Chapter 15
Izzy
Little blog. I’ll show him.
I pull up the hood of my black zip-up, which I’ve teamed with black skinny jeans for the task at hand. I’m definitely more unobtrusive in the low light of dusk than if I were wearing my luminous yoga pants.
I had a cab drop me a couple of blocks from Sky Rink and I’m walking, with my head down, along the sidewalk to the building. It’s seven forty-five. I figure if I can get into an inconspicuous position before Brooks and his friends arrive, I’ll be able to take pictures of him entering the building. Hopefully, I’ll follow them inside and catch him in action, playing hockey after I’ve expressly told him not to.
Then we’ll see how he likes my blog.
I can visualize the post title now. “BROOKS ADAMS, CHEAT.” It’s going to be fabulous.
In the parking lot of the skating rink, I start to use the stationary vehicles to shield my approach to the main entrance. I tiptoe, checking my blind spots as I move, until I come to the wall east of the entrance. I tuck in behind it and take a moment to channel my inner ninja, checking to make sure my camera, well, iPhone, is still in the arse pocket of my jeans.
There’s no sign of Brooks and his friends just yet. At the sound of an incoming car, I pop my head around the wall and look. I wait for the driver to turn off the engine and step out, holding my breath. It’s not Brooks. Darn.
A tap on my shoulder startles me. I jump back against the wall and find myself looking at a tall man wearing a security uniform. Oops.
“Ma’am, can you explain what you’re doing here?”
“Yes,” I whisper. “I’m sorry, sir; I must seem suspicious but I promise I’m not causing trouble. I’m spying on someone, that’s all.”
“Why are you whispering?”
I look left and right as if I’ll find the answer and whisper, “I don’t know.”
“Then I’ll ask you again. What are you doing sneaking around these premises? I’d appreciate it if you could speak up.”
Clearing my throat and straightening my back, I tell him. “I’m spying on someone. He’s going to play ice hockey and I need to get a picture of him.”
With a perplexed look, the security officer tucks his thumbs into his thick leather belt. “I see. Ice hockey is code. Is this someone having an affair?”
“Huh? No. He— It’s a long story. He’s supposed to salsa dance and only salsa dance. He can’t play hockey. It’s against the rules.”
“The rules? Ma’am, are you feeling okay? Would you like me to take you somewhere to lie down?”
“What? No, you don’t understand.”
“No, ma’am, I don’t. Listen, I can’t have you sneaking around here in an outfit like that. You must know that you look like you’re up to no good.”
I look down over my hoodie, jeans, and black ankle boots. “Erm, well, I can see why you would think that.” I check my watch and sigh. “Damn it, it’s past eight. I’m going inside, sir. I won’t be troubling you anymore.”
“Look, I have no idea what you are or aren’t doing but you seem a harmless kind of insane. How about you take down your hood, head inside, and don’t sneak around here in future?”
“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”
I slip down my hood and walk, like a normal person, to the main entrance. Inside, I put my hood back up and tiptoe to the ticket desk. The woman behind the counter looks up at me. “How can I help?”
“I need access to the ice rink, please.”
“Do you have a session booked?”
“Ah, no. Actually, I just need to speak to someone who does.”
The lady taps on her computer keys. “I’m sorry, the rink isn’t booked right now.”
“It isn’t? Are you sure? I heard my, ah, colleague, say he had a reservation for eight p.m. tonight.”
“You can go through and take a look if you like, but that rink should be empty.”
“I will take a look, if that’s okay?”
She shrugs. “Be my guest.”
I follow signs for the ice rink, still hunched over, still tiptoeing, still hooded. When I get to the rink, the rental shed is empty, except for one worker playing on his phone behind the desk. The rink is dimly lit by an overhead light but it is 100 percent, truly, really, empty.
I take out my phone and dial Kerry. “He isn’t here. I think he played me. I don’t think he was ever coming, Kerry.”
“Conniving, deceitful… Well, you’re going to have to think of something else, Izzy. Posting about him ordering eggs and how your training is going just isn’t going to draw enough interest.”
I hate this. I hate that my book isn’t enough to sell itself. But I have something to prove. I must remember the bigger picture. “I’ll think of something.”
I walk to the edge of the rink and lean on the wood wall around the perimeter. The chill from the ice hits me and takes me back to memories of my childhood. Running my hand along the rim of the rink, I make my way to the gate and bend down, sliding my fingertips along the cold ice.
Gosh, I remember how it felt. I remember how the cold would seep through my clothes when I fell. How it would chill me to the bone at first, until I got moving.
“Excuse me. Can I help you?”
I walk over to the guy behind the rental desk. “No, thank you. I thought a friend was supposed to be here right now but I must have been mistaken.”
“The rink is free if you want to skate?”
I put my hands in my pockets and look back at the ice, remembering that last fall. The fall that gave my mother leverage to tell me to quit figure skating. God, I loved it before that fall. One broken arm was all it took for my mother to make the seed of fear grow. Just another thing I loved that she stopped me from doing. All because she wanted me to focus on more “highbrow” life options.
Could I do it? Could I still skate?
I look back at the guy and past him to the rows of rental skates. “Do you have any figure skates?”
“Sure do.”
I give him my size and the next thing I know, my feet are strapped into white skates and I’m standing on the threshold of the gate and the ice.
I used to be an amazing skater. I had so many friends in my classes. When things got serious, when the competitions started to take up time that my mother thought I should spend doing spelling and math, she started talking to me about how I could hurt myself. She planted the seed and it grew, until the fear made it happen.
The overhead sound system breaks into my trance. “Defying Gravity” from the musical Wicked begins. I take a breath and step onto the ice. I let the gentle momentum nudge me forward, until I can no longer hang on to the side.
Eventually, I nudge myself forward with one foot and glide slowly with the other. Picking up pace, I’m soon halfway around the enormous rink, then back to where I started.
I grip the safety of the gate and start to laugh. I made it. I push off again and do another lap, then another, and another. Each time I get quicker.
On my fifth or sixth lap, I dare to turn and skate backward. I pick up speed and start flying around the rink. The wind of my motion blows against me. I hold out my arms and close my eyes, letting my feet guide me around the slick ice.
My skin feels flushed. My lungs are working hard. My pulse is racing, as I go and go and just keep bloody going. I feel light, weightless, free, and defiant all at once.
Maybe I used to be scared but now I feel the exhilaration that follows when fear is conquered. Fear can lead to freedom.
I have no idea how long I skate for before I start to do tricks. First, I skate on one leg, then I kick up into a flying camel, amazed I can still do it. On my final lap, I build my speed until I can’t go any faster, like I’ve reached the peak of a mountain I’ve been climbing. I bring myself to the middle of the ice and start to spin on the spot, a basic one-foot move. In a split-second, crazy decision, I bring one leg behind me, bending it toward my head, and take hold of my skate. I’m stiffer than I used to be but I’m doing it. I’m doing the bloody haircutter spin! I turn and turn, elated and energized, until my momentum stops and I stop with it.
I lower my leg and bend over my knees to catch my breath, laughing with pure joy, the kind I don’t often feel, the kind that should be cherished.