Page 66 of Shining Through

Tabitha hurried to the front while Samara put Fiona’s wrapped gift aside and rushed to take one bag. “What is all this?”

“A little Christmas cheer! I thought we could use it.” She shot a pointed look at Tabitha who hadn’t been particularly cheerful these past weeks.

Tabitha unloaded the bag which held a cornucopia of fresh produce. Broccoli, onions, garlic, cauliflower, sweet potatoes. Leafy green herbs to supplement the spindly parsley and basil growing in pots in the living room. “Do you need any help?”

“Nope. All I need is for you two to get your butts out of here for a few hours. Go out to a movie, or a bar or something. Isn’t Danté’s band playing tonight?”

Samara rolled her eyes. “It’s Christmas Eve. And I’m not seeing Danté anymore, remember?”

“Oh right. We’re onto the movie guy with Rasta braids. What’s his name again?’

“Kieran. And he’s back in Denver, visiting his family.”

Tabitha took out a pound of unsalted butter, and set it beside the toasted pecans and dark syrup. Fiona was making pecan pie. Even a tiny sliver would be worth all the exercise to burn off the calories.

As Fiona and Samara continued to unpack the bags, Tabitha snuck a peak at her messages. There was no reply from Daniil. She set it down and realized that Samara was watching. Her sister gave a knowing look. “Checking movie times?”

“Nothing good is showing. But I know where we can go.”

They drove to the Beverly Ice Arena, through traffic clogged streets shiny with rain.

“Are you sure it’s even open?” asked Samara. She fiddled with the settings on her ancient video camera. She’d bought it at a flea market when she was fourteen, and was rediscovering it’s stripped down, low-tech quality, having used it for her documentary on homeless senior citizens. One judge had even praised the “insightful irony” of her equipment choice.

“Not to the public. But with Nationals three weeks away, people will pop into practice at odd hours. If you record me skating, Peter will know I practiced while he was away.”

Her coach was off spending the holiday at some destination he’d been rather vague about.

The arena was quiet tonight, other than an ice dance team practicing on the north rink. In the South rink, she sat down to lace her boots. Samara sat at the other end of the bench. “They don’t have rental skates at this place, do they?”

“No, but I’m sure I can find a pair around here someplace if you want to skate.”

“Nah. That’s your thing.”

“Yep, it’s my thing.” How many hours had Samara spent sitting in rinks, bored out her mind, while Tabitha competed? It didn’t seem fair. When her boots were laced, she checked her phone again. Nothing.

“Are you working on your free skate?” She aimed the camera at Tabitha as she warmed up with some simple stretches, and then at the ice.

“I should,” she said, though she wasn’t in the mood. Since returning from St. Petersburg she’d skated nothing but her competition programs. Peter had insisted. But Peter wasn’t here and a little playtime might be exactly what she needed.

“Why don’t you film me skating my competition programs, and then I’ll just skate something I want, and work off Christmas dinner in advance.”

The cold air and exhilaration of flying across the ice lifted some of her doldrums. The work they’d put in after St. Petersburg had paid off. The axel was consistent again; Antigone had a new choreo sequence she liked better. But when the program music ended, the first song that came up on her playlist was “I Put a Spell on You.” Quickly, she skated to the sound booth and shut it off. Samara called across the ice. “All done?”

“Not yet.”

She flipped through her playlist until she found something that fit her mood better. Adele’s “Hello.”

The somber piano and heart-wrenching lyrics about a woman reaching out to a man she’d hurt, only to be ignored, captured exactly what she was feeling. Caught up in the music, her skating was powerful and fearless, driven by the emotions she couldn’t express any place as well as she could express them here.

Tears streamed down her cheeks, and sobs burst forth in a wrenching catharsis. She’d loved Daniil. She still loved Daniil. But what they’d had was over, she’d lost him, and there was nothing she could do.

Her sister looked solemn as Tabitha came off the ice. “Better?” Samara asked.

Tabitha laughed sadly. “I don’t know. Maybe a little. I’m surviving.”

“That’s something. I gather he hasn’t called?”

Tabitha shook her head.

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