Michelle lifted her eyes from her task. “Something wrong?”
“No,” Nell mumbled.
“Good.” Michelle grabbed another tomato, cutting more slowly. “You really liked it last week when he ate dinner with us a lot, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, except I think it’s very rude to text during dinner.”
“So do I. Maybe if you ask him not to, he won’t.”
Michelle knew part of the reason he did it was to avoid making conversation with her. But it also meant he didn’t talk as much as he could have with Nell.
“All right, I’m going to call him,” said Nell, sliding off her chair again.
“An hour,” Michelle reminded her as she started out of the kitchen.
“I KNOW!”
Another nice, cozy dinner for three, Michelle thought ruefully. It was the last thing she wanted. But if it meant Esa spent more time with Nell, then she’d grin and bear it.
23
“Something smells good.”
Michelle ignored the small uptick in her pulse as Esa strolled into the kitchen. His timing was impeccable: Nell was just setting the last fork down on the table, and she herself had just finished tossing the pasta. All that was left was to grab the salt and pepper shakers and they could sit down.
Nell looked up at her uncle, smiling.
“We’re having spaghetti,” she announced.
“Smells good,” Esa said to Michelle. He sounded like a bad actor who’d been directed to sound “casual,” but couldn’t do it.
“Thank you.”
Now that her pulse had stopped its ascent, Michelle realized how uncomfortable she was. Him walking into the kitchen saying “Smells good” . . . Nell’s setting the table . . . her making dinner . . . the only thing missing was her pecking Esa on the cheek and asking, “How was your day, honey?” If he’d been wearing a tie, he’d have walked in loosening it.
Esa approached the island in the center of the kitchen where Michelle was standing. “Anything I can do?”
“Nope, everything’s taken care of. Thanks for asking, though.” She carried the bowl of pasta over to the table, then remembered something. “Actually, if you don’t mind bringing the salt and pepper shakers over . . .”
“No problem.”
“You forgot the cheese, Michelle!” Nell rolled her eyes, slithering out of her seat to fetch the bowl of parmesan cheese on the counter.
“I love spaghetti,” she informed Esa as she sat back down, her eyes watching Michelle as she filled her pasta bowl.
“I didn’t know that,” said Esa.
“I know,” said Nell. It was a simple statement of fact, nothing pointed or guilt inducing behind it. Which almost made it worse, in Michelle’s estimation.
Done serving Nell, she instinctively reached for Esa’s plate next, same as last week. God. Damn. She knew it came from years of serving her father and brother, but he didn’t. He probably thinks I am the maid. Or the housekeeper. But Esa put his hand out to stop her, same as he had last week.
“No, no, I can serve myself.”
“Sorry,” Michelle mumbled, feeling like a jerk. She was the one who kept screwing up, not him.
“Selma’s family says grace before dinner,” said Nell.
“So you’ve said,” said Michelle.
“Maybe we should,” Nell suggested tentatively.
Esa laughed curtly. “I don’t think so.”
Nell looked apprehensive. “How come?”
“Do you believe in God?” asked Esa.
Michelle shot him a withering look. Did he really intend getting into a theological discussion with an eight-year-old? It never failed: every time she thought he was finally smartening up, he did or said something that set the process back.
“I don’t know,” said Nell with uncertainty. “Do you?” Her eyes were scouring his face, trying to discern whether she’d said the right thing or not.
“I don’t know, either,” Esa admitted. “So maybe until we figure that out, we shouldn’t say grace.”
Nell pondered this. “I get it,” she finally said. “We’re hypocrites if we say it.”
“Exactly,” said Esa. He glanced at Michelle, looking pleased, as if he somehow deserved credit for Nell’s powers of reason. Or maybe he was proud of how smart she was.
“Do you believe in God, Michelle?”
Michelle had been hoping to dodge that particular bullet, but it was too juicy a topic for a kid to let go of so easily. Cowardly as it might be, she was going to take the easy way out, and hedge her bets.
“I don’t know, Nell.”
“No one knows anything around here!”
