When I get to Danny’s house, it’s already half packed up. It’s wall-to-wall boxes. The Trudeaus have made little pathways through them all so you can get to different rooms. It’s like being in a subway system. Danny can see I look a bit horrified.
“It looks bad,” Danny says, “but we didn’t bring too much with us in the first place. We knew we wouldn’t be around forever. Most of my stuff is in storage. There’s not a lot of need for ice hockey equipment in this city.”
“Ice hockey. I never knew you did that!” Who is this man that I call my boyfriend?
“Oh yeah, I LOVE it!” Danny’s eyes are like saucers. You can tell this is something that he ADORES. “You know there’s a machine called a Zamboni that smooths the surface of the ice. You can drive it! It shaves the ice like a razor on skin, then it smooths it all inside. THEN it spews it out to make recycled ice that you can skate on!”
“Wow,” I reply with an unwow voice. I realize that Danny comes from another world. A world of snow.
We spend the rest of the afternoon together. It’s like it always is—he’s funny and he’s sweet. He does an incredible impression of not just a Zamboni but a moose, the teacher at school who gets a bulgy vein forehead thing when he gets cross, and a pedestrian crossing. Don’t ask how. He just does.
It’s all going fantastically until he starts to talk about leaving, and then he gets serious.
“Can you do me a favor after I’m not here, Millie?”
“Depends what it is,” I say cautiously. Mum says never go into negotiations blind. You have to know what you’re doing.
Danny looks fidgety.
“Stop worrying so much. HAVE FUN. Have fun in this space and place right now. Because I’ve moved around so much, I’ve discovered that. If you aren’t where you are, you’re nowhere. I didn’t think of that—I saw it on TV—but it’s TRUE. And ignore the trolls. They are nothing to you. They are THIS!”
Danny starts to do an impression of a fly that buzzes around me for a time, then dies horribly in the middle of the floor. His legs go everywhere.
“They are THIS!” Danny shouts to me again. “And you are Millie Porter. You’ve got this incredible thing going on. Don’t ruin it!”
It’s hard to take advice from someone pretending to be an insect, but I know he’s trying to be kind. And I know he’s right.
When I go to leave, we have a tremendous kiss. It reminds me exactly of what I am going to miss. It goes on forever till his mum shouts up to say that his dinner is ready. Mums seem to have a sixth sense when it comes to anything even slightly passionate. One bit of tongue action and all of a sudden the pasta is boiled and will self-destruct if you don’t come and get it immediately. It must be something they teach you in parent school.
When I leave, Danny hugs me very tightly. The kind of hug you can still feel in your skin after the person has gone. The best kind. Not too tight, but real and firm. Danny is leaving, but he doesn’t have to leave my head.
The whole afternoon has made me feel a bit braver. I think I’m ready to share my news with the world now. I think I’m ready to admit that …
Danny is going.
There. I managed to say it without losing the plot.
As I’m walking home, I get a message from Dad. Sometimes he texts things he wants to say, but can’t.
Millie. I love you and I think what you are doing is marvelous. You’ve inspired me. BTW my plane is late. Pilot strike.
I’d prefer not to be an inspiration and for people to stick around. That would be good.