Page 122 of Memories Like Fangs
A shifter—a badger maybe?—pounced onto her back, climbing halfway up and acting like they were biting her shoulder. Little hands tugged at her coat, hands, and whatever else they could reach. I knew Quinn could handle them and turn the tables if she wanted to, but instead, she allowed them to take her down onto the snow. Despite being buried under children, someone called her “Queen Playground,” and they chatted, shapeshifted, magicked, and vibrated with energy around her. To her credit, Quinn didn’t flinch under their playful bites and scratches. She cheered with each display of power from the kids. She gave every kid her full attention, just like she’d done with Bryson, granting each one a turn. It should have been impossible and overwhelming, but she not only managed it, shelovedit. Not a singular moment of her elation was performative. It was all very real. Fierce. Overflowing. Contagious.
Oh, my ovaries are going to be so mean to me when there isn’t a fertilized egg next month from this woman. The cramps will bedevastating.
Ayrie let out a long, slow whistle beside me. “Okay, I was definitely joking before, but now I will actually have to chain her somewhere in my house. That woman’s got more patience than the Ancients of old and more energy than Bry after eating his weight in chocolate.”
I chuckled. “Who are you telling? My mate will always find a way to surprise me.”
As we watched for a while, Bryson zoomed to a slide, screeching something about showing Quinn his “super jump.” My stunning Starlight was halfway through chasing him when another kid tagged her to be “it” in a game she hadn’t agreed to but was absolutely playing now. Their laughter wrapped around us like a winter scarf.
Ayrie leaned in. “You know, if you’d told me when we were kids that you’d grow up and bring someone like her home, someone that could make my baby laugh like that? I would’ve said you had folded quite the fortune teller.”
I laughed, turning from Quinn and the kids’ resounding joy to continue our walk to the ice rink. “Oh,bigsame.”
“Have you ever thought of having kids of your own?” Ayrie asked.
I shrugged. “Off and on. Now, a lot more of on, I think.”
“Hey, at least you can be more intentional as a lesbian,” Ayrie said as we joined the short line at the ice rink’s ticket booth. “Bryson was a happy accident. Until I had him, you remember how much I wanted to have kids, but I always thought I would have more time. Then again, there is never a perfect time to have a kid. Nothing prepares you for it. Honestly, the first few years are pure hell, but you just have to dive in and hope for the best for the most part.”
“Reminds me of something Pops used to say,” I said.
Auntie Titi appeared from behind us and chuckled. “Oh, honeybee. Your father was a nervouswreckwhen you were born. He was too scared to worry about things being perfect.”
I looked at her incredulously. “Pops? Nervous?”
“Ooh, yes, child! That man nearly blew the hospital down with his stress when you were born. He always wanted kids, but when Doe had you, he just about lost his mind. He thought you were made of glass. You should’ve seen him! Your Mama and I tried to calm him down for months, until you were school age, just about!”
After we got our wristbands to enter the rink, Ayrie and I went to lace up our skates. The entire time, Auntie Titi regaled us with stories about not just Pops but Aunt Max, too. Auntie Titi had grown up with Pops coming to visit and Aunt Max tagging along. The three of them used to be close, just like siblings, so she was able to tell me stories that I had never even heard about Pops and Aunt Max before. When they were little, Pops used to be so adventurous, something I inherited from him, and Aunt Max used to be even bolder and louder than Mama before she joined the military. Aunt Titi told me how Max didn’t talk a ton about her family, but she did have a little sister who was around my age, whom she was estranged from because of their mom. Before I could wonder too much about the little sister and how much or little she knew, Auntie Titi switched gears to talk more about how much of a duo Pops and Max were and the hijinks they used to get into.
Auntie Titi had me and Ayrie rolling with her stories, including one about Pops learning how to fly and falling from a tree with a bird’s nest in his locs. We both had to wipe tears and hold our sides, having to take breaks from lacing our skates. The stories stitched my family tighter into my heart and served to remind me of how much I missed this, how much I missedbeing around folks who knew me because they knew those who had created me and come before. I adored my found family, the ones I had made from the literal ashes of what I had lost. They would always be my world. But, there was something special that I couldn’t deny about being reunited with those that I hadn’t lost after all.
As Auntie Titi finished with a story about the first time Pops and Auntie Max got sloshed, Ayrie and I finished tying our skates and stood to take our coats off to put them in our bags so they wouldn’t get in our way as we were skating. Auntie Titi whistled at the sight of our outfits, making me and Ayrie pose in our matching cream cropped sweaters over our flowy sky-blue dresses with built-in shorts, leggings, and leg-warmers.
“Ain’t y’all something else! Those outfits are too cute!” Auntie Titi admired as she took our picture on her phone.
“Oh, I figured at least Byrdie should look good while I’m smoking her ass on that ice,” Ayrie smirked.
“Youfigured? I am the one who found these outfits yesterday and who realized they havepockets! Besides, I wear it so much better than you.”
Ayrie snorted. “Oh, please! That outfit is about to be for show! Do you even remember how to skate after all these years, Little Byrdie?”
“Bitch, can you even keep up is what you should be asking!”
Aunt Titi shook her head, laughing. “Oh, you two haven’t changed a bit.”
Laughing ourselves, Ayrie and I headed for the gate of the ice rink. The last time I was on the ice, I had given it my all and worried that I would be too much for the girl I wanted so badly to like me. It took that same girl telling me that I could never be too much for her to make me realize that if I wanted her to fall for me, I had to be myself and give her something to fall into. If I wanted her to find a home with me, I had to make sure I was athome and at peace with myself so I could show her around. And, being on the ice was just one of the many places where I felt the most myself instantly.
I took one step from the snowy grass.
The blade of my shoe kissed the ice.
Then, I pushed off.
The rush of cold air encircled me like an old friend, so I welcomed it and then some. As clumsy as I was as a kid, where it seemed my imagination alone could trip me up and I could bump into air, Pops used to say I learned to crawl and then I skated. I glided forward with ease, bending my knees and leaning into each stride. Every part of my body knew this song word for word. The harmony, melody, beats, balance, breath, and motion were ingrained in my muscles like my very DNA. It was like a sheet of music I had played so much on the cello that I had it memorized and dreamed of it at night. The sound of the ice splitting softly under my skates was the best musical accompaniment. I knew I was art in motion, especially as my blades carved the surface with graceful, confident arcs and elegant, glinting markings. No matter how abstract the work was, it showed my deep, beautiful, and bottomless love for skating that never went away, regardless of how much time passed since I last touched the frozen water.
“You show-off!” Ayrie hollered from somewhere behind me, breaking me from my reverie. I turned to skate backwards and watch her moving like me.
Well, not just like me because I was better.
