Page 37 of O Goalie Night
“So we’re good?”
She regards me for a long moment before nodding. “We’re good.”
From her hesitation I get the distinct impression that we’re not one hundred percent, but I’m not going to pull on that thread right now. “Good.”
Beth takes a seat on a stool at the breakfast nook before asking, “What are you up to today?”
I glance at my watch before responding, “I’ve got ice time booked in less than an hour.”
“Ah. Just you?”
“Just us.”
“Hmmm?”
“You’re coming with me.”
Her head tilts to the side and she looks up at me like I’m speaking in foreign tongues. “Why would I go with you to your practice?”
“Because it’s not my practice, it’s yours. Beth Michaels, today you learn how to skate.”
Her entire body freezes, with the exception of her face which contorts into an expression so horrified, it’s almost comical.
“Oh…no. No. No. Thank you, but that’s going to be a no.”
“Beth–”
“Absolutely not, Foster.”
“Why not?” I was expecting reluctance, not outright refusal.
“Ohhh, so many reasons,” her laughter is forced as she hops off the stool and walks around me to pour herself some coffee.
“Such as?”
Turning on me with a stony look in her eyes she says, “I don’t want to.”
I don’t buy it for a second.
“You said that you needed to learn for work.”
“I’m sure I can think of a way to get out of Skate Day. And even if I can’t, it’s my problem to deal with, not yours.”
I open my mouth to argue more, when the reality of the situation hits me: once again, I’m taking the decision out of her hands instead of letting her fight her own battles. Once again, I assumed that she wanted me to swoop in and solve her problems for her.
Gramps was right. Everyone fucks up and I am on a roll.
“Of course. I honestly thought I was helping. If you don’t want to learn to skate, I’m not going to push the issue. I’m sorry, again.”
Beth sets her mug down, rests her elbows on the counter, and buries her face in her hands. “No, I’m sorry for being an asshole. I do want to learn,” she groans through her fingers. “But it’s too late for me. I’m too old.”
I let out a bark of laughter and she lifts her head to glare at me. “I’m sorry, but you’re twenty-six years old. That’s not too old.”
“It’s too old to learn basic things like skating, swimming, or how to ride a bike.”
I shake my head. “One of my goalie coaches just learned how to swim last year. He’s thirty-seven.” When she gives me a dubious look, I continue, “I swear. He wanted to do a triathlon before he turned forty so he had to take swimming lessons.”
She worries her bottom lip as she mulls this information over. I’m dying to sell her on this, but I hold my tongue not wanting to push her into something she doesn’t want to do.
