Page 98 of Ice Darling
“Yeah, we’re hoping to bring everyone back together, so we at least have a shot at competing for a league spot as the OG team.”
“I hope that works out,” Rebel says. “Cuts can be ruthless. I don’t know how the team can survive this.”
“We’re family. We have to try.”
Rebel and April both nod.
I move closer to where Cordelia is. Gordie is rambling nonstop about the new facts she’s learned about motorcycles, and it seems like there won’t be a conclusion anytime soon.
“Gordie, remember why we’re here. Let’s start your interview quickly.”
“Okay, Daddy!”
“We’ll do it around the table,” April offers. She smiles at Gordie. “Rebel bought some Hello Kitty cups for us to drink out of while you ask us your questions.”
“Thank you!” Gordie says.
The two women melt.
Gordie and Cordelia pick their way through the cars in the outdoor garage and head to the table near the front of the tent.
I notice Cordelia offering her hand to my daughter and leading her away from an exposed engine on the grass. It’s a thoughtful move, and I can’t help but smile.
When they get closer, I greet Cordelia. “Hey.”
“Hey.” She barely nods at me and turns to Gordie. “I need to wash my hands. They’re dirty.” She shows her palms as evidence. “Do you want to wash your hands with me?”
“Mm-hm!” Gordie excitedly hops beside Cordelia.
I watch them walk away in confusion.What’s going on?
Thinking that her stand-offishness is in my head, I make more of an effort to pay attention to Cordelia.
When she runs out of pink lemonade, I refill her Hello Kitty paper cup and wait expectantly for her to acknowledge me.
She does. Very politely. But then she doesn’t touch her drink at all.
Later, she fans her face, indicating that she’s hot under the tent. I bounce to my feet and adjust the large, solar-powered fans so they’re pointing in her direction.
But then she switches seats with my daughter to be out of the fan’s direct line.
I don’t think I’m imagining this.
After the interview, Cordelia and Gordie walk to the door. I follow, quietly waiting for a chance to have a chat with Cordelia too.
I keep looking at her face, searching for any indication that she’s happy to see me or that this moodiness isn’t personal. But that sign never comes, and I’m left reeling with unease. It feels unnatural to be this close to her and yet feel so far away.
I contemplate what to do next. Should I sweep her up in my arms again like I did the day I took her to the hospital? She was piping-hot mad that day, but at least she was looking at me.
The instinct grows, but I tuck my hands into my pockets and try to remember that I’m a civilized man.
“I want to ride your bike,” Gordie says, pointing to the intimidating machine on the lawn.
“Sorry. Your daddy doesn’t want you riding bikes.”
Is that why she’s mad? Did I offend her when I said I didn’t want Gordie riding a motorcycle?
I step forward. “Motorcycles are dangerous for kids. And teenagers. But I have no problem with adults who ride.”
