by Toni Aleo
I rolled my eyes and edged to the slope. Down I went, the wind bitter cold in my face, my eyes watering, and my heart thumping as I picked up speed. I hit the jump way too fast, I knew it as soon as I cleared the snow-covered picnic table, and when I bent my knees to reach for the board, I threw myself off balance. When I hit the ground, the edge of the board dug into the snow instead of the flat bottom, and I went face first into the snow. My chin caught the brunt of the crash, and I bit down on my lower lip. Blood filled my mouth. I started to snicker.
Shaun was bellowing my name, the shouts getting closer. I rolled to my back, nose and eyes packed with snow, lip bleeding, laughing softly.
“Mitch, man, are you okay? Shit, you’re bleeding.” He dropped down beside me, kneeling on my arm then quickly apologizing and sliding his knee off my bicep. “Dude, are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” I brushed at the powder on my lashes and sneezed a time or two as I sat up and freed my boots from the board. “Just busted my lip, it’s good,” I snorted in amusement.
“Shit, you look rough,” he said, his voice losing the panic it had held a minute ago. “Here.” He pulled off a glove, dug around inside his thick coveralls, and pulled out a hankie. Resting on his calves, he pressed the red square of soft cotton to my lip. I winced but continued sniggering at myself. The humor of talking shit and then wiping out so royally amused me to no end. He pulled the hankie away, leaning in to study my lip at close range, his sleek eyebrows knotting then smoothing out. “Okay, it’s just a small gash. Don’t think it needs stitches. The moms will be upset.”
He placed the hankie tenderly to my lip again. I blinked some wetness from my lashes, and met his look, intending to say something about moms and worrying. Instead, I found myself fixated on a perfect little flake of snow landing on a cheek the same color as sunbaked driftwood. The flake rested on his warm flesh for a second and then turned into a small droplet of water. I watched, spellbound, as it ran down over his stubbled jaw.
“Mitch.”
My gaze moved up to meet his. His touch was still gentle on my lip, the cotton held in place with two fingers. I reached up to pull the square aside. All I wanted now was…something. Maybe to have him press his mouth to mine again. There was a smoldering fire igniting in his brown eyes. A low flame that told me that his thoughts and mine were running along the same—
Something plowed into Shaun, knocking him sideways into the snow. I jerked back, the hankie stuck to my weeping lip, to witness Kirk and Shaun pummeling each other as Adam arrived on the four-wheeler and opened fire with premade snowballs. One hit me in the ear, packing snow into it. I snarled a curse, and made a hasty snowball then lobbed it at Adam. It hit him in the face. Things then went downhill rapidly. All four of us ended up slogging back into the house, soaking wet, bruised and bloody, but in high spirits. Mrs. S. gave her sons a lecture, mopped up the snow, and then sent me home with a box of cookies and four new wine glasses with holly or something on the sides.
Shaun walked me to the Subaru, his usually springy hair flat, and his cheek scraped from a snowball that someone had made from gravelly snow.
“I think my mom has wine glasses,” I commented after placing the boxed goblets and cookies gently into the passenger seat.
“Not a clue why she sent them. Maybe they have some sort of hidden message? Like when your dad calls mine, says something about a spark plug, and they both end up over at the golf course.”
“Yeah, maybe,” I chortled then reached out to cup Shaun’s face. A bold move for sure, but it was dark now, and the big pine tree blocked the wall of glass in the living room. “I’m glad we caught up.”
“Me too.” He placed his hand over mine, and it was strong and toasty warm.
“Merry Christmas Eve.”
I pulled my hand away, and his fingers stayed with mine. Hand in hand we stood there smiling at each other.
“Guess I better let you go. Hope Santa brings you everything you wanted.” Shaun let go of my fingers, gave me a killer smile, and ran back inside before he froze solid out here in his t-shirt and jeans.
“I think maybe he already did,” I whispered after he was safely back inside.
The following morning was chaos. I had never seen so many clothes and dolls in my life. There I sat, between four girls under thirteen, with a new pair of Bauer skates on my lap, listening to K pop bands and being asked which perfume smelled better.
“Uhm…the flowery one?”
