What's Left of Me (24 page)

“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 give a little bow for approval, but seem to have forgotten I’m on ice skates because I lose my balance and go crashing down onto the ice, directly onto my right hip.
 
The wind gets knocked out of me, causing me to grunt at the surprise impact.
 
Pain slices through my hip and into my leg.
 
Any pain I may have felt before in my hip has just multiplied.

“Shit!
 
Are you okay?”
 
Parker is at my side, bending over me before I can comprehend what just happened.

When I look into his eyes, his expression causes me to panic.
 
His eyes are wide, his pupils have doubled, and his mouth is frozen open.

I look around, searching for my worst fear—my hair sprawled out next to me—but I see nothing.
 
My hands fly up to my head.
 
I feel hair.
 
That’s good!

“Parker?” I ask with caution.
 
I don’t know why he is looking at me like that.

“You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Okay, good.”
 
He stifles a laugh, which causes me to give him a stern look.

“I’m sorry!”

“It’s not funny!”

“I know.
 
You’re right.
 
It’s not.”
 
But he laughs again.

“Parker,” I snap.
 
Even though my hip’s throbbing, I give him a small smile because, after all, it is funny.

We both start to laugh.
 
I’m laughing so hard my stomach begins to hurt.
 
Parker reaches down, offering me his hand, and I take it.

“I think I’ve had enough.”

“I figured.”

We make our way off the ice slowly.
 
My hip really does hurt.
 
I can already feel the bruise forming.
 
With my blood counts a little lower due to the chemo, I bruise easier.

I make a quick move of checking my hair, but it feels good, so I don’t worry about it.

“Thanks,” I say to Parker as he helps me sit on the bench.

“You’ll need to ice that.
 
It looked like you hit pretty hard.”

“I did.”
 
One good thing about falling is I can pass off the pain I’ve been already feeling as this new pain.

I ask Parker to skip dinner and take me home.
 
My hip is throbbing, and I can feel the new bruise forming over the old, but he won’t listen.
 
He insists we go back to his house and finish the date, offering to make me dinner and possibly watch a movie, saying it won’t be a true date if he takes me home without feeding me.
 
So, off to his place we go for homemade pizza.

“Do you want some wine?”

“Sure.
 
Just a small glass.”
 
Because my chemo was postponed a week, and it’s five days before my next one, I was told it would be okay to have a drink or two.

He pours us each half a glass of white wine, and we clink glasses in a silent toast.
 
I watch him taste a small sip before taking a larger one.
 
He makes drinking wine look professional compared to my gulps.
 
Classy!

As Parker puts sauce on our pizza dough, I start adding toppings.

“Tell me more about where you’re from.
 
It’s a small town, right?” Parker asks.

“Correct.
 
Northridge is very small.
 
It’s outside of the twin cities and I think there are maybe three thousand people who live there.”

“Yup.
 
Never heard of it.”

I can’t help but giggle.
 
“I wouldn’t expect you to; you’re not from here.
 
But don’t worry, you’re not alone.
 
About 80% of the state hasn’t heard of it.
 
I usually have to give the name of a major town around me.
 
We don’t have much, but we do have plenty of bars.
 
There’s not a dry mouth in that town!”

He laughs at that.
 
“Sounds like my town.
 
It’s small, but there are plenty of places to find a stiff drink.
 
Oh, and a clinic.”

Taking a quick sip of my wine, I ask, “What is it with small towns having a lot of bars?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

I add the last of the pepperoni just in time for the oven to beep.

Parker puts our pizza in the oven.

“How old were you when your parents adopted Genna?”

“My parents adopted her first.
 
They had tried to have a baby for a few years and couldn’t, so they adopted.
 
Then, voila, they had me.”
 
I add in the spirit fingers with a huge grin.
 
Parker laughs.

“That’s awesome.
 
I take it you two are close?”

“Yeah.
 
We get along really well.
 
You mentioned when we first went out that you have a younger brother.
 
How about you two?
 
You close?”

“Oh, Lee and I?
 
Yeah.
 
We are.
 
We’re opposites, though.
 
He played football; I played hockey.
 
I golf in the spring; he plays baseball.
 
We’re both athletic, just not at the same sports.
 
But, regardless, we always have a good time.”

“Lee?”

“Yeah.
 
Don’t tell me you know him?” he jokes.

I laugh.

“No, can’t say I know a Lee.
 
It’s just, that’s my middle name, but spelled L-e-i-g-h.”

“No shit.
 
Well, don’t get too comfortable with having things in common with my brother,” he teases.

“What’s yours?” I ask.

“My middle name?”

I nod.

“Cade.”

Cade.
 
I like that.
 
Giving him a soft smile, I tell him.

“Thank you.”

“Does your brother live in Florida?”

“Yes.
 
He works for my dad’s finance company.”

“Did your dad want you to work for him too?”

“No.
 
My parents never pressured us into anything.
 
As long as we went to college they were happy and supportive.
 
Lee just happens to be really good with numbers and accounting, so it made sense that he’d follow in my dad’s footsteps.
 
I’m more like my mom.
 
She never worked aside from running the hobby farm.
 
All she wanted to do was be outside with the animals.
 
I saw her admiration and love for animals, and I knew I wanted to be like her.”

Parker opens the fridge and pulls out a bowl full of cotton candy grapes. Oh my, they are out of this world!
 
Whoever thought to grow hybrid grapes like these is pure genius.
 
Reaching in, I grab a handful and pop one in my mouth.