Page 26 of On Ice

“Hard work is good work, right? It’s important to keep busy.” She sips her water. “Have you met any nice girls? I can’t wait forever for grandkids, you little rat.”

My chest tightens. She doesn’t remember I came out to her at seventeen. Doesn’t remember how she hugged me and said she’d always known, and would always love me. Doesn’t remember meeting any of my boyfriends.

“Nobody special right now.” At least that’s not a lie.

Silence falls because it’s hard to keep up a conversation with someone who doesn’t remember anything about your life or their own.

When a sparrow lands on the feeder outside our window, Mom watches it with a little smile. “Did I ever tell you about the bird that built a nest in your father’s old hockey skates?” she asks suddenly.

My breath catches. She rarely mentions Dad anymore, and when she does, the details are usually confused with a TV show she just watched. But this story, this one’s real. I remember it. Iwas ten, and Dad had left his skates out to dry. A chickadee made a home in them.

“Tell me the story again,” I say softly, wanting to share something with her that’s real. That we both know is real.

She smiles and launches into her story. Her voice is animated as she describes Dad’s mock outrage and how he insisted on leaving the skates there until the babies fledged. The story is perfect in every detail. For a moment, she’s fully my mom again, the one who remembered all the things, big or small.

I laugh as she finishes her story and she looks pleased.

“My youngest son, Evan, was fascinated by those little birds,” she says, her cheeks flushed from laughing. “He wanted to keep them as pets.” She laughs again, looking lost in memories.

My stomach sinks, but I force a smile. “I’m Evan, Mom. I’m your son.”

She blinks at me and then nods. “Oh, I… I know.” She drops her gaze. “I know you’re my son.” She reaches over and pats my hand. “I’m sorry. My stupid brain keeps goofing up. I’m sorry Evan. Of course I know who you are.”

“It’s okay.” I squeeze her hand. Her fingers are cool and smooth, and she still wearing her wedding ring. I don’t let go of her hand right away, cherishing the familiar feel of my mother’s hand in mine. “We all have bad days.”

“Yes.” She seems happy to grab onto that thought. “We all have bad days.”

An awkward silence falls and she slowly pulls her hand from mine.

I clear my throat. “Uh, I got a new boss at work.” I obviously won’t tell her any of the details, but at least it’s something to talk about. “I don’t like him though. He’s a jerk.”

She lifts her brows. “Oh, no. That’s not good.”

“I’m hoping he won’t stick around long.” That is certainly the truth. I’d give anything to figure out a way to get rid of Luca from my life.

“What don’t you like about him?” She sounds concerned.

“He’s not a good person.” In the past, I would’ve gone to Mom for advice, but I know she can’t help me now. She’s too fragile. If I told her what was really going on, she’d only get agitated, and that would ruin the rest of our visit. Instead, I give her the edited version. “He doesn’t care about our team.”

She nods. “That’s a shame. It’s hard to work for someone you don’t like.”

“Maybe I’ll get lucky and he’ll leave.” I know that won’t actually happen, and I’ve been stressed for days trying to find a way out. I feel trapped. I can’t image throwing games for Luca, but I’m terrified of what he’ll do if I disobey him. But sabotaging my own team is unthinkable.

She leans toward me, her expression earnest. “Whatever you do, don’t let him change you. You do your best to change him instead, okay? If he’s not good, change him.”

I smile, wishing it were that easy. But you can’t change a wolf into a lamb, no matter how hard you try. “I’ll do my best, Mom.”

She stares out the window at the garden. Her expression is blank now and she looks tired. “The salmon is really good here,” she murmurs.

“It’s one of their best dishes.”

She flicks her vacant gaze to mine. “You should stay for lunch. I’m sure whoever you’re visiting would be thrilled to have some company. You seem like such a nice young man.”

I swallow past the tightness in my throat. “Maybe I will stay for lunch.”

She nods.

I clear my throat. “Do… do you mind if I eat lunch with you?”

---