“I’ve stood up for every skater who isn’t number one. Who maybe doesn’t even care about being number one. Ms. Ormand can have all the Hannahs and the people who suck the joy out of skating. I want us to do what we’re best at.”
“So, you are willing to gamble everything on one last-ditch effort to turn this rink around?” Dad comes to stand in front of me. He looks down at Jonah’s and my hands, but neither of us let go. “What about your dream?”
“I haven’t given up on my dream, but I’m willing to be number two for a while to keep Ice Dreams open.”
“You would rather we sell our house than the rink.” Mom’s voice echoes in the empty rink as she shuffles across the floor to us.
“Yes. I would sleep on a cot in your office and shower at school if it meant we could keep Ice Dreams open a little longer.”
“What do you think, Midori?” Dad takes Mom’s hand. “Ice Dreams has always been your baby more than mine.”
“But maybe it’s time to let my babies grow up and fly away from the nest.” Mom looks from me to Mack to Jonah, tears welling up in her eyes.
An awkward silence falls across the rink. My heart pounds in my ears. We all stand at a crossroads. Each of us with a different path to take.
“Maybe we should—” Mom says, as Axl Rose suddenly screams from Jonah’s pocket.
“I am so sorry. That’s my mom.” Jonah scrambles to free his phone from his pocket and puts it up to his ear. “Hey, Mom. Hold on a sec, please.” He looks at my parents. “I know I don’t get a vote here, but I want to thank you for this. All of this. If you need to sell the rink, I understand, but I—” Jonah’s voice cracks. “I … Thanks. Just. Thanks.”
As Jonah rushes out the door, talking to his mom on the phone, Mack packs up her laptop.
“I know I don’t get a vote either, but … what the kid said.” Mack clears her throat and backs up. “All of it.”
“Come. Sit down. We need to talk. The three of us.” Dad gently ushers Mom to Table #1. “I’ll make us some tea.”
I slide in across the table from Mom. She looks as bad as I feel. We sit in silence. The last heated words we exchanged hang between us. Dad delivers a round of tea and slides into the table. He looks at Mom and then me.
“I’ve obviously missed something here.” Dad blows on his tea. “Anybody care to clue me in?”
“Our daughter is mad because I didn’t give her permission to go to LA with Stuart. Now she’s going to be even madder because she’s grounded for the next month for disobeying me.”
“You still don’t get it!” I slap my palms down on the table, making my hot tea slosh out of the cup. “I went to LA to prove you wrong. To prove my inner critic wrong too. That I’m not a washed-up has-been at sixteen. And guess what?” I pull Mr. Hale’s business card out of my pocket and smack it in the middle of the table. “Mr. Hale thinks I’m a one-in-a-million skater, even if you two don’t.”
“So I heard at seven thirty this morning when Walter called to tell me all about the new idea that had kept him up all night.” Mom picks up the business card and flips it through her fingers. “He also doesn’t want to lose his headliner, Mike. And since Walter thinks Olivia has given up on her dream of being an Olympian, he’s changed his mind and wants to create a Father-Daughter number. ‘We’ll even create a special promo for the whole month of June to celebrate Father’s Day. His fans will eat it up, Midori—and buy the T-shirt!’” Mom sighs. “Maybe after I have this surgery, I should hang up my skates for good and close the rink. Maybe it’s time for my dream to come to an end. I know I sound like a washed-up has-been. And there is a truth to that too, as ugly as it is. Maybe it’s time to free you two from the burden that comes with living my dream instead of yours.”
“Midori, this is not a burden. You are not a burden. My dream at nineteen years old was to win a gold medal at the Olympics, buy a bangin’ BMW with a sweet sound system, and get my face on a box of Wheaties.” Dad reaches his hand across the table to take Mom’s. “And talk my best friend into marrying me one day. Check, check, check, and…” Dad points at the box of Wheaties in the snack bar with his free hand. “Check. Everything else that has come with this roller coaster of a life has been icing on the cake. Well, except the part about trading in my bangin’ BMW for a minivan.” Dad laughs at his own joke, though nobody else does. Dad takes one of my hands too. “So, if you want to sell the rink and officially retire or keep the rink and send us out on the road for a while, I’ll do whatever it takes to keep our little family going. I’m all yours. I’ve always been all yours.”
Mom’s exterior begins to melt, but then it immediately hardens again. “Then why is Faina texting me all of a sudden after twenty years saying she wants to talk to me? And who gave her my number?”
“I did,” I say. “I put you down as my emergency contact out of habit.”
Something telegraphs between my parents. Something that makes my mom’s eyebrows furrow.
“She wants to talk about Olivia,” Dad says. “That’s it.”
“Faina says she can open the door for me at the Broadmoor Skating Club in Colorado Springs,” I say. “If I have the courage to walk through it.”
Mom looks at me. “And do you? Because if you’ve got the guts to back up the raw talent that Walter and Faina can clearly see—even if I’ve been blind to it—then it’s definitely time to let go of my dream so our family can pursue yours.”
“And an Olympic run is going to be an all-hands-on-deck kind of commitment, Livy. For years. Just so you know what you are getting yourself—and us—into.”
“And then there’s the problem of finding a new partner. Walter told me Stuart is definitely going out on tour with them in the new year.”
“I don’t need a partner. I want to go back to being a single skater. But I want to save the rink first,” I say.
“Honey, you don’t have to do that for me,” Mom says.
“I am and I’m not. I’m doing it for me too. And for Mack. And for Jonah. For all the people who believe in Ice Dreams over Ice Business. Whether they are the Red Hat ladies doing Zumba or derby girls dry-land training with our favorite speedy boi or first graders who just want to skate for the fun of it. We can’t compete against Gold Medal Ice. And I don’t want to. I want to do what we do best.”
“YES!” Mack’s voice echoes across the rink. “Sorry. I’m not eavesdropping. I just left my phone in the snack bar. I’ll be out of your business in a sec.”
“Annabelle.” Mom pats the empty seat in our square.
“No, I couldn’t.”
“Yes, you could,” I say. “I need a wingwoman on this.”
“Go get your laptop and I’ll make you some tea.” Dad heads toward the snack bar. “I want to see the presentation you created that Ms. Ormand so rudely dismissed.”
“You got it, boss.” Mack’s lip ring clinks against her bottom teeth as a huge smile lights up her face. “Also, I should give you guys a heads-up that the Chois—all of ’em—are in the parking lot. They’re having a spirited debate about whether Jonah is going to Utah this year or not.” When Mom turns her whole body to look at her, Mack says, “Totally not eavesdropping. They left their windows cracked.”