I got cold glares and a couple flounces as the question-askers went off to find people of the female persuasion to make the call. Allison flopped down next to me, wearing her brand-new Philadelphia Eagles jersey.
“Are you going to Shaun’s?”
“Yeah. I have to give him his gift.”
She sighed, and her bottom lip came out a bit. “Bet you’re going to snowboard at his house more, huh?”
I shook my head. Someone stalked past, complaining about her sister hogging the bathroom all the time.
“Nope, no boarding today.” I tapped my split lip. “Your grandmother forbids any more snowboarding for the duration of my stay.”
“So, you’re off to play something else?”
I glanced around to make sure my mother was still in the kitchen tending to the placement of pineapple slices on the ham.
“Maybe some hockey at the rink if I can get Gus to let us in.”
“Ugh. I so hate it that my skates are home, and Mom said I have to leave you alone for five minutes.”
That made me laugh, and I slipped an arm around her and pulled her into my side for a hug. “I love hanging out with you. Next time we’re here, we’ll play us some big hockey, so make sure you bring your skates.”
She snuggled in for a long time, then her mother told her to come help in the kitchen and leave Uncle Mitch be. Allison frowned, gave me a solid knuckle bump, and slouched off to the packed kitchen.
I made like a rug and beat it as soon as it was humanly possible. Mom made me take a dish of green bean casserole to Shaun’s house.
“I’m not sure why she thought you needed green bean casserole,” I said to Mrs. S as I handed over the small casserole dish.
“Same reason I sent her wine glasses,” she replied with a smile. “Now head on into the living room.”
I jogged off, Shaun’s gift under my arm, rounded the corner from the kitchen, and descended the four stairs into the living room. This room had been tidied up, but athletic gear was still everywhere. The massive live pine tree in front of the wall of glass blinked steadily, the lights tiny and white like a thousand stars.
“Dude, finally, I thought maybe you stood us up,” Shaun yelled from the floor where he sat next to Adam, watching a movie with some major explosions taking place.
“Mitchell Adams, come give me a kiss on the cheek.”
I picked my way through ski poles, new snowboarding boots, video games, and packages of socks to Shaun’s grandmother seated in a small rocker. She called it a “lady chair” but her daughter, Mrs. S., called it ‘Mama’s throne’, which I guess it kind of was. It did have the best view of the TV.
I bent down and pecked her wrinkled cheek. She was weathered and silver-haired and bowed with age, but her brown eyes were sharp like a raptor.
“You look good,” she said, taking my face between her hands, and gazing into me like her grandson did. Her perusal had a different effect than Shaun’s though. “Wiser. Whiskery.”
I blushed a bit. “I’m taking a few days off from shaving.”
She grinned and patted my cheeks. “Work that stubble, honey.” I blushed harder. “Shaun, fetch me the gift I made for Mitchell.”
Grandma let go of my face, so I straightened and watched Shaun get to his feet. He was in jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt that hitched up when he stretched his arms over his head. A strip of belly was exposed. Firm and tight with a line of dark hair leading into the band of his jeans. My stomach flipped over, stirring up the meal I’d just eaten in an uncomfo
rtable way. I nervously played with his gift.
Shaun pattered to the tree, grabbed a soft-looking package and a small box shaped one.
“Here you go, Mitchell.” He gave me a wink as he handed over Grandma’s gift.
“I didn’t get you anything,” I whispered to the matriarch of the clan. She shook her head then gave me a funny look over the top of her bifocals.
“Oh, I think you’ve given me more than you realize.” She waved a hand at the gift. I sat down on the edge of the couch, nudging a drowsy Drew aside, placed my gift for Shaun on an end table, and ripped at the bright green paper. Inside, wrapped carefully in tissue paper, was a quilt. A big one that would easily cover a king-sized bed. I had to stand up and spread my arms to show it off to Shaun and the other guys.
“It’s a star-crossed pattern,” Grandma explained as I sat down and laid the aqua-and-ivory covering filled with quilted stars over my lap. “I worked on that for a year. My eyes and hands don’t work as well as they used to.”
“It’s beautiful, thank you so much.” I was stunned to hear she’d put so much time into it. I knew quilting wasn’t a speed sport, but a year? Man, that was a long time to spend on a gift for some kid who hung out with your grandson.
