, a little at a time. We did turns together, and then we did a few other dance steps, very simple steps, but it was fun, it was a lot of fun.
And then she giggled. “People are watching us.”
“They are not!”
“They are,” she said. “But don’t worry about that.”
* * * *
We made it home on time. Mom and Dad were in bed, but their light was on. I made sure they knew we were home, and Janie texted her mom.
We made it to my bedroom, pulling the door closed. Janie hopped on my bed, then slithered back until she was leaning against the wall, adjusting the pillows. I leaned against the door, watching her. “Movie?” She prompted.
“Sure.”
We cuddled together, Janie’s head on my shoulder for part of it, and then her head in my lap. I stroked her hair, and then I realized I was watching her, not the movie. But that was okay. She had her eyes closed.
I leaned down and kissed her head. “Falling asleep?”
“No. Just really, really happy.”
“Me, too,” I admitted.
“We were good tonight,” she said.
“It was all you.”
“It was us, together,” she said. She tipped her head and opened her eyes, looking up at me. “Did you have fun?”
“Maybe the best night of my life.”
She smiled broadly. “Does that mean you want to do it again?”
“Oh, yeah,” I said.
She nodded. “Good.” She tipped her head back, closing her eyes. Then she reached out and closed my laptop, shutting down the movie.
We didn’t talk for a while. I continued to stroke her hair. She kind of hugged my leg. My thoughts were a jumble. I tried a few times to pull them together, but I couldn’t.
Eventually Janie said, her voice a whisper, “I’ve thought about this a long time.”
“Your head in my lap?”
“Yeah,” she said.
“Seriously?”
“Yeah,” she repeated. “Almost exactly like this.”
“Almost exactly?” She giggled. I joined her. “In your thoughts, are we wearing less clothing?”
“We’re not naked,” she replied. “Yeah.” The last word came out a little sheepishly.
I thought about it, then, somewhat tentatively, I said, “You’re in charge of that part of our relationship.”
She hugged a little more tightly for a moment. “Next time,” she whispered. She turned her head. “Did you just offer what I think you offered?”
“To let you pull some clothing from both of us?” I prompted. “Yes.”
“I will,” she said. “Next time.”
“Next time,” I agreed. But I looked down at her, entirely overwhelmed.
I wasn’t sure, but I began to wonder if this was what love felt like.
Aunt Mabel
My Great Aunt Mabel paid my airfare to visit her in Green Valley, Arizona. Aunt Mabel was a snowbird. For those not in the know, like some of my friends, a snowbird is a retiree who flies south to their winter roosts in Arizona, Florida, and other warm, sunny destinations. As best I could tell, most snowbirds settled down to a single destination, many of them owning second homes, one in the north, away from the worst of the Arizona summers, and one in the south, away from a northern winter. Aunt Mabel hadn’t settled down yet and liked to pick a different location each winter.
This was the first time I’d visited her when she was away, and the first time I’d flown alone. That part was… exciting, I guess, but scary, too. My flight was to Tucson, but I had to change planes in Denver. Dad told me four times what to do and would have told me a fifth when he and Mom dropped me off at the airport, but Mom told him, “She’s a smart girl, and it’s not rocket science, John. Lydia, please double-check the contents in your carry-on. Make sure you have everything you need in case your luggage is lost, and then don’t set your backpack down for anything.”
“Mom,” I said. “I have everything.”
She turned around and gave me The Look, so I opened the backpack, moved a few things aside, and then held it open so she could see my second grimoire, the one Aunt Mabel had made for me. She nodded. “Wallet.” I held it up then shoved it back in the bag. “No. Let’s see your photo ID. Take it out. And flash your credit card.” I sighed but did as she said. “All right. With your ID and credit card, if you forgot anything else, you can still get by.”
“Right,” I said. And then I pulled my phone out and waved it at her.
“Oh, your spare phone.”
“What are you talking about?”
“
Well, as much as you talk to Janie, I presume you had one surgically installed.”
“Mom!” I said, carefully enunciating all five syllables.
“Call us once you’re safely on your plane in Denver,” Dad ordered.
“I will. You can stop worrying.”
