Page 39 of Breaking the Ice

“Oh, there's actually something. Dump the slut and come back to me. Maybe then I'll reconsider whether or not to fire her.”

“That's out of the question!”

“Well, then,” she says sharply, “I suggest you make a decision quickly. You have until tomorrow evening at ten o'clock.” She gets up and looks down at me coldly. “Don't even think I'm bluffing. I have nothing to lose. Decide against your little girlfriend, or I'll make sure my father makes your life a living hell and ends your career.”

I knew she would say that; I don't need to hear more. Now I get up too.

“Leave, now!” My harsh tone doesn't surprise her. On the contrary, she shrugs her slender shoulders and totters to the door. Once there, she sighs and turns to me one last time.

“You know, Caleb, you really should seriously consider whether you want to jeopardize your future for some girl. Just think how hard your way into the pro league was. There isn’t a pussy in the world who is worth risking your career for.” With that, she grabs the doorknob and disappears for good.

21

Emma

After Caleb drops me off at the ice rink, the uneasy feeling that has been bothering me since early this morning intensifies. I'm shaky and my hands are cold. All morning, I feel out of sorts. God, I fervently hope that Jessica will be willing to talk. I can't eat anything during the lunch break, which worries Dad. I tell him I'm not feeling well, which isn't even a lie, as my stomach feels far from healthy. Shortly after half past three, my last massage for today comes to an end. Now, a terrible tension overwhelms me, knowing that Caleb will soon meet with Jessica. To distract myself, I go shopping. Caleb and I have plans to meet at my place at eight tonight. I want to officially introduce him to Dad as my new boyfriend over dinner. As I wander through the aisles of the supermarket, gathering all the ingredients for lasagna, I keep glancing at my phone. No messages, no calls. It's driving me crazy! When I get home, I put away the groceries and send Dad a text reminding him of dinner at eight. It's half past four now. Are they still talking? I decide to distract myself with housework. After all, I want everything to be neat when Caleb comes over tonight. An hour later, I can't take it anymore and I text him.

*Everything okay with you? How did the conversation with Jessica go?

With a pounding heart, I wait for a reply. But it doesn't come. I tell myself he's probably at practice and hasn't seen my message yet. Then I start making the lasagna so it'll be ready on time.

Seven minutes past eight, my dad arrives. “Sorry, I'm late! Bill talked me into having a beer after practice!” he calls from the hallway. “Mmm, that already smells delicious,” he praises and comes into the kitchen to me. When he sees me sitting at the set table, arms wrapped around my stomach, aching with worry, he stops abruptly.

“Emma? What's wrong, what's going on? And where's Caleb?”

“He's not here.”

“I can see that. But why? I was sure he'd be here by now. He even skipped practice. I thought you'd be cooking together.”

“He skipped practice?” Has something happened to him? Suddenly I panic, thinking Jessica might have done something to him. It wouldn't be beyond that crazy woman.

“Yeah, Bill's pretty mad about it. The guys have their first playoff game coming up. Training sessions are crucial.”

That's true, and it's so unlike Caleb to miss training. I'm about to get up to go look for him when my phone, sitting next to me on the table, beeps. With a dreadful feeling, I pick it up and see that I've received a text. It's from Caleb.

*Have to cancel dinner, something's come up.

A fiery pain shoots through my stomach as I realize: I've worried for nothing. He's fine, he just doesn't want to see me. With tears in my eyes, I stare at the screen. Meanwhile, Dad grabs a chair and sits directly in front of me.

“Emma, I want to know what's going on now. Please, sweetheart, talk to me.” I swallow the painful lump in my throat and lift my gaze. A single tear rolls down my cheek as I look into Dad's warm eyes.

“Let me be your anchor, just like you are mine,” he says softly, placing his hand on my knee. And with that, the dam breaks. I nod and tearfully tell him about Caleb and me. How we got together and how he means more to me than anyone before. I also tell him about Jessica, her demand, and how Caleb tried to talk to her again today. He listens attentively, furrowing his brow when I show him the text where Caleb cancels our dinner.

I pour out all my heartache. Finally, I let Dad hold me in his arms and comfort me. Then he serves himself a plate of lasagna and we go to the living room. While he settles into his chair, I lie down on the couch. I have a terrible headache. My father reassures me, saying I have to wait and see what tomorrow brings. Maybe everything will turn out for the better. In his eyes, Jessica is nothing more than a spoiled brat used to getting what she wants. He believes Mr. Flake is sensible enough not to fire me just because his girl demands it. His deep voice is soothing to me. Eventually, I grow sleepy, so Dad gets my bedding and tucks me in. I know him, he'll sit up late in front of the TV, keeping watch over me. That's why I love him. He's there for me when I'm feeling down.

“Sleep well, my darling,” he whispers, brushing the back of his hand against my cheek.

“Dad?” I say with heavy eyelids.

“Hm?”

“It looks like we've both been betrayed, doesn't it?”

“Let's hope not,” he replies solemnly. “Now sleep, I'm here.” He gives me his everything-will-be-alright smile and settles back into his chair. Then he quietly turns on the TV and starts eating his now-cold lasagna.

The next morning, he wakes me up at eight o'clock. I immediately check my phone, but to my disappointment, there's neither a text nor a call from Caleb. Unable to bear the uncertainty any longer, I call him, but he doesn't pick up. I leave him a voicemail, asking him to call me back. Then I get ready for work. Dad forces me to eat something before we head to the ice rink. Arriving there, I feel desolate and empty, much like the gloomy gray sky over Portland. Alongside my father, I descend the stairs to our massage rooms.

“Don't freak out, Emma,” he pleads as we walk down the hallway and turn the corner. “You'll see...” He stops abruptly and stands still when he spots Jessica and Mr. Flake in front of my massage room.

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