by Natasja Eby
“Whatever.” There’s the dial tone again, but who cares? That went way better than I thought it would go.
A heavy snow is falling outside and there’s a draft coming through the window in the loft. I can’t help smiling. Back home, it’s probably only a little cool, but nothing like this weather. My phone chimes and my heart skips a beat, thinking it might be Brooke.
But it’s Red’s number, with a simple message: We’ll come.
I stare at my phone. No way. I didn’t think that would actually work. We send a few texts back and forth, working out when they’ll come and how long they’ll stay. I think I say thanks a million times. He says about ten words total, which is honestly way more than he owes me.
Figuring I should ask my Pops if I can have them stay here, I go down the ladder and look around for him. He’s not inside anywhere, but there’s no way he would have driven out in this snow, right? I look out the front window and find him struggling to clear the snow off his long driveway. Throwing my hands into the air, I rush over to my boots and coat and get them on as quickly as I can.
I stomp over to him and says, “Pops, what are you doing out here?”
He turns around, his shovel full of snow, and flips it gently behind him onto the lawn. “Shoveling my driveway, like I’ve been doing for the past sixty years,” he says. “What are you doing out here?”
I scoff before heading to the shed to find a second shovel. Who shovels their driveway in the middle of a storm instead of after? I grab another shovel, a big one that should help me clear the snow quickly.
When I get back to the driveway, Pops is leaning over his shovel, staring at the driveway. My heart stops for a moment. Is he okay? What’s wrong? I start rushing forward but stop when I see him reach down and pat the snow. A second later, a rabbit hops away from him and he shakes his head with a smile. I sigh in relief.
For a few minutes, we work in silence. I really have no idea why he won’t wait for the snow to stop before shovelling, but I’m not going to let him do it alone. After a bit, Pops takes a break, leaning against his shovel while I keep digging away at the snow.
“Hey, Pops,” I say. “Is it okay if we have a couple of my friends stay here for a bit?”
At first, he doesn’t answer. Instead he heaves a shovelful of snow over his shoulder and I wince at the effort of it. I wish he’d let me just do the whole driveway myself.
“What, some of your party friends?” he huffs.
I smile. I should feel offended but I can hear the concern past his annoyance. “No. I don’t talk to any of my party friends anymore. These are...friends who want to help out with the Christmas pageant.”
“Ah,” he says. “Good. That’s good. It sounds like you’re really into the pageant.”
I shrug before scooping up some more snow. “Yeah. I hope we do really well. Marie said they might shut it down next year if they don’t get enough people to watch it.”
Pops nods. “Yeah, she told me. That would be a real shame.”
“Yeah,” I say. “Plus some of those kids are really good. They could go far with it, but...not if it doesn’t exist anymore.”
He smiles softly, which is weird because that isn’t something to smile about. “Adrian, I’m really glad to see you so invested in a good cause.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Oh.” So that’s why he was smiling. “Well, yeah... I mean... Yeah.”
Pops laughs. “It’s a good thing, son. Judge Alderson will be pleased. Maybe he’ll even send you home early.”
My heart drops. Home? I’m not sure I want to go home. Aside from my parents and Simon, there’s nothing left for me there. There’s no Christmas pageant, or ice dancing, or Brooke. There’s just shame, and regret, and lost opportunities.
“Yeah, I guess so,” I say, but my heart isn’t in it.
Of course I can’t expect Pops to keep me here forever. I’m just a burden to him and pretty much everyone in my life. Eventually I’ll be sent home to figure out what to do with my future. But that doesn’t stop me from wishing my future was a little closer to Christmastown instead of Bridgetown.
CHAPTER Eighteen
Brooke
When I meet with Rosa today, her smile makes me feel guilty. But she doesn’t seem to notice. She just sits in her usual chair while I curl up on the couch, hugging the throw pillow to myself.
“I saw you at the Holiday Festival,” Rosa starts by saying. “You were amazing. And that guy—what was his name again?”