“Worrying is our job,” Mom said. With that, we climbed from the car. Dad grabbed my rolling suitcase from the back. Mom pulled me into a hug. “I’m proud of you,” she whispered. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
Dad got his hug, and then he pointed to curbside check-in for my bag. The friendly policeman started giving them the eye, so they both hugged me again, and then I watched them get into the car and drive away. I gave the cop a friendly wave for scaring them off. She laughed and looked for the next loitering vehicle to move out of the loading zone.
* * * *
Great Aunt Mabel collected me from the airport in Tucson. She hugged me, which was a little bit of a surprise, but I went with it. While we waited for my bag to arrive, we sat, talking easily about nothing important.
It was probably the longest conversation I’d ever had with her.
Finally, my bag arrived. I left her on the chairs to collect it, then we turned towards the parking area. She led me to a small SUV, opening the back. I tossed the big bag inside and turned to the passenger seat, but Aunt Mabel was in the way. “You have your license?”
“Yes.” She held the keys to me. “Really?” I asked. “I don’t know where we’re going.”
“It’s starting to get dark,” she said. “Do you mind?”
“No, Aunt Mabel. I’m happy to drive. Mom gave me money and told me to take you to dinner.”
“You can take me tomorrow,” she replied. She gestured to my backpack. “I want to get that home.”
“Right,” I replied. “I understand.”
I helped her to the door, but she pushed me off. “I’m not feeble. I just don’t like driving at night.”
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“Get in the other side.” She climbed up easily and was already buckled by the time I made it in on the driver side. I adjusted everything and started the car. “Lydia?” I turned to her. “You don’t control the airline schedule. I could have driven, but as I don’t have to, then I’d rather not.”
“Of course,” I replied. “Do I just follow the signs to the exit?”
“Yes.”
It was actually a little intimidating. Airports are busy places, and so many of the drivers are impatient. Others are driving in an unfamiliar place, like I was. It was a bad combination. But I calmed down once we got further away from the airport, and the freeway wasn’t too bad.
“Is this your first time in Arizona?” she asked.
“Yes. I was expecting it to be hotter.”
“Average highs aren’t quite 70,” she explained, “but it can get into the 80s. It used to be that they might get a little bit of snow, maybe a trace, maybe two inches, every few years, but global warming seems to have something to say about that. Are you upset being away from your parents over Christmas?”
“A little, but it’s okay. We celebrated early, and Mom gave me a couple of presents to open Christmas morning. One of them is for you.”
“And your girl? How does she feel?”
“You know about her?”
“I know everything.”
I didn’t comment on that. “I told her the official story, the same thing we told Dad,” I explained. Being away from Janie would be the hardest part of this trip. Mom told me we’d be stronger for being apart, but I thought that was hogwash.
I already missed her.
But Aunt Mabel seemed satisfied with that answer.
* * * *
Aunt Mabel was renting a one-bedroom condominium. I was going to sleep on the sofa. She actually apologized for that, but I told her, “It’s fine.”
“I want to be clear. I don’t like messes.”
“I’ll contain my spread,” I promised.
She nodded. “I bet you’re hungry. I did a stew in the slow cooker.”
“It smells really good.”
“Put your things there,” she said, gesturing to a corner of her living room. “Then wash up.”
I did as she said, then wandered briefly. When I returned to the little dinette area, I asked, “Where do you…” I looked around conspiratorially, not sure if I should ask more.
“Where do I what?”
“Brew.”
“Ah. Sit.” She gestured to the place at the table that would be mine for the week I was here. “I have iced tea and water.”
“I can get it.”
“Sit,” she repeated. “Which?”
“Water, please.”
It was just another minute before we faced each other across the table. She gave a small thanks and then picked up her fork.
“This was supposed to be a two-bedroom condo. I’m not happy.”
“What happened?” I speared a potato.
“Each unit is individually owned, although there is a management company that rents them out. Apparently, the unit I tried to rent was taken out of the schedule, and there wasn’t another to let me have.”
“Ouch. I hope you’re not paying full price.”
“I’m paying full price for a one-bedroom unit, but I won’t be back next year. I’d have left entirely.” The way she said it, I thought there was more to the story.
“Why didn’t you?” She looked away. I straightened in my chair. “You don’t have to tell me.”
