I pull back so I can look at him, horrified to realize that I’m having to do it through the tears that are filling my eyes.
Elliot reaches up and carefully brushes them away.
“Hey,” he says softly. “It’s okay. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”
“That’s the thing, though,” I say slowly. “Ido, don’t I? I mean, I don’twantto stay here, but I don’t want to leave Dad, either. And I don’t want to leave you. Or for you to leave me. I … just don’t like the … theleaving. I wish it wasn’t so hard.”
I also wish I didn’t sound quite so pathetic right now, but if Elliot notices, he’s kind enough not to mention it.
“Let’s forget about ‘the leaving’ for now, then,” he says, kissing me on the forehead. “Let’s just do something fun; take our minds off it.”
“Like what?” I ask doubtfully, struggling to imagine what could be ‘fun’ enough to stop me thinking about the look on Dad’s face when I told him I wanted to go to America.
Elliot thinks for a second.
“Ice skating,” he says triumphantly. “Sandra at The Rose told me there’s a pond near here that’s frozen over. Apparently they’ve turned it into an ice rink.”
“Really?” I reply, wondering who ‘they’ are, and what on earth they were thinking. “That sounds kind of dangerous, don’t you think? Remember when Amy fell through the ice inLittle Women? That’s where ‘living dangerously’ gets you.”
“Yes. And Laurie pulled her back out again, didn’t he?” says Elliot. “Then they lived happily ever after.”
He grins at me in a ‘gotchya’ kind of way.
“That’s just a story, though,” I point out, feeling like the killjoy I undoubtedly am. “This isn’t one.”
“Everything’s a story,” Elliot replies. “And sometimes living ‘dangerously’, as you put it, is the only way to really tell it.”
“I don’t know how to skate, though,” I protest, my resolve wavering in the face of his enthusiasm.
“You think I do?” he laughs. “I’m from Florida, remember? But we’ll figure it out. And Sandra told me she has some skates we can borrow, before you use that as your next objection. I was going to suggest we go tomorrow, but hey; no time like the present, huh?”
He beams at me, and my final shred of resolve breaks.
“It sounds like you’ve got it all figured out already,” I comment, wishing every other puzzle in our lives could be this easy. “How can I say no?”
A few minutes later, we’re bundled up in our winter coats again, and crunching through the snow to the hotel, where Sandra, the normally dour-faced landlady, hands up some skates, her face lighting up at the sight of Elliot, who’s obviously added her to the list of people he’s charmed in this village.
My skates are slightly too big, and his are a little too small, but we take them anyway, and drive the short distance to the pond, which, as Elliot said, is completely frozen over, its surface glistening with frost. Although Dad closed the shop early today, it’s already starting to get dark by the time we arrive, but people have pulled their cars up as close to the pond as they can get them, and switched on the headlights so the ice is illuminated, the handful of skaters on its surface looking ghostly in the dim light.
“I’m really not sure about this,” I mutter as Elliot and I wobble our way out to what used to be the edge of the pond. “I’m still thinking about Amy March.”
“Think about Laurie instead,” Elliot replies, his eyes dancing with amusement. “Come on; I promise I won’t let you fall.”
I’m not totally sure about that either, given that he’s having difficulty remaining upright himself, but after the first few minutes, whichwe spend looking a lot like cartoon characters about to do the splits, we start to get the hang of it.
“See?” says Elliot triumphantly as we glide somewhat shakily around the ice, sticking carefully to the edges so that if itdoesbreak, we’ll only end up soaked to the knees, rather than one of us being forced to mount a daring rescue operation (Which is what I secretly expect is going to be the outcome of this). “I told you it would be fun.”
“You did,” I agree breathlessly, holding onto his arm with both hands as we gather speed. “And it is. You were right.”
“And just think,” he says, attempting to spin me around in a circle that ends up more like a very large square, “You would never have known if you hadn’t given it a chance.”
“Why do I get the feeling you’re trying to tell me something?” I reply, laughing.
“Who? Me?” says Elliot, feigning surprise. “Never!”
He spins me again, and this time it’s a little more successful. I hold tightly onto his hand, feeling like I’m flying as we speed across the ice together, the wind rushing past my face, and tying my hair in knots.
It reallyisa lot of fun.