“Adrian,” I say shyly.
“He was great, too,” she says. “He must be the one you were telling me about, right? You taught him those moves?”
My heart does a little double tap when I remember watching him glide across the ice in his nice suit, doing those moves I showed him. I’m sure he knows how handsome he is, but he probably has no idea how magical his skating has become.
“Yeah,” I say, pulling the little cushion even closer to myself. “He’s really good despite thinking that he’s clumsy.”
“And how do you feel, skating like that with him?” she asks.
As much as I’d like to talk to her about Adrian, I have other things on my mind. “Rosa?”
“Yes?”
“I’m sorry about how awful I’ve been to you.”
With her forehead puckered into a frown, she sets her pen down and clasps her hands together. “What do you mean?”
“You know,” I mumble into the pillow. “I always end these sessions by getting mad at you and yelling. For doing your job. And because I don’t like talking about...my addiction.”
Rosa shrugs with a little smile. “I get yelled at a lot in this job. It’s just a part of it. And I’ve had much worse clients than you.”
I smile, grateful she didn’t ask me to elaborate on my addiction. I’d been planning to do that anyway. “Still... I think I’m ready now.”
“Go ahead,” she says with an encouraging nod.
I take a deep breath, close my eyes, and crush the pillow. “I didn’t mean to take as many as those drugs as I did. Not in the beginning anyway. And I know everyone says that. Of course they do. No one wants to be the athlete that’s doing drugs.”
I drag in another deep breath and let it out slowly. “And in my head, I wasn’t doing drugs. I wasn’t even trying to have an edge over the others. I was just trying to stay alert and be the best version of myself.”
Opening my eyes, I see Rosa’s gaze trained on me. She’s open, sympathetic. No judgment there. “I’m sure you know,” I mumble, “no one’s ever their best version when they’re taking drugs, even if they’re...safe at some level.”
She nods and doesn’t once drop her gaze. “I think you’re right about that.”
“Basically...” I stop as my face heats up with the shame of the memory. “I didn’t realize I was addicted until after everyone else did. And of course, I fought so hard—”
Tears choke out the rest of my sentence. Rosa waits silently while I work out how to end my sentence. I know what the end is. And it’s not what I ever wanted.
As a tear finally slips down my cheek I say, “I fought so hard with everyone about it because I knew that if it were true...my dream would be taken away from me. For...who knows how long? For a month? Forever?”
I brush the tears away with the sleeves of my sweater. “But it didn’t matter how much I argued and fought and promised I would never do them again. They took everything away from me and now I have...nothing.”
“I understand how you feel,” Rosa says softly. I half-expected her to say “I told you so,” and I’m glad she didn’t. “But do you really think you have nothing now?”
When I think about the answer, the first thing that comes to mind is Adrian. His beautiful smile and sweet kisses. The way he’s so flawed and broken, like me. How bad he is at brooding and hating everything when it’s clear he loves life so much more than anyone I’ve ever known.
That’s a lot of things.
“Well...I lost a lot,” I say. It’s
true, no matter how much people have tried to convince me it’s not. Not competing in the Olympics after being told I was one of the best they’d ever seen hurts more than anything else ever will. No one seems to understand.
But on the other hand... “Maybe I’ve gained a few new things, though.”
“What kinds of things?” Rosa asks.
I can’t tell her everything I was just thinking about Adrian. I’m not ready to say it out loud. So I choose another, also truthful, thing.
“A real sense of myself.”
***
After all the work I’ve been doing with Marie’s classes and rehearsing routines with Adrian, I’m finally starting to feel like I’m in shape again. Whether my old costumes fit or not, I don’t know. I haven’t bothered to try them on.
I have worn the green Mrs. Claus one a few times, though. Just to make sure I still want to wear it. And also because Adrian was right—it looks good on me and it feels great, and I think it’ll look awesome with Santa’s suit.
