Page 43 of The Christmas Express
‘Remember when you broke your arm but you still wanted to wear those lace-up boots every day?’ he asks. His voice is low, and not exactly warm but almost like a small cinder burning in the darkness.
‘Yeah. You helped me.’
He places my foot down and puts his hand under my other calf, lifting it to tie that skate on too. As he does so, he glances up at me, and for a millisecond we search each other’s faces in the frosty air.
As quickly as he started, he finishes, pats the top of my boot, and stands, turning away without another word, and glides off down a trail upon his own skates.
He’s always there for me, even after all this time. Is it too much to think he might still care, still want to be my friend, even if he’s with someone else?
I exhale, long and slow, watching the space where he’d been.
I am not very good at ice skating. And that’s okay, it’s fine, because it’s not like I need this skill in everyday life. Did you know that there’s a canal in Ottawa that freezes over every winter, so commuters skate on it to and from work? I think I would have a broken limb every week if I lived there.
I’m not terrible, but you know that satisfying whoosh, whoosh, whoosh that some people make as they ice skate? I don’t make that noise, mine is more of a thonk, thonk, thonk-whoops-thonk.
I’ve been tottering along the trails on my own for a while, gripping trees as I pass, and sitting down when I need to pause to take a photo. During one such moment, Joe appears beside me, and helps me back to my feet.
‘How’s your evening?’ I ask him.
‘Good. This is nice. And it’s nice to get away from my sister.’
‘How is Joss now?’
‘Still in a strop with me. As usual. It doesn’t take much to set her off, really.’
‘Do you two see much of each other?’ I ask.
Joe shakes his head, burying his chin into his jacket neck for a moment. ‘Nah. At holidays and family functions, but that’s about it.’
‘That’s sad,’ I blurt. ‘You two used to be so close.’
Joe makes a noise. ‘I wouldn’t say that,’ he says, eventually.
‘You wouldn’t?’
‘We were close in proximity, in the townhouse. Close in that we’re family and trusted each other and thought we could run a business together. But I wouldn’t have said we ever were the best of siblings. Remember, before I moved to London and Joss let me become her flatmate, I hadn’t seen her for over a year.’
‘Do you miss her?’ I ask him.
‘Not really,’ he says with a laugh, but there’s a sadness in his smile. He misses her. He must do. ‘Have you missed her?’
He looks like he wants to ask if anyone’s missed him. And this is the thing about Joe, the reason – as bad as I feel – that people think of him as a little weak. He never stands up for himself. He never says what he wants or needs. But that’s him, it’s not up to us to try and change him, is it? Instead of pointing out any of this, I say, ‘To be totally honest, I missed you all at the beginning, at least, after a cooling off period, but it’s been so long now.’
I still miss all of you, I want to say, but I bite my lip. I don’t want to be the first to admit it, I don’t want to be the only one who feels this way. Instead, I say, ‘Who’s going to share with Joss tonight, then?’
Three hours on solid ground passed in a blur, and before you could say Merry Christmas Eve Eve I’m climbing back aboard our train, ready for our second night.
I’m just letting out a giant yawn in the space between carriages, when Ember jumps up onto the train behind me. She’s out of breath, her cheeks pink, and she drops her bag down with a heavy plonk. It almost sounds like she’s got all of her things in there with her.
‘Good evening?’ I ask.
She nods, catching her breath. ‘Yeah. I think so. Yes. I nearly . . .’
‘What?’
Ember stops and shakes her head. ‘Nothing. I’m just really looking forward to seeing Bryn again. I know you don’t want to hear that.’
I don’t. But I think I’m beginning to understand it.
