Page 77 of Canadian Boyfriend

I almost laughed. Apparently she wasn’t looking for Mike Martin, hockey player, but Mike Martin, coat check guy. “Oh yeah, she did, but then she told me to come here instead.”

“Well, you’re off duty. Sharon”—she gestured at the woman with her—“is taking over.”

“You sure? I thought I was on till nine.”

“We have more parent volunteers than we know what to do with, so you’re off the hook.” She made eye contact with me for the first time, made a funny face, and said, “Run! Save yourselves!”

I felt kind of bad for having assumed the worst about this woman. “Thanks.”

“I need to find Olivia,” Aurora said.

Right. I’d forgotten that Aurora was not in fact here to chat about our high school experiences but to deliver a pair of shoes to my child. “Come on, we’ll find her, then get out of here.” My beverage station was tucked into a corner that was semiobscured by the gym’s retracted bleachers, and when we rounded it, we spotted Olivia standing at the edge of the dance floor near the DJ, who was playing a peppy song I didn’t know at near deafening levels.

“Hi!” she said as we approached. She was smiling and… barefoot? I opened my mouth to scold her, to tell her going barefoot in here was unsanitary and dangerous. But then I closed it. Decided to leave it alone as she thanked Aurora for the shoes and ran off.

The music ramped down to a ballad. Thiswasa teen movie, with a disco ball throwing off bursts of light and the kids transitioning from dancing in groups to either awkwardly slow dancing in pairs or standing at the sidelines. A ridiculous idea rose in my brain, and I let it out before I could overthink it. “Dance with me.”

“What?”

I held out my hand. “Come on. Let’s dance. It’s not the prom, but sometimes you gotta make do with what you have.”

“I’m wearing sweatpants!”

She was. They were an awfully cute pink tie-dye pattern, and though technically they were sweatpants, they weren’t the baggy type I favored. They weren’t baggyat all. “So?” I challenged.

She hesitated, and she was probably right. Everything she was about to say—this was a silly idea, we’d look like idiots—was true. And oh shit, I hadn’t thought about the possibility of a panic attack. She’d told me they tended to happen when she felt like people were watching and judging her.

I was about to start backpedaling when she shocked me by laughing—that high, melodious laugh of hers I liked so much—putting her hand in mine, and saying, “OK, you weirdo, let’s dance.”

It was a little awkward to start, as I pulled her close. She looked up at me, then quickly over my shoulder. I could feel my pulse kicking up. It was almost like the nervous energy being thrown off by the adolescent crowd was contagious. We settled, though, as we started to sway. I remembered that time we’d talked about dancing, and hockey, and what we got from our respective pursuits. I’d stumbled through saying that, sometimes, hockey made me feel like I was in sync with the universe.Somehow, having Aurora Lake in my arms on a dance floor in a school gym full of tweens made me feel that way, too.

“Do you know what song this is?” I asked.

“No.”

I tried to remember the lyrics so I could look it up later. Why did I want to look it up later? Because I wanted to remember this moment, to create enough of a sense memory that I could revisit it. Because I was happy.

The last week of school, I called a dinner meeting regarding the summer schedule. I invited Aurora since one of the items on the agenda was whether Olivia wanted to do a summer dance camp at Miss Miller’s. She hadn’t last year, in the wake of the accident, but she had previously.

“What’s for dinner?” Olivia asked as she clattered into the kitchen followed by Aurora.

I picked up the recipe card that had come with the meal kit I’d just cooked. Since the season ended, I’d vowed we would eat less takeout and more real food, but so far my skills had only expanded as far as kits that came with everything prechopped. “Barramundi tacos with pico de gallo.”

“Barrawhat?”

“Fish tacos,” Aurora said to Olivia, and to me: “Do you need any help?”

“Nope, all done. Let’s eat here.” I patted the island, where I had a calendar laid out. I explained my summer philosophy as I handed out waters and cutlery. “As far as I’m concerned, this is the summer of fun. I have to stay in shape, but I can fit in workouts with whatever else we’re doing.” I slid a plate to Olivia. “Let’s pencil in any camps you want to do, then we’llfigure out when we’re going to Manitoba. Do you want to do dance camp at Miss Miller’s?”

Olivia said, “Yes!” at the same time that Aurora said, “Registration for dance camp opened in March.”

Shit. “Really?” Yet another ball I had dropped. “Is it full?”

“It is, but luckily you have an in.”

Damn. “Thank you.”

“I was thinking we’d go to see Nana and Pop at the very end of the summer,” I said to Olivia. “School starts later this year since Labor Day is so late.”

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