Emyln

I meet up with Val and Rosa at the ice cream parlour Val works at. Conveniently, today is her day off, but that doesn't mean she's not able to get me a large waffle cone with strawberry cheesecake ice cream for free. Which she does. She also makes a remark about how someone else who plays a significant part in my life seems to be enchanted by the stuff. Of course, they laugh at me when I start blushing furiously. Now I know how Hains felt when we went out last night.

"Knock it off," I warn them through my smile.

"Aw, come on, sis," Rosa says, taking a lick of her mint chocolate chip ice cream cone. I wrinkle my nose in disgust – who in their right mind could possibly like that shit? Mint and chocolate is a couple that was never meant to be. "We're just teasing you."

"Yeah, Rosie," I reply, rolling my eyes. "I know. And now I know how poor Hains felt last night while we were making fun of him for being underage. Remind me to apologize to him tonight after hockey."

Val snorts. "Please – like you're going to have a chance to apologize to him. We all know what the two of you are going to do after hockey's over." She glances at me and makes a kissy face.

I frown at her. Though that's something I wouldn't mind doing with Hains, it's not what I had been planning on. After hockey I actually wanted to go to his house and see his mom – I haven't seen her for years and I would like to play catch up. I want to know how she's doing after the shit Hains's dad pulled. The three of us would be good together, talking about past problems. Maybe there'd be some laughs.

"Someone's lost in her daydreams," Rosa says.

I shake my head. "No, I'm not. I was just thinking about what I actually want to do after hockey."

"Which is...?" my sister presses.

"I was thinking of asking Hains if I could see his mom. It's been years and she was always so nice to us when we were kids. On top of that, I haven't been to his house since I lived here."

When I'm finished speaking, I look between the girls and see two different reactions, one that is null because I was expecting it and one that concerns me greatly. Rosa looks impressed with me – I've always been the reckless one, so it's not surprising for her and Val to think all I wanted to do after hockey was hook up with Hains. It's probably something I would have done if the circumstances had been different between him and I. But they're the way they are, so I'm going to take things slow and get to know him better than ever before I do anything like that. Val's reaction is the one that concerns me. She won't make eye contact with me to express her approval of my plans (not that I care, but it would be nice to have support from my sister and one of my best friends), nor will she stop picking at the nail polish on her fingernails.

Just like what Hains said about his mom needing his college funds for a lawyer during the divorce, I find Val's behaviour suspicious. She knows something I don't.

"Val," I say, turning to face her. A couple tourists that were walking behind our group scowl at us for stopping so abruptly, but wind their way around us. "What's going on?"

She flicks her black hair over her shoulder. "Nothing, why?"

I squint at her. "You're not telling me something."

She shakes her head. "Em, you're being silly – I would never keep a secret from you. Besides, I think you should pay more attention to your ice cream, girl. It's starting to melt."

To my dismay, she's right. A creamy, sticky mess with chunks of strawberry compote has started to slide down my wrist. I quickly lick away the melted ice cream and decide to let go of whatever just happened. I know Val is lying to me – she is keeping some type of secret – but I also know that she's stubborn. If she's set her mind to not telling me whatever it is, then that's how it's going to go. Arguing with her would be a waste of my time and energy.

"Well," Rosa says, "I think that's a great idea. Too bad Dad wasn't around – he'd love to see Hainsey."

"Yeah," I smile. "He was the son Dad never had."

Both of us laugh. That used to be the joke whenever he came over. I don't know why, but Dad has always gotten along with Hainsey. Maybe it's their shared interest in hockey or maybe Dad just got a vibe from Hains that said he could be trusted. Whatever the reason, that was always the joke between the two of them: the son Dad had never had. Sometimes I think Hains actually wished it were true. As if I could blame him – look what was happening behind the scenes at home.

That aside, it does suck that Dad isn't here. I would have loved to be able to go mountain biking with him or go to the top of Blackcomb Mountain and hike all day like we used to back in the day. I smile sadly. "Yeah, I wish he could come here and visit me. Seeing him would be a refresher considering how much time I've spent with Mom."

