Page 30 of Skating and Fake Dating
Me too, Mom. Me too.
Her eyelashes do a weird, fluttery thing. “The pleasure is mine.” Then she mutters something about canceling the blind date with Wilber Wakashan and dinner with Ian Sharpe. The first one kicked me in the shins in third grade and the second spread a rumor that I had zits on my butt in eighth.
“What a pleasant surprise. What brings you here?” Mom asks our guest.
“Hockey,” I blurt. “Carson was just picked up by the Ice Breakers.”
“Oh, it’s so exciting to have our very own sports team. Everyone is talking about it. Bailey here worked for an athletic organization once?—”
“I still do, Mom. The NHL.”
“Oh, that’s what it’s called. I lose track. You’ve had so many jobs.”
“Just three in my professional career.” I tuck my hair behind my ear.
But my mother doesn’t hear as Margaret, our overly enthusiastic golden retriever, bounds our way. After we greet the dog as she spins circles around us, tail thwacking everything, Mom parades us into the front room, where I find several aunts,uncles, cousins, and spouses visiting while they wait to head to the chapel. Notably, Uncle Frank is absent.
“Looks like you got yourself into a pickle,” Aunt Doris says, eyeing the handcuffs with concern.
I try to explain what happened with the magician, but they all talk over me, speculating about this particular pickle. It’s no use trying to give accurate details over the cacophony. They won’t listen, anyway. Instead, I holler, “Does anyone know where Uncle Frank is?”
Aunt Bianca, his wife, says, “He’s away on a work retreat. Won’t be back until next weekend. The stinker got out of this wedding by the skin of his teeth. Said the hunting trip was required of all law enforcement officers.”
Over my shoulder, to Carson, I mouth,Sorry.
Brow pinched, I cannot tell whether his expression is one of horror, confusion, or amusement. Maybe a combination of all three.
I wave hello to everyone while my mother introduces Carson. “He’s a hockey player.”
The uncles who were snoozing while the aunts and cousins gossiped instantly crowd around him as if hoping the glow of greatness rubs off on them as they pepper him with questions.
For now, I’m forgotten, but I overhear my mother say, “She finally found someone successful.”
I’m about to correct them and explain that it’s not like that when my arm yanks in the opposite direction as Carson and I accidentally close-line a cousin who was probably racing to the cookie jar in the kitchen. It’s always full, even though my siblings and I have moved out.
Though, technically, this is still my primary place of residence since my job requires so much travel and the league puts me up in short-term rentals or extended stay suites.
“Jordan, are you okay? Sorry! We’re—” I lift up Carson and my arms, reminding me of a high school project when we had to carry around five-pound bags of flour for a week for health class—though I’m pretty sure his toned arm weighs twenty pounds or more.
All eyes turn to us, filled with questions and some with accusations.
The ten-year-old hardly breaks stride as he races down the hall. The floor squeaks in the place it always has, telling me he’s making a run for the cookies while the adults are distracted.
Odette, with hair as straight as a pin and dressed in a sleek red gown, appears with one hand propped on her hip and presents it in such a way that makes her engagement ring sparkle. “What do we have here?”
“Bailey! You haven’t seen your sister’s ring yet. Isn’t it gorgeous?” Mom asks, holding out Odette’s hand for everyone, especially me, to see.
“I saw the pictures.”
One of my aunts exclaims, “It’s HUGE!”
Yes, it is huge and very shiny. However, Damian, her fiancé, is not. Standing next to Carson, he looks like he was passed over at gym class for the dodgeball team. His wire glasses and snooty arrogance hide the fact that he’s rather dull. His hobbies probably include a toe cheese collection and obeying my sister’s every demand.
“Isn’t it amazing?!” Odette says, making twinkle fingers.
One of the uncles asks, “Damian, which kidney did you have to sell to afford that?”
My mother says, “Don’t be silly, Lloyd. My soon-to-be son-in-law works in finance. He’s loaded.”
