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I laughed, then did a quick pivot so that I was skating backward in front of her. Her eyes never moved from my feet, and then she sighed. “Okay, fine, I’ll keep practicing.”
The music was thumping bass now, and with a look over my shoulder, I caught a glimpse of Harlow shuffling forward with her hand tight on the half-wall. Her legs looked longer with the skates tight to her feet, and I paused to watch her while her concentration was elsewhere. She was holding her legs so stiff, and as Sage whipped past her, she waved with her free hand.
“Come on, Mom,” Sage yelled. “You can do it!”
Harlow’s teeth were locked on her bottom lip, and when she tried to let go of the wall, her arm flailed out so wide, she almost fell backward. Chuckling under my breath, I skated slowly over toward her, easing to a stop a few feet away.
“Why do I remember this being a lot easier?” she asked, eyes darting up to mine before she shuffled forward a few feet.
“We’re old now.”
She snorted. “No shit.” Then she pinned me with an accusatory glare. “Yet, look at you. When did you turn into Wayne fucking Gretzky?”
“I still played when I lived in London.” I pursed my lips when she put one arm straight out, keeping the edge of her fingers on the wall as we inched—literally moved inches at a time—around the rink. “What’s happening with your arms there, sparky? You look like a plane that’s about to land.”
“Oh fuck off,” she breathed on a laugh. “I do not.”
“You sort of do.”
Her eyes were big and slightly terrified, but slowly, very, very slowly, she relaxed her stance, and tried to mimic the way my feet were moving. We made a lap, and I turned around her slowly, coming to her side. Sage lapped us a few times, gaining speed each time.
“Great, I’m with two show-offs,” Harlow mumbled. Then she held up her hand. “I know, I know, it was my idea.”
“She’s having fun though,” I said.
Harlow smiled, casting a quick glance at her daughter as she skated up to the counter and asked the worker for a couple of specific songs. “She is.”
“You have to admit, it’s a lot better when it’s not full of people.”
She snorted. “You think everything’s better when it’s not full of people.”
“Can’t argue with that.” Carefully, I watched her knees bend a bit, and her arms eventually relaxed, her fingers brushing against mine as we made another lap. “What made you want to come do this?”
“Figured Sage would get a kick out of it. The way we used to entertain ourselves a million years ago.”
It was a good enough answer. But I found myself studying her profile. “That’s it?”
She didn’t answer right away. “Being back here is kinda weird, isn’t it?”
“A little.”
“It feels new and different, but not,” she said, accompanied by a slight tilt of her head. “I guess it’s got me thinking about how it used to be. Simple things that made us happy.”
Harlow wobbled a little, her hands jutting out the side again. I set a hand on her lower back, the heat of her skin seeping through the thin layer of the very clingy, long-sleeve white top.
“Back when you had balance?” I asked.
She laughed loudly. “Yeah, like that.”
Sage whizzed past, and the whoosh of air had Harlow emitting a short squeak of surprise. Her hand swung, and her upper body pitched forward. I pushed forward and snatched her elbow before she fell.
Her body was stiff as a board as she tried to gain her bearings, her fingers clutched at my chest as she wobbled. Her breath was coming in short pants, but when the song changed, the bass and guitar shifting to something I hadn’t heard in a million years, I smiled.
“If I fall and break my hip to this song, I’ll never recover,” she said, grasping at my hand when I offered it to her. We stood there for a few more seconds, and eventually, she locked her eyes on mine.
“Breathe,” I told her quietly. “You’ve got it. You just need to relax a little bit.”
Harlow nodded. Weaving my fingers through hers, I gently moved in front of her so I could hold her hands while she eased back into her slow progress on the rink.
