Page 104 of ClickBack

A man recognizes me by the rail and asks for a picture. I take it, then ask whether he has any advice.

“Loosen up.”

“Everybody keeps telling me that.”

“Everybody’s right.”

He gives me a push I did not request. I make half a lap on spite and manage the rest because Giselle comes up beside me, laughing so hard she can barely offer instruction.

Later, she drops onto the bench next to me. Her face is warm, and one foot keeps moving with the music while she takes the drink I bought her. She hands it back after a swallow and leans her forehead against my shoulder.

“Thank you,” she says.

I kiss her hair. “You’re welcome.”

She stays there until the DJ changes the song. Then she is on her feet again, holding out her hand.

“Come on. We have work to do.”

Outside, I carry her skates while she gives Graves an account of my progress that would hurt more if it weren’t accurate. I insist I recovered from the last near fall. She says windmilling is not a recognized technique.

The driver takes us to the Varsity for food before the airport. Giselle orders a hot dog, onion rings, and a Frosted Orange, then takes the first bite with the concentration of somebody checking a memory.

“Well?” I ask.

“I’m deciding.”

Graves reaches toward her onion rings. She moves the tray.

“I decided about those already.”

By the time we board the plane, she has put the skates back in their box herself. She chooses the seat beside me and settles against my arm while Graves puts his headphones on. I look down at her feet.

“Still glad you came?”

“My feet would like to submit a separate answer.”

I laugh and kiss her. She closes her eyes, then opens them again.

“I liked you watching me.”

“At the rink?”

“Yes.”

“You could see me?”

“Jarrett. You’re large and unsubtle.”

“I was across the floor.”

“You were still large.”

I pull her closer. She rests her hand against my chest, and I feel her smile there before she says, “You can take me again.”

“Same place?”

“Tell me where it is first.”