"Right," Val says, "I was going to ask how that was going."

I look at her. To the naked eye, she would be considered beautiful and sexy and normal: her short yellow sundress, naturally tanned skin, silky black hair, and her gladiator-style sandals scream summer in Whistler. But because I'm her best friend and I know her better than anyone, I can tell there's something off about her. Though she's smiling, I can see the look of guilt in the depths of her brown eyes.

Maybe I should press for more information, bug her until I get even a piece of whatever secret she has in that pretty head of hers. But I don't because common sense strikes again: she's never going to tell me unless whoever told her the secret gives her permission to do so. That's just what Val is like – she's reliable.

So I change the subject when I notice a store sign ahead of us. "Hey," I say, nodding ahead and slightly to the left. "Let's go to Roots – I need a new sweater for the arena. You ladies want to help me pick one out?"

"Damn right," Val says, linking her arm with mine.

"Of course," Rosa smiles. "Oh, Emmy, we're going to make you look beautiful before your big night."

"Rosa," I say, rolling my eyes. "All I'm doing is going to watch Hains play hockey – it's no big deal."

My sister scoffs at me. "Emyln. If there's one thing you should know it's that boys love it when their girlfriends come to watch them sweat and exert themselves. Trust me, little sis, tonight is a big night for both you and Hainsey. So after we get you a sexy new sweater, we're taking you home and getting you all prettied up."

I roll my eyes. I know I'm a girl and I should love the idea of someone doing my hair and making sure my makeup is in good condition, but I don't. Normally, I'm barely wearing any makeup. I'm also not a fan of people doing my hair. Though they try to be gentle, there's always the moment where they end up pulling so hard it stings my scalp, or the brush gets caught in the tangles.

But I really can't complain this time. I think it's cute that both Rosa and Val think Hains and I are a good couple. And maybe they're right this time; maybe I do need to look presentable so he can show me off to his hockey buddies. Though I can never picture him being a show off in any way whatsoever, the thought brings a smile to my face. I definitely wouldn't have a problem with him saying I belong to him.

So I shrug and say, "Okay. Let's do this."

* * *

Of course, I have to run home after spending an hour and a half at Val's cottage-style house while her and Rosa worked their magic on me. Thanks to them, I now look like a model – according to Val. When I looked in the mirror, I thought I looked like a really sophisticated clown. The makeup felt too heavy on my face, like an extra layer of skin. I wish I would have declined and said I was good with a thin layer of mascara, some blush, and a bit of concealer.

When I burst through the front door, knowing that I'm tight for time, I nearly knock Mom over. She's just kicking off her runners. I have this urge to ask how business was today, but I bite my tongue. I can't make it seem like she's starting to wear on me. She's like a shark: once there's blood, she goes right for the kill.

So I jog right past her, up the stairs to my bedroom, and quickly dispose of my bags. I think I bought out half of Roots (who can say no to their toques?) and The Body Shop (I can never get enough of their face masks) today. But I'm not upset with the amount of money I spent today – it was all stuff I needed.

Gathering my new sweater (dark grey with the Roots logo on the bottom left, just below the pocket) and a pair of black leggings, I practically skip into the bathroom and change as quickly as possible. Once I'm dressed, I grab my new toque – dark grey just like the sweater – and position it on my head so it looks baggy, but also like it fits, and shows off my bouncy, soft curls that Rosa styled my hair with. Next, I pull on my black Timberland boots. I may look like I'm ready to attend a winter party, but who can blame me? For some strange reason, the arena was always ten degrees colder than need be and I'll bet my ass it still is.

With my bag slung over my shoulder, I exit my bedroom and start heading for my vehicle.

As always, Mom stops me at the top of the stairs.

"Where are you going, Em?" she asks.

Without a single note of hate or annoyance in my voice, and as if her question is the most natural thing I've ever heard, I reply, "I'm going to watch Hains play hockey. Should be back around ten or so."