Shaun dropped down beside me, pushing at his older brother’s long legs. He ran a hand over one of the stars, smiling softly as he did and making my heart feel as funny as my belly. His hand stalled right in the middle of a star, resting on my thigh.
“Now, you two can take it home and put it on your bed and cuddle under it,” Grandma announced with a nod. Drew sat up. Adam and Kirk paused the movie they were watching. Shaun and my mouths fell open.
“Grandma,” Shaun sputtered as his brothers studied us closely. “Mitch and I aren’t romantic. We’re just close friends.”
Her gaze fell to his hand on my thigh.
“You two have always been romantic, you just didn’t know it.”
He jerked his hand away, blushed hotly, and said nothing more. I had no clue what to say so I folded the quilt neatly, wrapped it back up, and then slid down on the sofa and pulled my new toque down over my face. Dying right now would be a blessing.
“Right, well, uh, I’m not embarrassed or anything,” I heard Shaun saying from inside my hat. A smile pulled at my mouth, giving me the strength to peek out at the world. “Here.” Shaun handed me his present. It was wrapped in red and white paper with a big red bow on top.
Ignoring the snickers from the other Sandbeck boys, I sat up, pulled my hat up, and lifted Shaun’s gift from the end table.
“I didn’t know what to get you because…” I faltered simply due to the thousand reasons for not knowing what to buy my childhood friend whipping around my head.
“Yeah, I get that,” Shaun softly said. We exchanged gifts. I sat beside him, intent on his face when he dug into the box filled with crumpled tissue paper. He gently lifted the framed picture out, turned it to face us, and then grinned widely.
“Oh man, I remember that day,” Shaun exclaimed as he stared at the restored 35 mm image of him and me, age eight, standing by the pond at my grandfather’s farm.
We were holding this massive largemouth bass, both of us, our faces sweaty and pink from summer heat and the fight we’d just had to land that big bastard. Shaun, me, and my grandfather, who passed away a year after this had been taken, had been using top-water lures on that sticky July day. Lazily casting out then reeling back, catching a small bass or sunfish here and there when that monster showed up. It hit Shaun’s lure like a shark, coming up out of the scummy water a good foot. Shaking its head to try to dislodge the barbed hooks, it scared all three of us. Shaun and I leaped up, grabbed his pole in unison, and worked in tandem to bring the fish to shore. Grandpa stood beside us, telling us when to ease up and let him take some line and when to reel. It took us over ten minutes to get that fish in. When we had him on the bank, Grandpa ran back to his house to get his old Pentax and snap a picture.
Shaun glanced at me. I kind of knew right then that not only was that the perfect gift, but that he was feeling some powerful emotions like I was.
“Best day ever,” he whispered.
“Best day ever,” I repeated, recalling how we had said that at least a hundred times since that day. Oh, and yes, we did put that big old bass back so that he or she could make baby bass and maybe be caught again. Grandpa was dead, and his farm sold before the next summer, so we never did get to go back and try to catch that fish again. “We should go fishing sometime.”
“I would love that.” He flashed a fast smile and then jerked his chin at his gift resting on my thigh. I tore the wrapping paper free and had a moment of sheer and utter joy.
“Oh. My. God.” I blinked at the Jabberjaw box set like it was a million dollars in gold bars instead of a bunch of DVD’s of an old Hanna-Barbera cartoon. But man, I loved HB cartoons so much! The new cartoons were lame and lacked humor and slapstick in my humble. “JJ is like third on my top ten list.”
“Yeah, I know,” Shaun laughed. Yeah, he did. We’d spent hours and hours watching them as kids, because I had always insisted on Cartoon Network instead of the new shows on Nickelodeon. “Snagglepuss, Atom Ant, Jabberjaw, Quick Draw McGraw,” he said, ticking off a slew of the shows I still watched religiously when on the road or when I needed cheering up.
“This is totally perfect,” I sighed, wishing I could slide one in now and kick back with Shaun. But kicking back wasn’t happening because we were called to dinner then. There was no way I could eat, but I did, forcing a slice of pie down and a cup of coffee. Bursting at the seams was a real concern.
