She caught a cab to the gallery and spotted Mark standing outside the doors. He was holding a to-go cup, no doubt her favorite smoothie, and when he saw her, he hailed her with a wide grin. Despite her condition, she was certain she’d made the right call.
* * *
“Do you think we’ll be able to skate?” Maggie asked when they arrived at Rockefeller Center and saw the crowds overflowing the rink. “I didn’t even consider the idea we might need reservations.”
“I called this morning,” Mark assured her. “It’s all set up.”
Mark found a place for her to sit while he went to wait in line and Maggie sipped her smoothie, thinking the third pill had done the trick. She felt a bit loopy but not as ebullient as earlier; in any case, the pain had diminished to an almost tolerable level. Moreover, she actually felt warm for the first time in what seemed like forever. Though she could see her breath, she wasn’t shivering and her fingers didn’t ache, for a change.
The smoothie was going down easily as well, which was a relief. She knew she needed every calorie, and wasn’t that ironic? After a lifetime of watching what she ate and groaning every time the scale ticked a pound upward, now that she actually needed calories, they were almost impossible to ingest. Lately, she was afraid to get on the scale because she was terrified to see how much weight she’d lost. Beneath her clothes, she was turning into a skeleton.
But enough of the doom and gloom. Mesmerized by the mass of moving bodies on the ice, she only vaguely heard her phone ding. Reaching into her pocket, she saw that Mark had texted, saying that he was on his way back so he could escort her to the rink and help her with her skates.
In the past, his offer of assistance would have humiliated her. But the fact was, she doubted she’d be able to put on the skates without his help. When he reached her, he offered his arm and the two of them walked slowly down the steps to the changing area, where they’d don their skates.
Even though he was supporting her, she felt like the wind would topple her over.
* * *
“Do you want me to keep holding you?” Mark asked. “Or do you think you have the hang of it?”
“Don’t even think of letting go,” she replied through gritted teeth.
Adrenaline, amplified by fear, had a way of clearing the mind, and she decided that ice skating was much better as a concept than in practice. Trying to stay upright on two thin blades over a slippery sheet of ice while in her condition hadn’t been the brightest of ideas. In fact, a pretty strong case could be made that it was idiotic.
And yet…
Mark made it as easy and safe as possible. He was skating backward in front of her, both hands firmly on her hips. They were near the outer edge of the rink and moving slowly; inside, pretty much everyone from little old ladies to toddlers was zipping past, looking carefree and joyous. But with Mark’s help, at least, Maggie was gliding. There were a few people who, like Maggie, clearly had never donned ice skates before, and they gripped the outer wall with every slow shuffle, their legs occasionally shooting out in unpredictable directions.
Ahead of them, Maggie witnessed just such an incident.
“I really don’t want to fall.”
“You’re not going to fall,” Mark said, his eyes fixed on her skates. “I’ve got you.”
“You can’t see where you’re going,” she protested.
“I’m using my peripheral vision,” he explained. “Just let me know if someone takes a tumble right in front of us.”
“How long do we have?”
“Thirty minutes,” he said.
“I don’t think I’ll be able to last that long.”
“We’ll stop whenever you want.”
“I forgot to give you my credit card. Did you pay for this?”
“It was my treat. Now stop talking and try to enjoy yourself.”
“Almost falling every second isn’t enjoyable.”
“You’re not going to fall,” he said again. “I’ve got you.”
* * *
“That was fun!” Maggie exclaimed. In the changing area, Mark had just helped her remove her skates. Though she hadn’t asked, he’d also helped her put her shoes back on. In all, they’d circled the rink four times, which had taken thirteen minutes.
“I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
“Now I can say I actually did the big New York tourist thing.”
“Yes, you can.”
“Did you have a chance to see the tree? Or were you too busy keeping me from breaking my neck?”
“I saw it,” he said. “But barely.”
“You should go skate. You still have a few minutes.”
To her surprise, he actually seemed to consider it. “Would you mind?”
“Not at all.”
After helping her up—and offering his arm—he walked her to the side of the rink and made sure she could support herself before letting go. “You okay?”
“Go ahead. Let’s see how you do without a sick old woman slowing you down.”
“You’re not old.” He winked, and duckwalking over to the ice, he took three or four quick steps, speeding into the turn. He jumped, rotating in the air, and started skating backward while accelerating even faster, flying beneath the tree on the far side of the rink. He spun again, speeding forward into the next curve, one hand nearly at the ice, then flew past her. Almost automatically, she retrieved her iPhone from her pocket. She waited until he was beneath the tree and snapped off a couple of photos; on the next lap, she shot video.
A few minutes later, after the session ended and Mark was in the changing area, she took a peek at the photos and found herself thinking about the shot she’d taken of Bryce on the ladder. Just as she’d done back then, she’d seemed to capture the essence of the young man she’d come to know. Like Bryce, Mark had also become strangely important to her in a relatively short period. And yet, as she’d had to with Bryce, she knew she’d eventually have to say goodbye to Mark as well, which suddenly made her ache in a way that eclipsed the physical pain lurking in her bones.
* * *
Once they were back on solid ground, she texted the pictures and video to Mark and they had a stranger snap an additional shot of the two of them with the tree in the background. Mark immediately began fiddling with the phone, no doubt forwarding the images.
“Abigail?” Maggie asked.
“And my parents.”
“I’m sure they’re missing you this Christmas.”
“I think they’re having the time of their lives.”
She pointed to the restaurant adjacent to the rink. “Is it okay with you if we swing by the Sea Grill? I think I’d like a hot tea at the bar.”
“Whatever you’d like.”
She hooked her arm through Mark’s and walked slowly to the glass-enclosed restaurant. She told the bartender what she wanted and Mark ordered the same thing. When the teapot was placed before her, she poured some of the tea into her cup.
“You’re an excellent skater.”
“Thanks. Abigail and I go sometimes.”
“Did she like the photo you texted?”