I mentally smack myself. I'm nineteen! I don't have to tell her where I'm going or what the hell I'm doing. So why am I doing this? Did I not just give myself a mini-pep-talk about how she's a shark? What the hell is wrong with me?

Mom smiles, and for the first time in a long time, it doesn't look forced or fake. It weirds me out, but I don't delve into it. Nothing could possibly ruin my good mood. "That's great, honey," she says, looking me over. If she thinks I'm wearing too much makeup and way too "prettied up" for a hockey game, she doesn't say anything. "Is that all you're taking?" She points at my small bag that holds my iPhone, headphones, lip-gloss, and wallet.

"Yeah," I nod. "Why?"

Mom sets down her glass of wine and walks over to – no wait, she walks past me and to the closet across from my bedroom. I frown and follow her, curious to know what she's up to.

She stops in front of the doors, opens them, and then begins to rummage through the cluttered disaster. My frown deepens. What is she doing?

Finally, after wasting five minutes of valuable time, Mom pulls out an old pair of skates and a scuffed helmet.

My eyes widen. I haven't seen this hockey gear since I was fourteen. I know the skates are going to fit because my feet haven't grown in years, but I question the size of the helmet.

"During the winter," Mom says, "Hainsey is one of the refs for the younger boys' team that plays here in Whistler. He also refs tournaments and other events like that. It's that very reason as to why he sometimes has access to the ice on days when no one is in." Mom shrugs and holds the gear out to me. "Maybe you two could skate for a bit after."

I cautiously take the skates and helmet, cradling them close to my chest. Hains gave the skates to me years ago, when he realized his feet were growing. I'd always been jealous of these skates and had my eye on them since the day he showed them off to the team. I'd been ecstatic when he handed them over to me. Even though his footprint was indented into the sole of the skate and I got some severe blisters the first time I used them, I didn't give up on breaking them in. I glance down at the skates. They're the exact same as I remember: black and white with dark blue and green laces that are fraying at the tips, and a small Canucks sticker near the heel. I smile at the sticker – it's old and you can barely tell what it is, but all that matters is that it's still there.

Biting back a fresh wave of tears that suddenly want to take advantage of me, I look back at my mom. I thought for sure she would have thrown these away – she was never a fan of me playing hockey. She hated the sport and how dangerous it could get, and was never pleased that I played with a bunch of boys. But she didn't. For some godforsaken reason, she's kept them all these years.

"Th-thanks," I stutter, still feeling bewildered that I'm holding these skates.

Mom gives me a small smile. "You're welcome, honey. Now get to the arena."

I turn, blinking rapidly, and head downstairs and out to the car.

I don't understand why my mom would keep something that should seem so insignificant to her for the past five years. To her, I thought they would've simply been an old pair of skates that were taking up space in her closet.

I think back to the things I heard her say that night, five years ago when Rosa and I decided that we would be going with Dad because of what had happened. And back to how she denied any opportunity I gave her to mend this relationship. It's tragic and weighs heavily on my heart.

But...

Five years is a long time.

People change and grow and find their place in this world.

I gently set the skates down on the floor in the back seat of my vehicle, along with the helmet. And before I shut the door, I glance up over my shoulder at the house. In the light of the kitchen, I can see my mom pacing back and forth. She's home alone tonight – my stepfather is out on some work trip, and the boys are at various locations in Whistler hanging with their buddies.

The situation she's in reminds me a little bit of how I was with Hains when I first returned home. I know what it's like to try and win someone back after doing something unexplainably selfish and relentless.

I sigh.

Why does life have to throw contradictions in the equation when you're trying to solve a problem? Seriously. Everything would be so much easier if things were black and white. But that's impossible. We live in a world of colour, of art. Different perceptions and experiences make us who we are.

I sigh again.

Goddamn me and my logical thinking because now I know I'm going to need to have a heart-to-heart conversation with Mom just like I did with Hains.

Just not tonight – tonight is about me and Hains taking a stroll down memory lane.