“We still doing the rink?” Shaun asked as daylight slipped away slowly on the mountain.
“I’m not sure I can bend over to lace up my skates,” I admitted, leaning back in my chair at the dining room table to pat my rounded stomach.
“We can lace up each other’s skates,” Shaun said while patting his own belly.
“Would you two do an old woman a favor?” Grandma asked, and we both immediately said we’d love to. “Such good boys,” Grandma beamed over her cup of green tea. “Stop by the shop and carry the Christmas material down into the basement. Then, bring up the Valentine’s Day bolts. Just lay them on the tables by the front window. I’ll sort things tomorrow.”
“We can do that,” Shaun smiled, pushing up from his seat to kiss his mom and grandmother. I was instructed to do the same before we left.
“Your family is big on the PDA’s,” I commented after we settled into my mother’s car with our hockey gear and my priceless collection of Jabberjaw, which was safely lying on the back seat away from skates and sticks.
“Guess we kind of like kissing,” Shaun tossed out. I gave him a fast look but couldn’t tell if the comment was purposely suggestive or not.
We rode to Liberty at a leisurely pace, despite the neatly plowed and salted roads. The Liberty Ice Palace rose up in front of us as we pulled off Main Street heading west. It was built back in the sixties and refurbished about ten years ago. It housed all kinds of hockey leagues and figure skaters who trained here. I’d cut my teeth here, playing my first game in net at the age of six. Shaun had been there as much as was possible given he was getting into his sport as well at the same time.
Travel was commonplace for our parents and us, mine hauling me all over the state and sometimes as far as Canada. Shaun had spent lots of time out west, Colorado mostly. Later in his career, after we’d graduated, he’d moved to Breckenridge to live near his coach, returning home when he could fit it in among his world snowboarding events that took him to places like Beijing, Norway, and all over the US.
“So, what’s next on your touring schedule?” I asked as we entered the rink, pausing at the front door to yell for Gus, the rink manager, who’d been kind enough to run down to let us skate for a bit. Mrs. Gus had died before I was born so the rink and the kids who used it were the only family Gus had.
“There’s the world cup in Sweden
late January, Winter Dew tour in Breckinridge, X Games in Aspen, and the championships in Vail. Oh, and Spring Battle at Absolut Park in Germany in April. That covers spring,” he chuckled.
“Guess we’re lucky we managed to see each other for four days, huh?” As soon as that came out I heard how needy boyfriendish it sounded. “I mean, with both of us traveling so much, how cool our schedules lined up.”
“Mitch, I know the traveling is like maybe an issue…” he paused as if trying to find the right words. Not that there were right words. We were not a couple. We were not anything. Friends. That was it. Friends who kissed two years ago when those miserable travel schedules had brought us together in the same country.
“There’s Frick and Frack,” Gus bellowed as he waddled toward us. He was an old D-man from back in the day when there were no such pussy things as helmets, mouth guards, or penalties for instigating. Everyone instigated back then according to Gus. Despite his scarred face and gruff personality, Gus loved hockey, and in doing so, loved every kid who played it. When I tried to apologize for calling on a holiday, he waved it off with a hand the size of a dinner plate.
Shaun and I let the travel talk drop to shake hands with Gus and shoot the shit for a bit. When Gus was filled in on our achievements since last we’d talked, he went to his office to do paperwork. Shaun and I made our way to the ice, gearing up before stepping out onto the ice. Shaun had an older pair of CCM skates, a well-used Easton stick, and decently strong ankles. They didn’t bend out or anything and his hands were good. He’d never be Dan Arou, but he could hold his own in a shinny game.
“Man, you take forever,” he teased after making a couple laps of the crisp ice to find his stride.
I glanced up from tying my left leg pad to my skate. “You planning on shooting pucks at me?”
“Hell yeah.”
“Then I need pads. Just chill out.”
“It’s cool, I’m just busting on you a bit. Take your time. Don’t want that pretty face to get marred up by my wicked slap shot.”
My attention went to my skates as my cheeks warmed. Soon we were on the ice. I drew in a deep breath, pulling in the cold air and the scent of hockey.