But I can’t focus on that right now. Adrian and I are trying to put the last touches on our “Greensleeves” routine. He’s pouting because I don’t think he can lift me the way he thinks he can.
“If we don’t do a couple of lifts, then the routine lacks oomph,” he says.
I put my hands up. “So, then it’ll be oomphless.”
He skates close to me, takes my hands, and says quietly, “Do you want this program to be cancelled next year?”
Marie’s little kids are off on the other end of the rink, doing their own thing. I’m sure his voice couldn’t have carried that far, but still I cover his mouth with my hand. “Shh, don’t say that.”
His eyes flash. “I’m serious,” he says against my fingertips.
I drop my hand. “I’m serious, too. The program is not going to be cancelled just because we didn’t have any lifts. But I doubt people will want to watch you drop me all over the ice.”
“I won’t drop you,” he whines. “Especially not if we practice now and do it a million times. That’s how it goes, right?”
“Look, Adrian—” I stop and sigh. “I haven’t skated with a lot of partners. But I know that what you’re asking for is a lot harder than you think it is. Especially when you have zero dancing experience and when your partner is heavier than you think she is.”
“You know what?” He puts his hands on my waist and pulls me closer. “Why don’t we just ask the rest of the class what they think?”
“What do you m—?”
I don’t get to finish my question before Adrian picks me up at the waist and pulls me into a cradle hold.
“Adrian!” I shout. “Put me down.”
“Nope,” he says as he turns and skates towards the little group.
We’re totally interrupting them as he goes right into the middle of their circle. Marie doesn’t look upset in the least. In fact, she seems amused, but I am not.
“Hey, guys,” Adrian says as he skates in between them with me still tucked into his arms. “Do you think I can skate with Brooke in my arms?”
Of course, they all enthusiastically reply that yes, he can skate like that. I roll my eyes and give Marie a help-me look.
She smiles and says, “It would appear that you can, Adrian.”
So much for the help. “Okay, put me down now,” I command.
“No, I have a point to prove,” Adrian says as he continues skating in lazy circles. “What about if I lift her above my shoulders?”
Now Marie looks at least a little concerned as I shout, “Don’t you dare!”
“Why not?” he asks, finally gazing down into my eyes. Boy, it’s a good thing he’s so pretty.
“Because you don’t know the proper mechanics,” I tell him.
“Then teach me.”
He finally stops skating and there’s a moment when everything is still. I just want to stay like that forever but I know he can’t literally hold me forever.
“Okay,” I say. “Alright. I’ll teach you.”
“Good,” he says as he lowers me slowly to the ground. “Thank you for your help, everyone.”
Marie and the little kids clap as Adrian bows dramatically. I can’t help laughing. He made his point and now I have to figure out what kinds of lifts we can learn in the few short weeks we have left before the pageant.
“I’m going to take a break,” Adrian says.
He skates off the ice while I’m wondering if I broke him. But when I see him sit on the nearest hockey bench and stare down at his skates, then I get seriously concerned. After a momentary hesitation, I decide to follow him.
I gesture to the hockey player’s bench. “Do you miss it?” I ask as I sit.
He gives me a sad smile. “To be honest with you, I didn’t spend a lot of time on the bench.”
“My bad,” I say, smiling back.
He watches the little kids for a moment and then says, “I miss it, sure. But I’m glad I found this. I just... I really hope that—”
“I know,” I say. He sounds so genuinely upset about the threat of losing this program that I wonder if there’s more to it than he’s letting on.
He starts untying his skates, so instead of asking him what I really want to know, I say, “Are you leaving?”
“Yeah,” he says. “I’m sorry, I’ve got a lot on my mind. But I’ll see you tomorrow for more rehearsing, okay?”
“That’s good. We’ll need a lot of practice if we’re going to throw a hundred lifts in,” I tease.
He doesn’t smile, but he does nod. “Hey, I asked a couple of friends if they’d come and skate with us,” he says.
“Oh. I didn’t think you had skating friends,” I say.