They all laughed, moving on to small talk about their day, chat that Michelle facilitated for Nell’s sake because Esa was still so inept at it. It was also a way of controlling the flow of conversation, ensuring it centered on Nell. Not that her own day had been chock filled with excitement, but she really wasn’t comfortable with Esa knowing any of its details, and she imagined he felt the same way about his.
But it was dumb for her to think they could avoid direct interaction forever. Esa cracked first.
“I know we—you—haven’t worked out the schedule for a couple of weeks from now, but I was wondering, if it’s possible, for you to work on Saturday of that weekend. I have a charity event I have to do.”
“Oh, what’s that?” Michelle asked. She was genuinely interested.
“A thing called ‘Kids on Skates.’ The Blades organization provides free sticks and skates to poor kids and we teach them how to skate—or at least, give them a little fun on the ice.”
“Sounds great. I don’t think it’ll be a problem.”
“I don’t know how to skate!” Nell said with a pout.
“Oh.” Judging by the blank look on Esa’s face, this had never crossed his mind.
“I want to learn.”
“Uh . . . okay.” Esa considered this. “How about this: if it’s okay with Michelle, maybe she could drop you off at Met Gar after the event, and I could give you a skating lesson. Does that sound good?”
“Very good! Except for one thing.”
Esa eyed Nell wearily. “What’s that?”
“Can Michelle stay while I have my lesson?” She looked excitedly to Michelle. “Can you? Pleeasse?”
“Nell, your uncle probably wants to spend a little time alone with you,” said Michelle, proud of being able to extricate herself from a potentially awkward situation so quickly.
“No, it’s all right,” said Esa.
Coward.
Nell shook Michelle’s forearm. “So can you? Pleeeeeasse?”
“Let me think about it, okay?”
“Okay,” said Nell, lips pressing together in disappointment as she twirled some spaghetti on to her fork.
“Can you skate?” Esa asked Michelle, his tone a tiny bit too smug for her liking.
“Yes, though it’s been awhile.” Skating was like riding a bike: you never forgot how to do it. So what if she still had vivid memories of Jamie calling her a “total spaz” as she fell on her ass repeatedly out on the ice? She’d gotten the hang of it eventually.
Nell looked thrilled. “You have to come, then! It’ll be so much fun!”
“I said I’d think about it, sweetie, and I promise I will. Cross my heart.”
* * *
“Congrats, Saari: you don’t suck with kids.”
Esa accepted Lou’s backhanded compliment with a smile as he sat down on the Blades bench. “Kids on Skates” had just wound down, and it had been a huge success. Esa was surprised by how much he’d enjoyed it, despite occasional verbal abuse from Rory, who couldn’t resist reminding him that he was a “prima donna arsehole.”
The kids had been great. Some of them were naturals: a few minutes of instruction and they were whizzing down the ice. Others made Esa glad helmets were mandatory for children. He felt kind of bad for them: he could see how desperate they were to master just the basics, and how envious
they were of those who were having no problem. It gave him pause, because he’d been a natural from the time he could skate. When he was a kid, he’d never stopped to think that kids who had a tough time might feel bad about themselves. All he’d done was mock them. God, what a little bastard he was.
There were a few “disciplinary cases,” as Eric Mitchell called them—kids who didn’t realize hockey sticks were meant to stay on the ice, not be wielded like swords—but overall, the kids were extremely well behaved. Esa got a kick out of half of them being girls. He wondered: would Nell have any interest in playing hockey once she learned to skate? If she was anything like her mother, the answer was no. But maybe her father was an athlete. You never knew.
Rory skated over and sat on the bench beside him, reaching for a towel from the folded stack. “Some tough little fuckers with potential out there,” he said, mopping his face.
“I know,” said Esa.
“You looked to be enjoying yourself.”
Esa cracked open a bottle of Gatorade. “I was.”
“I was just congratulating him on not sucking with kids,” said Lou.
“Nice way of putting it,” said Rory.
“Wha? You want me to tell him he’s Mr. Rogers?”
