When My Heart Joins the Thousand by A. J. Steiger

Author:A. J. Steiger
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollinsPublishers
Published: 2017-12-09T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY

At five o’clock, I pick Stanley up from the park. Since his arm is in a sling, I drive, and he gives me directions. I can’t begin to guess where he’s taking us. When we finally pull into the parking lot, my confusion only increases.

Ahead is a large, open lawn surrounded by trees and illuminated by stadium lights. In the center, there’s a smooth, glassy surface encircled by a low fence. As we approach, I realize what I’m looking at, and I wonder if this is his peculiar idea of a joke. “This is an ice-skating rink.”

“Yep.”

“We don’t have skates.”

He points to a little wooden building with a peaked roof. “We can rent some in there. They sell hot chocolate, too.”

I stare at his cane, then at his broken arm. He just stands there, smiling. Apparently he’s not going to address the obvious—that for someone in his condition, ice-skating is about the most risky activity imaginable, outside of throwing himself repeatedly down the stairs.

“I don’t know how,” I say.

“That’s okay. I barely remember, either.”

He told me he used to skate as a child, until he broke his scapula. Does this have something to do with that? Probably. Even so, this seems like a foolish way of confronting his demons. Like a burn victim deciding to overcome his fear by setting his house on fire.

His smile fades. “I haven’t gone crazy, honest. I just want to go out and stand on the ice for a few minutes. I don’t really know how to explain this. It’s just something I need. And I thought . . .” A light flush rises into his cheeks. “I thought it would be easier, if you were with me.” He looks away. “I’m being kind of selfish, I guess. If you don’t want to do this, we don’t have to.”

My gaze wanders back to the rink, which is currently deserted. The ice looks solid, though the weather doesn’t seem cold enough for that. It’s probably not even real ice, I tell myself. Lots of rinks use a chemical substitute like high-density polyethylene. That would explain why it’s so hard, even though the temperature is above freezing. And even if it is water, there’s absolutely no risk of drowning; I just have to keep reminding myself of that.

“Let’s do it,” I say.

We rent two pairs of skates and sit on a bench.

The light of sunset has mostly faded, and colors are muted. The ring of stadium lights is on, but not at full power; they glow with a soft white radiance. All around us, snow falls in fat flakes, piling up on the bench and on our clothes and hair. I lace up my skates, then lean down to tie his, knotting them securely and looping the slack around his ankles for extra support. “Do they fit okay.”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

For a few minutes, he just stares out at the ice, his expression distant and closed off. I notice the fingers of one hand digging into his thigh. “Stanley .

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