What's Left of Me
Page 46
“Relax. I’m not taking you anywhere crazy. It’ll be fun.”
“I’m relaxed.”
“Sure you are.”
He looks down at my foot that is nervously moving back and forth. I freeze it mid-twitch, which only confirms his assumption.
“What is this place?” I ask as we pull into a parking lot by a huge white building. Lights line the parking lot and sidewalk leading into the building. There aren’t that many cars here and I’m not sure if I should be thankful or nervous.
“This,” he gestures to the building as he puts the car in park, “is Graham Arena. You said you didn’t know how to skate. I’m going to teach you.”
“You’re going to teach me?”
“Yup.” He gets out of the car, making his way to my side and opening the door for me. “Come on.” Taking my hand, he leads the way toward the big double doors.
I love walking into an ice arena: the cold air, the smell of the ice, freshly smoothed by the Zamboni, and the sounds of skates leaving their mark on the ice. The smell of the cold rink fills my lungs as I breathe in, and I can’t help but bounce on my toes with excitement. The rink is huge; it looks like a full-size hockey arena.
Still holding hands, we walk over to get skates. It’s open skating, which is free, and the cost of rental skates is minimal. The guy gives us our choice of hockey or ice skates. Parker tells him we need two sets of hockey skates and asks for my size. I cringe.
“Eleven, please.” The guy behind the counter doesn’t even hesitate, grabbing my size and handing them to me.
“Eleven?” Parker questions.
I shrug, embarrassed. I’m five foot nine and have big feet. How many tall women do you know with little feet?
Parker tells him his size, a twelve. He gives the man a twenty and I make my way to the bench to start putting on the skates while he waits for his change.
After the first one is on and I’m sliding my foot in the second, Parker sits next to me. “An eleven?” he asks again, looking down at my feet as I begin to tie up the laces.
“Yes, an eleven.” I sigh. “I hate my feet. Let’s not talk about them, please.”
“You don’t look like you wear an eleven.”
I laugh. I didn’t know that people looked like their shoe size. “Sorry to disappoint.”
“No, no! Not disappointed. Honestly, I’m shocked. I happen to like your feet. I just never thought they were that big.” He nudges my shoulder while giving a playful laugh. Shaking my head, I go back to tying up the laces.
“Ready?” he asks, standing on the skates like a pro.
Pulling the laces tightly, I reach up for him. “Yup.”
I’ve been on skates before, but it’s been awhile and I’ve never been good, hence needing the lesson. Wobbling and holding onto Parker’s arm for balance, I follow him closely toward the ice.
The rink is quiet for this time of the night, which I’m thankful for. I’m not sure I want to be the laughingstock of the bystanders. Parker reaches the ice first, so I let go of his arm, allowing him to skate forward. I watch as he skates toward the center of the ice, making figure eights as he does. When he reaches the center, he does an abrupt stop, shooting ice up from the skates as if they’re like little sparks of fire.
“Showoff!” I call to him.
“Come on, babe.” He curls his finger, motioning for me to come to him.
“No way! You brought me here to teach me. I’m not about to make a fool of myself and show you just how lame of a skater I am.”
He skates toward me and stops in front of me. I take both of his hands and slowly make my way onto the ice with him. I wouldn’t call what I am doing skating. It’s more like me moving my feet while Parker pulls me along. He’s skating backward and never looks back to see where he is going. It’s as if he’s been on this rink a hundred times and knows just where the boards are.
We skate like this for a good amount of time, until he tells me I’m ready to go on my own. I don’t believe him, but try anyway.
I’m surprised I don’t fall on my butt right away, but even more surprised when I’m able to keep up with Parker.
“You’re doing great!” he calls. He’s skating next to me, but there’s about a three-person distance between us. I’m not sure if that’s just a coincidence, or if he’s giving me space so that he doesn’t chop off any of my fingers if I fall.
“Thanks! I think I’m getting the hang of it.” My feet push out in swift forward strokes, allowing me to go faster. When we come up to a turn, I do as Parker said and push off with my outer foot, allowing that foot to steer.
Just when I thought I was doing well at keeping up with him, he takes off full speed ahead, sending ice flying back at me.
“Hey! That’s not fair!” I yell.
“Come on, little lady. Move it!”
I push myself to go fast, but I don’t get much speed. My legs are a little wobbly, so I lose my balance every time I try to push off to go faster.
I can hear Parker laughing as he skates laps around me. We’re the only ones on the ice now. I bend my knees a little, lowering myself slightly closer to the ice. Following Parker’s movements, I swing my arms out with each push off the ice with my feet. Before I know it, I’ve gained enough speed to catch up to him. He looks pleased.