“I have no idea who that is, Lou. I’m from Ireland, remember?”
“Oh yeah. I’m sorry. About you being from Ireland, I mean.”
“Go chase yourself, you fat fuck,” Rory replied, patting down his neck. He glanced at Esa. “C’mon, let’s head to the locker room.”
“No, I’ve got a date.” Esa took a long drink of Gatorade. It hit the spot perfectly. Sometimes he thought he could live on this stuff. “Michelle is bringing Nell down. She wants to learn how to skate.”
“The kid’s coming?” Lou looked delighted. “I’ve got to stick around!”
“I don’t want people watching her and making her self-conscious.”
Lou looked crestfallen. “I guess I get it.” He hitched his pants up. “Can I at least say hello to her?”
“Jesus Christ, Lou, I’m not that much of a prick.”
“You say that a lot, you know,” Rory noted.
Esa patted Rory’s shoulder. “I appreciate that. You’re a true pal.”
“Just thought I’d give you something to chew on.”
“I’ve got enough to chew on, believe me.”
Rory looked thoughtful. “You know what? I believe you do.”
“Look, can you do me a favor?”
Rory pushed a tangled lock of hair off his forehead. “What’s that?”
“Can you make sure the guys get the hell out of here? The last thing I need is for them to stick around to get a look at Michelle, like some pack of twelve-year-old boys.”
“Ashamed of your friends, are you?”
“Shit, yeah.”
Rory laughed. “No problem.” He shot Esa a devilish look. “I believe she already knows Ulfie.”
Esa gave him a long, dirty look.
“And Nell does know Jason,” Rory continued.
“Cut the shit and just get them out of here. Michelle and Nell will be here any minute.”
“All right, then.” Rory rose. “I’m off to run interference. Let me know how it goes, yeah? With Nell, of course.”
Esa threw him another dirty look before saying, “Bite me.”
“Seriously, it’s a good thing you’re doing, Esa, teaching Nell to skate. It’s important.”
“Yeah.” Esa was getting a little bit tired of everything he did with Nell being assigned such importance. Couldn’t he just be teaching his niece to skate?
“I agree with Bono one hundred and ten percent,” Lou chimed in.
“I think you better shut up, Lou, before he spears you like a meatball,” said Esa.
The theme from The Godfather suddenly started playing, and Lou pulled his iPhone from his jacket pocket.
“Fuck a doodle fuck,” he grumbled with a frown. “I can’t stick around to say hi. I got a text from the missus. She wants me home pronto: my brother and his wife showed up three hours early for dinner, and she hates my sister-in-law like poison. I gotta hoof it.”
“Three hours early?” asked Esa.
“My brother’s a goddamn food mooch,” Lou complained. “His wife doesn’t cook. My wife does. She’s probably been plying him with food since the minute he walked in the door. And he’s been loving it, let me tell you. Another time, I guess. Tell the kid I said hello.”
“Have you forgotten her name, Lou?” asked Esa innocently.
“No, I haven’t forgotten her name,” Lou retorted with a scowl. “I just like calling her ‘the kid.’ You got a problem with that, Saari?”
“No problem at all. I was just double-checking.” Esa paused. “So tell me her name.”
“It’s Nell. Oh, and Saari? Va fangool!”
Esa looked at Rory questioningly. “He just told you to have intimate relations with yourself.”
“Ah.”
Muttering under his breath, Lou waddled away from the bench and down the carpeted ramp into the bowels of the arena.
“Guess I better be off as well,” said Rory. “Hold back the wolf pack.”
“I appreciate it.”
“Yeah, well, you better. I’ll see you at practice tomorrow morning.”
“Yup.”
Following Lou’s lead, Esa decided to see if he’d gotten any messages, but then he remembered his phone was in his locker with his street clothes. Well, if Michelle really needed to reach him for something, she knew where he was.
Body jumping with nervous energy, he climbed over the boards onto the ice, and began to skate.