He rubs the back of his neck. “I don’t really. To be honest...they’re actually just dancers and casual skaters. And...they’re also not technically my friends. But they’re willing to come anyway.”
I laugh but he still looks sad. “I’m very confused, but I’m happy to have help if you’re vouching for them.”
He nods, chewing on his bottom lip. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. It’s gonna be a great program.”
“Hey,” I say, putting my hand on his arm. “Is everything okay?”
“I’m fine,” he says, staring at the floor.
“You don’t seem fine,” I say.
He shrugs. “Well, I am.”
“Right.” I drop my hand. “I guess I got used to you being honest with me and us just telling each other everything.”
His startled gaze flies up to mine. “I’m not—I’m not trying to lie to you. I really am fine. Everything is going great. Pops is really proud of how much work I’ve done with you and the kids.”
“Well, that’s great.” I smile but he doesn’t. “Right?”
He nods. “Yeah. The judge that sent me here told me he wanted me to stay for a year but that he’d review my case after New Year’s. Pops thinks he’ll be really impressed and that—that—maybe I can go home early.”
The last part is said in a whisper. My heart sinks to the floor. He doesn’t say it and I can’t bear to ask how he feels about that. Is he bothered that he might be sent home early or is he worried he hasn’t done enough to earn that?
I try to smile and finally say, “Well, that’s good, right?”
His whole face falls and that’s when I know I’ve said the wrong thing. “Yeah,” he says. “Really good.”
I don’t know what to say to that, so my dumb brains settles on “Do you want a ride...home?”
He shakes his head and stands up. “I think I’ll walk this time,” he whispers before turning away from me.
I let him go instead of pulling him into my arms and begging him to never leave Christmastown. But of course I can’t do that. Just because I forgot he has a whole other life outside of this one doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to go back to it. He had plans and dreams and this was just a pit stop.
A tear slips down my face. I have to let it go. I have to let him go. It wouldn’
t be fair to hold on and hold him back.
CHAPTER nineteen
Adrian
Why did I tell Brooke that everything is fine, that I’m okay with going home? I could have just told her I don’t want to go. I could have told her I don’t want to leave her. But maybe that would have complicated things too much. Maybe she doesn’t want to hear that.
I’m so torn up over it that I couldn’t even go to the Community Centre today. I know I’m supposed to be filling in hours, but I just can’t do it today. Under the guise of being sick, I stay home.
Now I’m lying in bed, scrolling through my old friends’ posts. Most of them are pictures of them partying and it’s honestly not very appealing. At least not anymore. The only thing that appeals to me right now is closing my eyes, maybe forever.
“Adrian!”
Pops’s voice wakes me up. I jolt out of bed before remembering that I had claimed to be sick. I leave the loft and go into the kitchen, where he’s sitting at the table, two steaming bowls of something in front of him.
“Got some chicken noodle soup,” he says, pointing at the empty chair across from him with his spoon. “Since you’re sick.”
“Oh.” I sit down and watch him blow on his bowl. “Thanks.”
We eat quietly for a few minutes with just the occasional sounds of sipping, slurping, and spoons clinking against porcelain. I appreciate the soup, but it doesn’t fix anything for me. It feels like nothing will, not even a good lap around the rink.
“What’s ailing you, Adrian?” Pops asks.
“Just a cold, I’m sure,” I say, staring at my soup.
He chuckles. “You could at least put a little effort into it. Maybe a sniffle or a cough here and there.”
I smile. “Oops.” I take a few more spoonfuls while he watches me. “I promise I’m not trying to get out of work. I’m just...”
Just what, exactly? I can’t tell him I’m too sad. That’s not a good excuse to ditch your commitment.
“A matter of the heart, then?” Pops says gently.
I look up into his eyes. He’s being sincere, that much I can tell. So maybe it is okay to just be too sad to function for one day. I nod, chewing on my lip. He mercifully doesn’t prod any more than that.