“Look at you go,” he says, smiling at me.
“I’m relaxed.”
“Sure you are.”
He looks down at my foot that is nervously moving back and forth. I freeze it mid-twitch, which only confirms his assumption.
“What is this place?” I ask as we pull into a parking lot by a huge white building. Lights line the parking lot and sidewalk leading into the building. There aren’t that many cars here and I’m not sure if I should be thankful or nervous.
“This,” he gestures to the building as he puts the car in park, “is Graham Arena. You said you didn’t know how to skate. I’m going to teach you.”
“You’re going to teach me?”
“Yup.” He gets out of the car, making his way to my side and opening the door for me. “Come on.” Taking my hand, he leads the way toward the big double doors.
I love walking into an ice arena: the cold air, the smell of the ice, freshly smoothed by the Zamboni, and the sounds of skates leaving their mark on the ice. The smell of the cold rink fills my lungs as I breathe in, and I can’t help but bounce on my toes with excitement. The rink is huge; it looks like a full-size hockey arena.
Still holding hands, we walk over to get skates. It’s open skating, which is free, and the cost of rental skates is minimal. The guy gives us our choice of hockey or ice skates. Parker tells him we need two sets of hockey skates and asks for my size. I cringe.
“Eleven, please.” The guy behind the counter doesn’t even hesitate, grabbing my size and handing them to me.
“Eleven?” Parker questions.
I shrug, embarrassed. I’m five foot nine and have big feet. How many tall women do you know with little feet?
Parker tells him his size, a twelve. He gives the man a twenty and I make my way to the bench to start putting on the skates while he waits for his change.
After the first one is on and I’m sliding my foot in the second, Parker sits next to me. “An eleven?” he asks again, looking down at my feet as I begin to tie up the laces.
“Yes, an eleven.” I sigh. “I hate my feet. Let’s not talk about them, please.”
“You don’t look like you wear an eleven.”
I laugh. I didn’t know that people looked like their shoe size. “Sorry to disappoint.”
“No, no! Not disappointed. Honestly, I’m shocked. I happen to like your feet. I just never thought they were that big.” He nudges my shoulder while giving a playful laugh. Shaking my head, I go back to tying up the laces.
“Ready?” he asks, standing on the skates like a pro.
Pulling the laces tightly, I reach up for him. “Yup.”
I’ve been on skates before, but it’s been awhile and I’ve never been good, hence needing the lesson. Wobbling and holding onto Parker’s arm for balance, I follow him closely toward the ice.
The rink is quiet for this time of the night, which I’m thankful for. I’m not sure I want to be the laughingstock of the bystanders. Parker reaches the ice first, so I let go of his arm, allowing him to skate forward. I watch as he skates toward the center of the ice, making figure eights as he does. When he reaches the center, he does an abrupt stop, shooting ice up from the skates as if they’re like little sparks of fire.
“Showoff!” I call to him.
“Come on, babe.” He curls his finger, motioning for me to come to him.
“No way! You brought me here to teach me. I’m not about to make a fool of myself and show you just how lame of a skater I am.”
He skates toward me and stops in front of me. I take both of his hands and slowly make my way onto the ice with him. I wouldn’t call what I am doing skating. It’s more like me moving my feet while Parker pulls me along. He’s skating backward and never looks back to see where he is going. It’s as if he’s been on this rink a hundred times and knows just where the boards are.
We skate like this for a good amount of time, until he tells me I’m ready to go on my own. I don’t believe him, but try anyway.
I’m surprised I don’t fall on my butt right away, but even more surprised when I’m able to keep up with Parker.
“You’re doing great!” he calls. He’s skating next to me, but there’s about a three-person distance between us. I’m not sure if that’s just a coincidence, or if he’s giving me space so that he doesn’t chop off any of my fingers if I fall.
“Thanks! I think I’m getting the hang of it.” My feet push out in swift forward strokes, allowing me to go faster. When we come up to a turn, I do as Parker said and push off with my outer foot, allowing that foot to steer.
Just when I thought I was doing well at keeping up with him, he takes off full speed ahead, sending ice flying back at me.
“Hey! That’s not fair!” I yell.
“Come on, little lady. Move it!”
I push myself to go fast, but I don’t get much speed. My legs are a little wobbly, so I lose my balance every time I try to push off to go faster.
I can hear Parker laughing as he skates laps around me. We’re the only ones on the ice now. I bend my knees a little, lowering myself slightly closer to the ice. Following Parker’s movements, I swing my arms out with each push off the ice with my feet. Before I know it, I’ve gained enough speed to catch up to him. He looks pleased.
“Look at you go,” he says, smiling at me.
