He genuinely looks concerned “No, it’s not bad, really it isn’t. It’s just missing… feeling.”
“I feel nothing other than boredom. I can totally write about that, if you think it would be better?”
“Okay, I think it’s time we take a break instead. Your understanding of the literature is getting better. We just need to work on taking your thoughts and making them… umm, more poetic.” Shuffling the papers together, I make a clean stack before putting them back in my binder. I think about the list of things I still want to do before this break is over and we head back to campus. There’s no way I want to spend another early night in at Nat and Damion’s.
“Hey, you up for something adventurous?” He quirks a full eyebrow at my question. “Okay, well adventurous for me,” I clarify.
“I’m all yours and up for anything. Lead on.” He gestures with a gallant bow.
Pulling out of the booth, I draw up short as Robert steps into my space. The narrow walkway between tables gives me nowhere to go.
“Hey,” he says but doesn’t move to get out my way.
“Hi?” I can’t see him, but Preston’s presence behind me calms the uncertain butterflies in my stomach.
“Look, Clara, can we talk?” He glances nervously over my shoulder.
Calloused fingers slide smoothly down my arm, interlacing with mine, a gentle squeeze assures me he’s there if I need him. I keep my voice low, leaning in closer to Robert. “I said everything I needed to say the other day. Now, if you’ll excuse us. We have plans.”
We leave the diner and step into the brisk late afternoon, the winter sky darkening even though it’s barely past four. I hate that about this time of year. You should never get less than at least twelve hours of sunlight. These eight hours of muted dreariness are wretched. It makes me want to pack up everything I own and move somewhere where the sun always shines, and the temperatures never dip below sixty.
Strolling down Main Street, the wind whips painfully chilling my skin and I tighten my peacoat with a shiver. The weight of my backpack lessens as Preston steals it from my hold. He slings it over his broad shoulder instead, pulling me into his side. His warmth diminishes the chill. Enjoying his comfort, I take in the town’s enthusiastic efforts to decorate for the holiday season. Garland twists around lamp posts and hangs from every shop’s awning. Storefront windows display detailed fake snow paintings. I examine each one as we walk slowly, trying to decide who I’ll vote for. Another traditional town competition.
The muffled sounds of Christmas music drift from under door jambs and I feel like we really are walking in a winter wonderland as the snow begins to fall in fat chunks from the sky.
“Are you sure we shouldn’t head back to your brother’s house?” He nods to the roads where the snow begins to coat the black tarmac.
“Damion’s truck might be old, but it’ll get us home.” I honestly missed driving it. There’s something about the sounds it makes and the old stick shift that brings back the memories of Damion teaching me how to drive years ago. When he finally got fed up and Natalie stepped in, we spent weekspracticing.Little did Damion know, I’d gotten the hang of it quickly with a patient teacher. Nat and I would spend hours catching up and relaxing kid-free at the edge of town.
“It’s just around the corner.”
ChapterSix
Preston and I make it to the nondescript old brick building on the edge of the town square. The parking lot is full of minivans and SUVs and now I’m kicking myself for not checking to see if they had a game going tonight.
The arena smells like a mix of old locker room and stale popcorn. Warped echoing conversations and shrieks of laughter filter down the hall as we stop by the counter to pay for admission and grab our skates.
Preston doesn’t hesitate to give over his shoe size and seems unfazed when the attendant hands him the black skates. The cheerful melody of one of my favorite Christmas tunes drifts through the air. We stow my bag and our shoes in the beat-up metal lockers, lace up, and step out onto the ice.
Taking him in as he glides gracefully across the frozen surface, I wait for him to comment on my choice of adventure. “I should have known,” I mumble and shake my head. Preston skates back toward me.
“What’d you say?”
“I said, I should have known you’d be good at this. You and your natural athleticism.” He laughs at my annoyed pout. A small part of me wanted to show him I could do something more than flip a page in a book.
“I’m from Minnesota. I’ve played ice hockey since I was old enough to hold a stick and played league all through high school.” That tracks with the way he effortlessly glides around me. He’s skating forward and backward, stopping on a pin, and spinning as if he’s a trained figure skater instead of a hockey player.
“You know, you’re not so bad yourself. But I bet it wasn’t ice hockey that taught you.”
“Oh? What makes you say that?” I ask.
“Because you have a beautiful smile.”
“Yeah, you’re right, no pucks to the face here. My mom used to bring me here when I was little. She grew up figure skating and wanted to share it with me. I can skate, but I can’t skate like her.” She used to be so carefree when I was little. She seemed to love spending time with me and didn’t care that I wasn’t going to be the next Olympic figure skating champion.
She’d pick me up from school on Thursdays, and we’d drive straight here. Mom was grace in motion, executing lighter-than-air jumps and dizzying spins without effort, my little legs pumping hard across the ice, following in her wake doing my best imitations. Her cheers at my attempts could rival a stadium’s roar. We’d break to catch our breath, huddled on the metal bleachers, sipping steaming hot cocoa from the vending machines. When she left, I tried to keep up with it. Thinking maybe one day she’d stop by.
Weeks went by, then months. When a year finally came and went, I knew she wasn’t coming back. My dad never told me why she left, and if Damion knows, he’s never said. I’ve wanted to hate her for choosing to leave us, but all I could ever muster up was a weight in my heart where her unconditional love once filled me.