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My phone keeps ringing, but I ignore it.
I don’t have to look to know who it is.
It’s her. Cassidy.
She’s been calling for over an hour.
Back in the days when I knew her as Pippa, if she wanted your attention, she stopped at nothing to get it. She’d search until she found me. She was a determined little shit then, and it appears not much has changed in that department.
Despite myself, a small smile spreads across my face before I force it away.
I’m not ready.
To smile.
To answer the phone.
To forgive.
It feels like I’m still spiraling out of control, and I need to rein myself in. I need to be in a better headspace. To think about what I want to say. Nothing good could come from lashing out without thought.
I’m not my mom, and I refuse to act like her.
So instead of calling her back, I go to the one place I can find solace when my brain is a mess.
I take a seat on the small bench outside the local ice rink.
Ever since I was drafted all those years ago, I’ve come here. It’s the closest thing I have to my tree and my lake. I left everything behind, but I kept some of the memories.
That time of my life was a nightmare, but the ice was my solace.
Since as far back as I’ve been able to remember, looking at the ice has calmed me, and even now, years later, it still does.
It all began at the lake.
I found a new home in my college rink, and now, here, this place is my peace. Normally, I’d go in, but I’m not in the mood to see anyone. Right now, this bench outside the building will have to be enough.
Closing my eyes, I can see the ice in my head. I like to watch the kids skate. To see the joy it brings them, just like it did me. Watching them laughing on the ice, surrounded by family and friends, and the enjoyment they find makes my world feel not so empty.
I can’t explain it.
For me, the ice has been a symbol of many things.
Freedom. Skill. Determination.
But it was never about laughter.
When I was young, it was an escape, then it was a means to an end. Now, it’s about the control I yield on the ice.
The longer I sit here, the looser my muscles get.
It’s like I can think because I’m most relaxed.
And the more I think, the more I know I handled things really bad.
She lied, and I have every right to be angry, but I shouldn’t have walked away.
That’s the very thing everyone else has ever done.
