Part 21 (1/2)

I look to my right. I am a mere five blocks away.

”Thanks, Ruby!”

I hurry, weaving in and out of an already fast moving crowd. A light but hardly cold snow begins to fall. The air is crisp and cool but not unbearable. By the time I hit the skating rink, I am out of breath. My hands are braced on my knees and I'm trying to recover. I realize I must make myself exercise, but that is a task for another day.

When my lungs finally recover, I stand and notice the sign: Early Season Special Today: $10. I pull out the wad of cash in my pocket. Wad is not the right word. It's two five-dollar bills. It's the last of my money.

Then I spot Mikaela. She is alone on the ice, spinning in a circle, her arms wide and open, her tongue catching the snowflakes as they come down.

I pay at the window and am issued skates. I sit on the bench, tie them up, and glide onto the ice. It's been a while, but I always liked to skate. It brings back good memories almost instantly. As I skate toward Mikaela, I notice Jake on the other side of the rink. I skate past him, but he doesn't notice me. He's giving money to a mother and a child who look like they've come and watched and never skated themselves. Their faces are filled with delight.

I come along side Mikaela. ”Hey, kiddo,” I say with a friendly grin.

She scowls at me, her expression a cold mess of anger and sorrow.

”What's the matter?”

From her jacket, she pulls out a crumpled envelope and then what looks like a card. She tosses it to me and I slip a little trying to catch it. She then skates off. I stand there while others skate by me on my left and right. On the envelope is Mikaela's name written in pen and spelled wrong. I turn the card over to the front. I immediately recognize it as one of mine.

The front reads: Do I like you?

Inside, there are options with little boxes next to each one: No, Nada And Never. All the boxes are pre-checked, but someone has circled them for emphasis. And then the punch line: the Bible says G.o.d works all things together for good. Trust me. This rejection is for your good. And it's signed David . . .

Her crush.

My heart stings with guilt and sadness and anger. She's been nothing but nice to this kid. I've witnessed it firsthand. I turn to find her but she has now skated up right next to me.

”Mikaela, I'm sorry he did this.”

”It's not your fault, right? You didn't give it to me.” Her cheeks are red from the cold but I suspect that's not the only reason they're glowing.

”Look, it's a joke, okay? It's supposed to be funny. It's . . .” How to explain this to a child? ”Trust me, this is for your good. Stay away from boys and especially don't kiss them. It messes up your senses.”

”You kissed Jake?”

”What? No? . . . No.” The first denial came out as a question, so that never really bodes well for believability. The next one should've been followed by an exclamation point, but it honestly barely deserves any kind of punctuation. It's more of a raspy, unconvincing croak.

”He kissed you?”

”Mikaela!” I am so fl.u.s.tered I'm trying to shush her but I can't even get my finger to my lips. It's sort of waving around like it has no place to go.

”Is he a pa.s.sionate kisser?”

I almost faint right there on the ice. I've lost sight of Jake. For all I know, he could be standing right behind us. ”I am not talking to you about this!” I whisper, managing the exclamatory ending while flas.h.i.+ng casual smiles to pa.s.sers-by.

”So he is!” Mikaela says. I notice she is momentarily distracted. I turn to see what she is looking at. It is a father skating with his daughter. ”My dad used to take me skating at a lake near our house. We'd go every Sat.u.r.day.”

I'm filled with emotion for my little friend, so much so that it knocks me right on my backside. No, wait. That wasn't emotion. Turns out it was Jake. I'm splayed out on the ice with Jake halfway on top of me. He rolls off and Mikaela is standing over us, laughing, while Jake is profusely apologizing and helping me to my feet.

We all skate together for a while, Jake and me quieter than normal. I watch him with Mikaela. He has a way with her-she seems to drop a lot of her facade and acts like the kid she is when she's with him. It also seems, for now, she has forgotten about David.

After about an hour, we lose Jake again. He's found someone else to help, a young woman sitting alone on a bench, distraught over something. I don't catch much of the conversation, only what I can hear while skating by. But he's in card quoting mode for sure.

”. . . never lose hope. You'll find what's missing . . .”

Mikaela and I circle back around. We don't have to admit it to each other-we're both fond of eavesdropping. At our next pa.s.s she is talking.

”How can you say I'll find it? This is the fourth time I've been stood up!”

I didn't know it was possible, but she stomps off the ice with skates on her feet. She's wobbly, but she makes it to safe ground. Jake returns and I playfully hold my hand out. He smirks and slaps a one-dollar bill in my hand.

”Best three out of five?” I ask, but he skates on. I don't suppose we'll ever see eye-to-eye on this matter.

As I'm stuffing the dollar in my pocket, Mikaela looks at me. ”He's going to lose heart if you're not careful.” I sigh and roll my eyes at her. ”He's waiting for your cognitive instincts to kick in.”

”Cognitive instincts? Who says that? Did Jake slip you that special dictionary he uses?”

”I think he wants to believe what he tells you. But it's hard.”

”You guys talked about this?”

But she skates off to join him, giggly and small again.

I go to work later, but my heart is not in it. I have trouble concentrating and nothing I write is coming out funny. I leave early and go buy a candy bar. I am two cents short but the cas.h.i.+er waves off the pennies.

Back in my room, I close the door and collapse with even weight distribution onto my bed. Before I'm able to draw my feet on there as well, there is a knock.

”Mikaela . . . I'm tired.”

There is a knock again. I know her. She's going to stand out there and knock until I open the door. I pull a few strands of hair out of my ponytail, just to try to make myself look as ragged as I feel. Maybe she's a visual learner.

I yank open the door, but it's not Mikaela.

It's Jake.

He doesn't wait to be invited in. Instead, he steps right past me into my room. I close the door and stare him down, embarra.s.sed by my situation. I can't even offer him a gla.s.s of water. Or a toilet. He stands and looks at the Murphy bed for a moment, his hands in his pockets.

”This is where you live?”

”The Milford Plaza was booked.” I cross my arms. I should probably fix my ponytail but right now but I need my body language to make a few things clear. ”Why are you here?”

Jake sits down at the desk. The chair creaks beneath him. ”Who made you so untrusting?”

”You came all the way over here to ask me that? I don't want to talk about it anymore than you want to discuss how your wife died.”