24
Michelle felt some of her anxiety melt away as Esa, who’d been circling the ice like some kind of high-speed dervish, slowed and skated over to the Blades’ bench where she and Nell now sat. It had been weird, having a special pass to get into Met Gar, followed by a security guard escorting them to the ice. Nell loved it; it was all very cloak-and-dagger to her. Michelle thought about Jamie and her father, and what their reaction would be to this “private” skating lesson. Jamie would jeer first and think later, calling Esa a big show-off. Her dad would think it was great that Esa was going to teach Nell to skate.
“Hi, Uncle Esa!”
Nell’s excited voice bounced off the walls of the complex. Perhaps it was because it was empty, but the space felt huge to Michelle, so huge that she couldn’t imagine how it was possible all these seats were filled game after game. The ice, though slightly scored from the afternoon’s activities, reminded Michelle of a smooth white bolt of silk. It was almost soothing.
“Hello, Nell.”
Esa smiled warmly at Nell, extending the look to Michelle as well. “How was your afternoon?” Michelle asked politely.
Esa looked thoughtful. “I think it went well.”
“You think? You mean you’re not one hundred percent sure that you were great? Please don’t tell me you’re learning humility at this late age.”
Esa looked pleasantly mystified by what she’d said, then refocused on Nell. “What did you two do today?”
“We went shopping. We got the thick socks you told us we needed for skating, and Michelle got some new knickers.”
“I see.”
“That’s what we call panties at home,” Nell explained. “Knickers.”
“Yes, I know that,” Esa murmured, slowly training his eyes on Michelle.
Oh, if he thought it was going to be Flirtation Day, he was wrong. Trying to ignore the way her body had responded with tingles when their eyes met, Michelle made her gaze go dead until he was forced to look away.
“So.” Esa climbed over the boards to join Nell and Michelle on the Blades bench. “First, skates.” He pulled two cardboard boxes out from under the bench, handing one to each of them. Michelle looked at him quizzically, her gaze coming back to life. She’d been under the impression they’d be renting skates. Esa smiled enigmatically, gesturing for her to open the
box. Inside was a pair of classic white ice skates, the sheen on the blades so high you could see a piece of your reflection.
Nell, who’d received the same skates in her size, held them up by the laces, transfixed as they dangled in front of her eyes. “Look at them. They’re so lovely.”
“They are,” Michelle agreed. She held hers up in front of Esa’s face. “How did you know my shoe size?”
“We all leave our shoes by the door, remember?”
“Right.” She’d hoped there might have been a clandestine element to it. She had an image of him furtively creeping into her room, holding his breath as he slowly turned the knob of her closet door, hoping it didn’t squeak. Sad proof she needed some excitement in her life.
Esa dropped his gloves, clapping his hands twice. “Now, socks on.”
“You’re very bossy,” said Nell.
Michelle looked down at her lap, fighting a laugh. Sometimes, it was bad that kids blurted out the first thing that came to their minds. This wasn’t one of those times.
“Okay, now skates.”
Esa moved to kneel down in front of Nell but she scootched out of range. “I can do it myself,” she insisted.
“They need to be laced up tight or you can hurt your ankle,” he explained.
“I still can do it myself,” said Nell. She wasn’t budging.
Esa looked frustrated. Michelle held her breath; for a split second, it looked like Esa might snap at Nell, but he seemed to get hold of himself. “All right, let me put Michelle’s skates on first so you can see how it’s done.”
Panic crashed through Michelle as Esa knelt before her like some kind of hockey Prince Charming and reached for her left foot. Her eyes shot to the scoreboard, the empty chairs across the arena, anywhere but down at him. Yet she was overwhelmed with a sense of futility. Surely she wasn’t the only one who felt the titanic surge in energy between them as he gently cupped her heel and slowly slid her foot into the skate. How could something so mundane feel so intimate? Michelle finally made herself look down at him, intuition telling her that he was feeling the energy, too, maybe even relishing it. He was lacing up her skates painstakingly slow, almost as if he didn’t want it to end. “How does that feel?” Esa asked, raising his head to look at her when he was finally done. “Nice and tight?”
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