“I feel foolish.” She looked back. “I let the girl flirt me into staying.” I couldn’t help it. I laughed. Aunt Mabel narrowed her eyes and waved a finger, but then she added, “The little vixen. She’s… Well, she’s older than you, but she could be my granddaughter. Please don’t tell your mother or Jackie. I’d never hear the end of it.”
“Is that true, Aunt Mabel?”
“What? That I let someone bat her eyes at me, or that your mother would tease me?”
“The latter.”
“Are you afraid of me, Lydia? Don’t you dare lie to me.”
I was considering just that. I paused and then admitted, speaking carefully. “I wouldn’t say afraid. I’d say intimidated.”
She paused. “Do you remember your grandmother?”
“A little. She smelled good.”
“She liked to bake,” Mabel said. “She loved you so much.” She worked on her own stew for a minute, ripping a piece off her roll and dabbing it in some of the gravy. That looked really good, so I did the same thing. “I don’t have an ounce of maternal instinct. I’m really quite poor with young children. You have no idea how relieved I was when… Juliet’s magic came to me.”
She paused again. “I was a shitty aunt, and when Juliet died, I should have… been a better surrogate grandmother for you.”
I didn’t say anything at first. She worked on her stew. I ate a little absentmindedly but then finally said, “I think you’re being hard on yourself. I think I turned out okay.”
She looked up. “But you’re afraid of me.”
“Intimidated. It’s not the same thing. But no one had to twist my arm to get me to come visit. I’ve been looking forward to it.”
“Have you, in spite of being away from your girl?”
I shrugged. “I don’t like that part.” I paused. “Would Mom and Aunt Jackie really tease you?”
“Probably not,” she admitted. “But I feel foolish. I haven’t been taken in by a pretty smile in decades.”
“Aunt Mabel, did you just come out to me?”
“Let’s just put it this way: I made sure I wasn’t going to be the one to lose her magic.”
“So, seen her since?”
“Does your mother know you’re a brat?”
“Yes.”
“I see her all the time, and I have learned she flirts with just about everybody. Everyone thinks she’s a darling.”
“Is she?”
“
Yes.” I laughed. “For a conniving, eyelash-batting vixen,” Aunt Mabel added. I laughed again. “Earlier you asked about brewing.”
“I did,” I admitted.
“I haven’t been doing much here, but we’ll probably have to eat out a few meals.”
“Are the two related?”
“Yes. You’ll be brewing.”
“I will?”
“I have exactly one spell to teach you, and it’s no small spell. Yes, you’ll be brewing. You won’t have it perfect by the time you leave, but Jacqueline will be able to help you. You and I will begin tomorrow.”
* * * *
I handled the cleanup. Aunt Mabel invited me to a game of cribbage, and we used the time to talk. She asked all the questions adults ask teenagers while she beat me at the game, twice. And then she declared it was time for bed. She laid out bedding for me, ensured I would be fine, and then disappeared into the bedroom.
To Janie: I miss you.
Fifteen seconds later, I had an incoming Facetime request. I answered, and as soon as we could see each other, she said, “I miss you, too. How is Arizona?”
“Warm, and my aunt is a card shark.”
Janie laughed. “Did she take all your money.”
“We weren’t playing for money.” I stared at my girlfriend for a minute and then said, “It’s important I’m here, but I wish I could be with you at the same time.”
We talked for about an hour. I kept the volume down and hoped Aunt Mabel couldn’t hear us. When we finally clicked off, I stared at the phone for a while before deciding to assemble my makeshift bed.
* * * *
Mabel got up at least twice through the night. It may have been more than that, but twice she woke me when she went to the bathroom. I lay quietly, then rolled over once I heard her bedroom door close again. Morning arrived early, but when I heard Aunt Mabel, and I saw there was light coming in the window, I sat up and then stared straight ahead for a while.
I was still there ten minutes later, staring at the wall, when Aunt Mabel asked, “Do you drink coffee?”
I was slow, but I turned to look at her. “Cream or milk?” I asked, not awake enough for full sentences.
She nodded with a little grunt, and a minute later, she pressed a steaming mug into my hands. “Thank you.”