Page 4 of Breaking the Ice

Her smiling face falls. “Oh, I’m sorry, we just sold the last of that one.” She points to the massive carton in front of me, and sure enough, it’s been scraped clean. My heart sinks.

“That’s okay.” My mom squeezes my arm. “It’s good to try new things. I’ll have…” She trails off, surveying her options. “Cake Batter Fudge.”

I scan my options while they scoop hers out. With a little bob of her head, my mom takes the giant cone from the girl behind the counter and gives it a lick. “Delicious.”

But I don’t want to try something new. I want what I like. “Do you have any Maple Nut?” That’s close to Butter Pecan, right?

The girl’s blonde ponytail swings as she shakes her head. “Sorry, that one is also out of stock.”

“Pistachio Nut?” I ask.

“Nope.”

Good Lord. What is happening here? With an exaggerated sigh, I point to Black Cherry, behind the empty container of Butter Pecan. It’s full to the brim. “That one?”

“Sure.”

Within seconds, I’m licking my own cone to keep it from dripping on my hand. Pink and dotted with bits of cherries, it does not look appealing. But it turns out to be the perfect combination of sweet and sour that has me coming back for more.

“Let’s sit.” My mom waves her cone at an empty booth, and I slide in across from her. “So what was bothering you during the game?”

“What? Nothing was bothering me.” She hands me a napkin, and I wipe a dab off my nose.

“Uh-huh. I know you. I know when you’re upset, and when you’re lying.” She gazes at me, unwavering, until I drop my eyes to the Formica table.

“Dad called me before the game started.”

“Really?” She raises a pale brow. “What did he want?”

“For me to tutor one of his players.” I scoff. “But there’s no way⁠—”

“Why not?”

Seriously? Why does she have to take his side?

“Mom, the guy’s in one of my classes. Although I’m not sure he knows that, because he shows up late and sleeps through everything.” I don’t mention that I’ve noticed because he’s gorgeous with eyes I want to drown in and always clad head-to-toe in hockey merch. “He’s a slacker and I’m not wasting my time on him.”

“Your dad must see a different side of him. He doesn’t suffer slackers.”

She’s not wrong. “Well, I don’t have time. Musical practices are really ramping up. I need to start memorizing my lines. The show is less than a month away.”

“True. But it could be a great way to connect with your dad.”

I take a bite of my ice cream and squirm in my seat. The vinyl is slippery against my leggings.

It’s no secret that my dad and I are not close. Hockey is his true passion. He taught me to ice skate when I was little, but figure skating was more my style than hockey. I was okay at it, but when my body changed, turned curvy and solid, I wanted to avoid those unflattering costumes like I avoid germs from students in my practicums. I moved on to other things. My dad didn’t understand and didn’t try to find any additional common ground. He’s always been tighter with my step-brothers. They played hockey and he got into coaching because of them, although they live half the country away these days. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t know what to do with a daughter who’s into musical theater.

I’ve loved music for as long as I can remember. I started piano lessons when I was five, guitar at ten, and vocal lessons as a teen. I found my passion and didn’t miss figure skating one bit. I played the flute in the high school marching band and had a starring role in every musical or play my drama department put on. Having someone else’s words to fall back on takes away my normal reticence and gives me confidence.

When it came time to pick a career path, musical theater was the clear choice. I went to school in Pennsylvania for it…and that’s when everything fell apart. It was fine in high school when I got the best roles, but in a big school like Eastern Penn? I was told that with my body shape, I could only ever be a character actor, not a leading lady. It rattled me. I decided to switch my major to music education. I can be like Mrs. Gerkin, my high school choir director. I’ll inspire other girls and give them confidence. Perhaps I’ll teach the next Idina Menzel. Teaching is a different kind of challenge, but I love it. And I can still participate in the department productions.

Unfortunately, Eastern Penn doesn’t have a music education major. Only music performance. I could have tried to cobble something together, but it would have taken five or six years to graduate. Extra loans? No thanks. And Harrison happens to have a great education department. So here I am, back at home. To the delight of my mother.

Her words about connecting with my dad hit me square in the chest. Shouldn’t I want to build a closer relationship with him? My friend Lacey’s dad just passed away from pancreatic cancer. She’d give anything to have more time with him.

My mom tilts her head. “Your dad wouldn’t have asked you if he didn’t think it would be good for you.”

Good for him, she means. Because his hockey team always comes first. Always has. My heart soared tonight when I saw his name on my phone screen… and then sank when I realized it wasn’t really about me at all, but what I can do for his team.