Page 117 of Ice Darling
Pushing forward despite the doubts, I whisper, “Gordie?”
Her body doesn’t move, but her eyes latch onto me. The strain in them makes me want to give her a hug.
“Can I come in?”
She doesn’t answer.
I wiggle under the table anyway. My work boots drop dust and grass particles along the way, but I ignore it. I should have taken my shoes off at the door, but I was too worried, and it’s too late now.
“Hey,” I say softly.
She blinks a few times.
I lick my lips. “I?—”
Gordie dips her head down into her arms to hide her face from me. She’s already so small, and when she folds into herself like that, she practically disappears. I could pick her up and stow her in the storage space under my bike seat and still have room.
Unsure of what to do now, I look back at Renthrow. A muscle in his jaw ticks, and he gestures to Vinnie and her mom.
“Do you ladies mind if we go to the living room for a second?”
“I want to stay with Gordie!” Vinnie whines.
“Please,” Renthrow says in a voice that’s both firm and gentle.
“Come on, Vinnie.” The mother takes Vinnie’s hand and leads her out. Renthrow follows them.
Gordie’s shoulders relax when the room empties, and I realize that Renthrow had been able to understand what his daughter needed without her having to say a word.
My perspective shifts in that moment. Rather than panic about how unworthy I am to be this little girl’s friend, I instead focus on what Gordie needs.
I tentatively start, “Gordie, why are you under the table?”
Her head remains tucked into her arms.
I wipe my sweaty palms against Renthrow’s sweatshirt. I’m more nervous now than I was that time I had to give an end-of-year speech at a Davenport charity gala.
How do I give Gordie what she needs?
I think back to the night Renthrow snapped me out of my thoughts of Gwen. He’d been able to distract me by being vulnerable and honest.
Using his words from that night, I say softly, “Do you want to know my deepest, darkest secret?”
Gordie’s head pops up.
“Remember I told you about my sister last time?”
“You built forts together,” the little girl mumbles, her eyes starting to gain a bit more light.
“My sister’s name was Gwen. Short for Gwendolyn.”
Gordie scrunches her nose. “Gwend-o…”
“…Lyn,” I help her sound out the name. “She wasn’t only my sister. She was my best friend, but when we got older, Gwen wanted to do things apart from me. And we spent less and less time together.”
I pause. The memories rise like a wave in the distance, building and building with each word. I know it’s going to crash down on me. I know the knifing sensation will be here soon.
But Gordie’s listening keenly. I can see her coming back to herself.
