The Inside Edge: Chapter Two

Pulling into her parking spot twenty minutes later, Brianne let out a
soft, tired sigh. Turning to grab the skates from where they rested on the
passenger seat, she suddenly stilled, her eyes sparkling a little as a laugh
bubbled up her throat.

            She’d almost learned
how to stop.

            “Screw it,” she
decided, moving her hand away. The ice-skates remained unmoved on the seat as
she slowly pulled her aching, protesting legs out from inside the car.
Groaning, she rubbed her back. “I must be crazy to even consider it,” she
mumbled, lumbering toward the small cottage-looking apartment complex. “My back
is killing me and I’m terrified that one of these times I’m going to run smack
into the boards.”

            But all the same, a
swell of anticipation lay just beyond the words. She’d told the boys she’d be
there next Sunday.

            “And really,” she
muttered, gaining the slightly unnerved eye of her neighbor, who’d stepped
outside to grab her mail. Half-turning, the woman watched Brianne’s slow
progression, her mouth thinning as she observed the younger woman’s lively, if
one-sided, conversation.

            “…it’s not as if you
have anything else to do. Plus, think of the exercise,” she said chuckling as
she dug inside her purse for her key. One of the reasons Brianne had picked
this particular apartment complex—aside from its darling brick-and-stucco
exterior and the sweet, homey appeal of the large rectangular garden at the
front entrance—was the private, secured entrance for each individual tenant.

            Inserting her key in
the lock, still blissfully unaware of her spying neighbor, Brianne let herself
into the small, thin hallway of her front door. With a flick of her hand, she
turned on the overhead lights and was just kicking off her shoes when she heard
the muffled sound of her phone ringing.

            Fishing it quickly out
of her shoulder-bag, Brianne spared the time for a momentary grimace when she
saw who was calling. Still, swiping her hand across the screen, she brought the
phone up to her ear with her feelings well-concealed.

            “Hey, Mom,” she
answered.

            “Brianne! There you
are?”

            Brianne rolled her
eyes—but affectionately. “Retire the Search and Rescue Team, huh?”

            “Oh, hush.” Molly Kelling
laughed. “I only meant…”

            “I know what you
meant. We had a deal.” Brianne had the grace to sound contrite. “I’m sorry, Mom.
It’s just—”

            “Forty-eight hours,
Brianne.”

            Fighting back a rise
of irritation, Brianne swallowed. She was thirty-three years old for Christ’s
sake. She was long past the age of curfews, chaperones, and parental control.  “I’ve been busy.”

            “Really?” The dry tone
of her mother’s voice was hard to ignore.

            “Mom—”

            “How’s, how’s the new
job?”

            Brianne’s eyes
narrowed. While the effort to change the subject was appreciated, she wasn’t
sure she trusted that note in her mother’s voice.

            “It’s fine.”

            “Only fine?”

            Brianne felt her
eyebrows tug together. Wandering into her living room, her eyes glided over the
bare walls, the lack of furniture. A small leather chair, a slapdash stack of
books, and an empty pint glass, resting on the floor, stared back at her from
an otherwise empty room. Disregarding the sight, Brianne marched to the small
row of windows on the East wall. With a flick of her fingers, she parted the
lacy curtains that had come with the place.

            “What’s with the
third-degree, Mom?”

            “No, I just wanted to—”

            “You know I didn’t move
here for my job.”

            A harsh sigh filled
the other end of the line. “Well, but then, I’ve never really understood why
you moved, have I?”

            Brianne closed her
eyes. She’d been right to suspect the line of questioning. With a sigh, she
dropped the curtains back in place. “No,” she admitted softly, “I don’t suppose
you have.”

            “Do you like it
there?”

            Brianne shrugged. “I
don’t know yet.”

            “You moved thousands
of miles away and you don’t know yet?”

            Unbidden, Brianne
thought of those young kids at the hockey arena. She smiled at the memory of
their offer of protection and their very vocal invitation to teach her how to
properly skate. A giddiness of appreciation swelled at the memory.

