“The bitterness builds character.” She tells me before taking a big gulp of coffee, probably to shut up my whining.
I grumble, “Garth would let me have sweetener.”
“Because he is a sweet, simple man.” She hides a smile behind her cup, still smitten with him after all these years.
The bag carousel whirls to life. Everyone steps closer to the conveyor belt. “How did you and Garth start dating?”
Maude lifts a brow but entertains my question. “I asked him out on a date. Does your generation not do that anymore?” She waves a hand. “Let the phones do it for you with the swiping?”
“Actually, we’re all committed to celibacy. It’s the hip new thing.”
“I would not have answered your question if I knew you were going tonip, nip, nipat me for answering. Ah.” Her bag appears, and she goes to grab it.
When she returns, I give her an honest answer. “Dating is hard.”
She nods. “You don’t need the distraction right now.”
Finally, my own bag crosses the conveyor belt. We make our way over to the taxi depot, which is far, far away from Baggage Claim. It gives us time to argue. “What if having a boyfriend inspired me? It could unlock some new passion to add to my routine.”
“You have plenty of passion, Roderick.” She’s talking to me like we’re already on the ice. “The judges don’t want to watch an open flame engulf the venue. They want a controlled burn. Restraint. That is where you have always struggled, peitie tamia.”
I gamble. “The right guy could contain me.”
“What’s his name?”
I choke on air. “He doesn’t exist! Not yet.”
“Oh, so he’s a fantasy man? Like Prince Charming.” She throws her head back and laughs. “That’s the best sort of man anyway.”
“I’m telling Garth you said that.”
“And I’m warning you, he will agree with me.”
We get a taxi and I drop the conversation, opting for a napinstead. Not that I get much rest with all the honking and stop and go traffic. The skating club is in a Boston suburb, and it takes a ridiculous amount of time to travel. It makes me miss the country roads of Pennsylvania. Travel makes me weirdly nostalgic for a home I haven’t left yet.
In the hotel lobby there are dozens of kids wearing skating club jackets, all junior divisions age. I’m in the senior division and, boy, do I feel it when I hear squeaky voices making conversation. It’s a lot of questions about video games and hometowns.
Meanwhile, I avoid conversation with another senior division skater checking in next to me. Donald, a mothfolk from Jackson Florida. When we were teenagers he loved playing RPGS, even let me watch him play his handheld game after we finished our programs. I’m surprised he’s here, considering his scores last season.
“Can the shuttle take us to the club?” Maude asks the hotel worker.
“Yes, ma’am.”
All my practice gear is in its own bag so we don’t bother going to the room to unpack. Today is a cakewalk. Tomorrow is what matters.
One competition down.One gold added to my ranks. And one lovely Maude checking in on me from the moment I’m back on campus.
“Your professors understand you’ll be gone again next week, yes?”
“I let them know. They’re letting me submit my assignments online.” I push the door with my back, keeping my phone up to my ear with my shoulder. As soon as I enter the building, shouts and calls echo from the rink into the lobby.
“Also, you have a fitting in October.”
I perk up. “Can I see the sketches? Are there sketches?”
“We are just getting your measurements. You should come with ideas.”
Figure skating costumes are a mess of spandex, chiffon, rhinestones, and low-cut shirts. They’re so camp, and I love them so very much. In the past, Maude has taken the lead on concepts with some feedback from me. It sounds like this year, I’ll get the final say.