Over the next period of time, Maggie’s entire family grew more and more short-tempered. Instead of greeting each other with, “Good morning,” they simply grunted. The puffy circles under her mother’s eyes were so large they began to resemble bean bag chairs. The long hours in the car were wretched. And training with Coach Bennett made Maggie feel like she was getting painted into the wrong picture all over again.
At practice one morning, Maggie collided with Beatrice from behind. Both girls fell down onto the ice.
“Watch it, Magnolia!” Beatrice hollered, rubbing her elbow.
“You watch it,” Maggie snapped, shoving her sister’s leg off of her own. It wasn’t fair, Beatrice getting everything she wanted. She always got everything she wanted just because she liked the same things their mother liked.
As Maggie went to stand up, she slid a bit. The blade of her skate slipped forward and caught the tender skin on her sister’s shin. They both watched in horror as blood quickly welled up and soaked through Beatrice’s white tights.
“Oh no, Bea,” Maggie said, placing her own gloved hand over the cut, panicking. “I’m so sorry.”
Tears pooled in the corner of Beatrice’s eyes, but she didn’t let them escape. She got up and skated slowly over to Coach Bennett. Years of figure skating had taught them both to be brave when injured.
It was one thing they had in common, at least.
Maggie felt terrible about hurting her sister. She was so exhausted. She couldn’t skate or even think straight. Something had to change.
Maggie slipped away to the locker room and kicked off her skates. She collapsed onto the wooden bench and dropped her head into her hands. Her dad’s face popped into her mind. She needed someone on her side.
* * *
Maggie waited until Beatrice and her mother went to bed. Then she crept to the study and opened the door. Inside, it smelled like a mixture of wood and leather and her dad’s aftershave. It made her feel like a small child again.
Her dad looked up from his papers. “What’s up Magnolia?” he asked. “I mean, Maggie.”
Maggie loved him for remembering what she wanted to be called.
“Can I talk to you for a second?” she asked. She walked over and curled up in one of his dark brown chairs.
He got up and came to sit in the chair beside her. He grabbed both of her hands and squeezed them. “It’s about the ice skating situation, right?”
The concern on his face caused tears to spring suddenly to Maggie’s eyes. She found herself blurting out the story of her one day of practice with Coach Stone. She talked and talked. She told him all about how she’d felt so free and alive.
“Mom is being so unfair,” Maggie said. “She never cares about what I want.” She lowered her head, snot and tears now running down her face in a steady stream.
Her dad reached up to wipe her face with his handkerchief.
“I want to tell you a story, Maggie,” he said in a serious voice. “This is a story about your mom that you might not have heard before.”
Maggie thought she knew everything about her mother.
“When your mom was young, about your age actually,” he started, leaning back in his chair, settling into his tale, “she wanted desperately to be a figure skater.”
“What?” said Maggie.
“Yep,” her dad said. “She practiced and practiced.” He grinned. “You know how dedicated she can be when she sets her mind to something.”
Maggie coughed out a laugh. She did know.
“And then, one day,” he continued, “she was in a car accident with her parents.”
Maggie blinked rapidly. She had never heard about any car accident.
“She broke her leg,” her dad continued. “She broke it so badly, it turned out, that she couldn’t skate anymore.” He got up from his chair and then sat back down again like he wasn’t sure how to finish the story.
“Couldn’t she just go to physical therapy?” Maggie said, thinking about all the times she or Beatrice had gone to PT for various injuries.
“Therapy wasn’t like it is today, Maggie,” he said. “Her leg was never quite the same. That may be why she’s so determined to give you girls what she couldn’t have.” He stopped then, letting the words sink in. He pulled Maggie close for a hug.
As she held onto her dad, the charmed image she’d always had of her mother wavered and floated away. In its place appeared a young girl with a long white cast on her leg. It didn’t excuse her mother’s behavior. Still, the new image made Maggie feel terrible.
“Thanks for telling me that, Dad,” Maggie said. “It helps.”
“Sure, Maggie,” he said. “Remember that you can talk to her, too. You can let her know how you’re feeling.”
Maggie nodded and headed upstairs to bed.
Before she turned out the light, she glanced over and saw a photo of Beatrice and herself from the summer before at their grandparents’ house. They were wearing matching blue shorts and white shirts. With their matching blond hair, they appeared as identical as could be.
Studying the photo closely, Maggie noticed the strained smile on her own face and remembered how annoyed she’d been that day. She remembered not wanting to take yet another picture of them looking like the same person.
Maggie decided that maybe it was time to give her mother a break. Her mother deserved it. She had never gotten the chance to follow her own skating dreams. As she drifted off to sleep, Maggie caressed the fading blue spikes on her head. Maybe someday she could be who she wanted. But maybe not yet.