Page 114 of Goal Line
AJ eyes Lauren’s bag with the tops of her skates peeking out. “Neither did you.”
Lauren coughs out a laugh. “Touché. But Idon’tskate.”
“All evidence to the contrary,” AJ says, with her trademarkno-nonsense tone, before a concerned look passes over her face and she softens her voice to ask, “You’re really getting back on the ice?”
“I’m going to put these skates on,” Lauren says, lifting her shoulders in a shrug. “And we’ll see from there.”
As Lauren plops down onto the bench and removes a fairly new-looking pair of skates, I chat with AJ, asking her about how she got involved with hockey. She tells me about playing in college, then coaching college hockey, then working for St. Louis as a scout and eventually moving over to operations. “I was the assistant GM there before Frank brought me to Boston to be the GM.”
“Single-handedly rebuilding the organization,” Lauren adds, so obviously proud of her friend.
“There was nothing single-handed about it,” AJ says. “I just brought the right people in to do the best job they could, and now it’s all paying off.”
“Yousingle-handedlybrought the right people in,” Lauren adds, before looking at me. “She’s way too humble.”
“I know I’m good at my job, and I don’t need to brag about it. If that’s being humble, then okay. Speaking of which, I need to go get started on said job. The rink is all yours. Skating lessons start at eight, so unless you want an audience, you’ve got the rink to yourselves for the next half hour or so before all the little kids start showing up to get their gear on.”
AJ hops off the ice and removes her skates with the speed and precision I’m sure comes from years of experience. Then she says goodbye as Lauren and I continue lacing up our own skates. Once we’re done, I ask the question that’s been burning in my mind since I talked to Lynette about Lauren’saccident. “When you said you don’t skateanymore, does that mean you haven’t skated at all since...”
She shakes her head, then sighs. “Well, I did once. With Jameson. But I wouldn’t call it skating so much as squeezing my eyes shut and letting him drag me around the ice.”
I glance back down at her nearly pristine skates. “Are those skates not broken in, then?”
“They are. He had Morgan break them in for me before he ‘surprised’ me,” she says, using air quotes, “with a trip here one night.”
“Jameson brought youhere?” I ask, and then I remember that he used to play for the Rebels, years before my dad started coaching the team.
“He arranged it with AJ, I later learned,” she tells me as she stands, resting her hands on the top of the boards in front of her and surveying the ice. I stand next to her, one hand resting under my belly where Baby Squash has suddenly decided to do somersaults. “I don’t know if I can do this,” she whispers.
“Maybe you can’t,” I say lightly, lifting a shoulder in a small shrug that I hope lets her know there’s no pressure. “And if not, that’s okay. But you won’t know unless you try.”
“It’s the trying that’s terrifying.”
“Anything worthwhile is usually at least a little bit scary.” I start talking about finding out I was pregnant, and having no idea what it would mean for my skating career, as I step out onto the ice and turn to face her, holding both my hands out to her.
She chews her bottom lip as she looks at my hands, and then, closing her eyes, takes a fortifying breath. As her shoulders relax, she opens her eyes and says, “I’m just going tohold on to the wall. I could never forgive myself if I fell and pulled you down with me.”
“Whatever you’re comfortable with. But also . . . ” I pause, waiting for her to look at me. When she does, I tell her, “You’re not going to fall.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Just like you don’t know that youwill,” I say with a shrug. “Which is more likely?”
Lauren sighs. “Fine.” She sets her hand along the top edge of the boards and cautiously steps out onto the ice. I move back slightly to let her glide, so she’ll be less likely to fall from a jerky stop.
“How’s it feel to be out here?” I ask as I watch her fingers curl against the red plastic edge of the wall.
“Scary.”
“More or less scary than last time?” I ask.
“Both. Less, because it’s not the first time, and more, because Jameson’s not here holding me up.”
“Did he hold you up the whole time when you skated with him before?” I ask, holding my hands out to her.
She shakes her head, and then surprises me by taking my hands. I glide backward slowly, letting her get used to the feel of moving along the ice, but making sure that the wall is always in reach in case she feels like she needs it.
As we glide along, I continue talking to Lauren, mentioning things she surely already knows about skating. I use phrases like “remember” and “don’t forget” as I point out each technique because I’m trying not to treat her like she’s never skated before, even though she truly does seem like a novice.
