The Christmas Orphans Club(69)
At the mention of David’s name, Priya flashes an approving smile at Hannah.
“I have an idea,” I say. “We’re right by Rockefeller Center and I’ve never been skating there. It feels like a New York Christmas rite of passage. Should we go? Mix in some new with the old?”
“Your wish is our command,” Theo says as Priya and Hannah nod their assent. “Lead on.”
* * *
? ? ?
?There’s a chance I miscalculated with my suggestion. The line of kids, hopped up on sugar and bouncing beside exhausted parents, starts at the sidewalk on Fifth Avenue and snakes back and forth on itself as far as the eye can see. Probably all tourists.
“Maybe this is the wrong line?” Hannah offers. “Maybe this is the line for Santa? Or Al Roker could be giving something away on the plaza?”
“Excuse me.” Priya taps the man in front of us on the shoulder. “Is this the line for skating?”
“You have to wait your turn like everyone else, weirdos,” he sneers back.
“Jeez, okay. I was just asking.”
It takes us an hour to reach the front, rent skates, and get them on, which requires some maneuvering because my fingers froze into icicles during the wait.
“I don’t know if this is a good idea.” Priya stands unsteadily in a pair of bright orange rental skates. “I can barely walk in this dress, never mind skate.”
“Maybe you can pull it up above your knees to get more range of motion?” I suggest.
“Or just hold onto the railing,” Theo offers.
“We waited in that huge ass line. We’re going skating. All of us,” Hannah shuts down her complaints.
Our group ventures onto the ice. The famous Rockefeller tree looms over the rink and pop music blares through the speakers. When the song changes to “Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays” by *NSYNC, I whip around to face the group so I can lip-sync the lyrics at them while skating backward. “This song was my jam as a kid.”
“Oh, you think you’re the only one with moves,” Hannah teases, “I took skating lessons as a kid. Watch this!” She lifts one skate off the ice, bringing her leg back into a low arabesque. She wobbles on her standing leg before putting her foot down. The whole thing lasts about three seconds.
“I used to be more flexible and remember that being much more impressive,” she admits.
From my new angle skating backwards, facing the group, I see Priya hugging the wall a few yards behind us. I feel partially responsible for forcing her into this, and now she’s clearly struggling. I skate back to her and offer my arm.
“Hang onto me instead,” I tell her. “I’ll make sure you don’t fall.”
“I think I’m getting off after this lap.”
“Don’t do that! Seriously, I’ve got you. I’m a great skater.” I speed up ahead of her and execute a quick circle, doing the fancy crossovers I taught myself at the roller rink as a kid. “See!”
I skate back to her side and grab her arm, pulling us forward to catch up with the group. The song changes to “Mistletoe” by Justin Bieber and I steer us to avoid a group of young kids pushing traffic cones around the ice for balance, all but dragging Priya along.
“You’re going too fast,” she complains.
“All you have to do is hang on. Trust me!”
“Finn, I’m going to—”
Before she can finish her sentence, her skate catches on a divot in the ice and she step-step-steps trying to find her balance. There’s the sound of fabric ripping and silver beads spray over the ice. “Motherfucker,” Priya swears under her breath, but at least she’s regained her footing.
“That’s bad language,” a pigtailed girl in a pink coat stops short to chastise Priya.
Time slows down as Priya crashes into the tattletale kid. I feel her arm unlink with mine and watch with horror as she falls. Hard.
nineteen
Hannah
Christmas #10, 2017
My dad died.
The minute Finn says those three words, our fight is forgotten. I rush to him and wrap my arms around his middle. His face crumples into the top of my head, tears soaking into my hair, while Theo yells at the video camera in the corner.
“Brian, we’ve got a real emergency in here!” He waves his arms overhead like he’s signaling a plane on a desert island.
“C’mon, Brian, don’t be a wanker,” he tries again, and slams his palm against the door for emphasis. I’ve never seen Theo lose his temper, but all signs point to us being close.
After the longest two minutes of my life, Brian opens the door. “Sorry!” He’s out of breath and red-faced. “I was in the bathroom. I didn’t see you. I thought it would be fine. No one finishes in less than an hour. It’s our hardest room!”
The five of us brush past him into the cramped lobby without acknowledging his apology.
“Please don’t leave us a bad review,” he pleads, hovering on the outskirts of the circle we’ve formed around Finn, who has collapsed onto a shabby olive-green couch with his head in his hands.
Jeremy crouches in front of him, placing one hand on each of Finn’s knees. “What do you need?” he asks helplessly.