            “No, I don’t know,” Brianne said, hearing her voice as though coming out of a fog. “But—I think, I think maybe this place, I think that maybe it likes me.”

            Brianne was late to
the hockey rink that Sunday. Her cheeks were flushed, her short, hair clinging
statically to her cheeks as she hustled to tie up her skates. Plopping the
knitted hat over her ears, she canvassed the arena. Her eyes narrowed as she
looked for Leather Jacket but with a sigh, she realized he wasn’t among the
figures flying by…

            “She’s here!”

            The words, scorching
the cold air, were shouted over the left shoulder of a nearby skater. “Guys.
She’s here.” With a nod, the speaker than jerked his head in Brianne’s direction.

            It was Charlie.
Smiling in greeting, Brianne tromped slowly toward the open doors at the far
end of the arena.

            He bet her there, waving
eagerly as she advanced across the rubbing mating surrounding the rink. “You
made it!”

            Smiling gently,
Brianne nodded. “I did.”

            Charlie leaned against
the boards. “Yeah, we didn’t think you’d actually show.”

            Carefully, Brianne
stepped out onto the ice, her hands steadying against the plexiglass covering
the top-half of the sporting wall. With a dry glance, she felt her lips tugging
upward. “Yeah. I sort of got that impression just now.”

            “Hey Ms. Kelling!”

            “You came!”

            “It’s a little too
busy to practice stopping…”

            At the words, a jumble
of voice falling and rising over one another, a group of ten or so teenage boys
advanced upon Brianne and Charlie. Down to the individual, they smiled largely
up at her.

            Taking great comfort
in their obvious reaction to her company, Brianne felt her own lips tugging
ever-wider. “Hey guys!”

            “Yeah, Cory’s right.”
This came from George, who was now checking out the half-full rink behind them.
“It’s too packed to work on your stop.”

            “That’s okay,” Brianne
rushed to assure the group, only too giddy at the easy escape. She had enough
bruises left over from last time. She only hoped the rink never emptied out! “I’m
happy to just skate, too.”

            At the words, the
party started. As if on cue, the group pushed off the boards. Tucked cozily in the
center, Brianne tried not to notice the critical expressions playing out on the
kid’s faces as she swayed a bit crookedly.

            “Well…” George said
slowly, elongating the word. “I mean, there are other things we could work on
until the arena clears.”

            “Yeah?” Brianne
swallowed nervously, her skates taking the corner inexpertly. “Like what?”

            “Well—” The boys
shared side-long glances.

            “Your posture could
use some work.”

            Brianne’s eyes rounded.
“My what?”

            “You kind of…you know,
like hunch your shoulders?”

            “Yeah—and you sort of
swing your arms around like propellers.”

            That comment sent the
boys into a round of polite, hand-over-the-mouth, snickers.

            “I do not!”

            “It’s okay, Ms.
Kelling,” Cory said, edging up beside her. He lowered his voice a little. “It’s
normal. For beginnings.”

            With a sigh, Brianne forced
herself not to blush. After all, the boys were only trying to help. If she
walked away a bit embarrassed, so be it. And really—Corry was basically right.
After years of retirement, she was back to being a rank beginner. She just hadn’t
realized she was so…well, obvious about it. Fighting a smile, Brianne took a
moment to gaze around at the anxious faces crowded her in.

            She pursed her lips as
a newfound bubble of amusement hit her. “Anything else?”

            “We could work on your
ankles.”

            “My what?”

            “You skate inwards.”

            “Puts a strain on the
joints.”

            “Makes it easy to lose
your balance.”

            “Oh boy,” Brianne murmured,
a mock frown marring her clear complexion. She winked at George. “I fear I’ve
got a lot to learn.”

            “Never fear, Ms. Kelling.”
The voice, coming from the back of the group, belonged to Charlie. “We got
this. Right boys?”

            In unison, Brianne
heard their victorious shout: “Right!”

            As they surged
forward, Brianne spared a moment to wonder just how sore she’d be by the end of
open skate. On second thoughts, perhaps she’d rather have tried stopping again…

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