The Potter's Daughter (Literary Series) (14 page)

“Well that’s easy,” said Mitch.

“Ok, ok.
 
That table over there, the people are
overdressed for the season, their clothes, jackets, and hats.
 
What really spells it out is their
chattiness with each other and how quickly they’re consumed by the time it
takes to either get, eat, or pay for their orders.”

“Very good,” said Mitch, “I can
tell the same thing by their shoes alone.”

“No way.”

“Sure, the locals have proper
winter shoes and boots that are at least slightly worn.
 
The weekender residents have brand new
shoes or loafers for travel from the house, to the car, to the diner and back.”

“Ah,” said Abby, “I see it.”

“And the skiers for the most part
have sneakers on, and if they do have boots, it’s one of the few times they
have ever wore them.”

Abby looked at the feet of the
diner’s patrons and began to laugh.

“You just made that all up,” said
Abby.

“Right this minute,” said Mitch.

Abby thought the diner quaint to
city restaurants and liked the relaxing way the waitress eased over with the
coffee pitcher already in hand to fill their cups, though Abby still ordered
tea.

Mitch wanted to ask Abby about
Will, he knew that must be what was bothering her, yet he did not want to upset
her again now that she had returned to her jubilant self.
 
He continued with small talk and that
was fine with Abby.
 
Mitch told her
about his day, his shopping trip, and his morning playing guitar.
 
He did not tell her of the Ode to Abby,
he thought that would have been creepy.

“Would you look at that,” said
Abby.
 
She had noticed something
outside the window of the diner.

“What?” asked
Mitch.
 
He had missed whatever she had seen.

“I just saw a white mink, or weasel
scurry up that pine right outside the window.
 
That’s rare.”

“You never see them around people,”
said Mitch.

“I think I have only seen one ever
with a white winter coat.”

“You know I had one for a pet when
I was in school,” said Mitch.

“You had a mink, or a weasel, or
whatever that
was?
”

“Well a cousin.
 
I had a ferret named Podo after the
ferret in the movie ‘The Beast Master’.”

“A ferret?
 
Really?”

“Ya, I adopted Podo from some girl
off campus.
 
She didn’t know how to
raise the animal and she gave him the cliché name.
 
Podo was almost starved when I adopted
him.
 
The girl had been feeding him
rabbit food so I had really rescued Podo.”

“Rescued?
 
How so?” asked
Abby.

“Well ferrets are not omnivores
they are carnivores, they cannot digest rabbit food, much easier for them to
digest rabbits, though cat food worked just fine to bring Podo back to health,”
said Mitch.

“Oh that is so sweet.
 
You rescued the little meat eater and
the food chain.”

“Ha
ha
,
sarcasm, nice,” said Mitch.

“I’m sorry,” said Abby.
 
“You were sweet.
 
You are sweet.
 
What ever happened to the little guy?”

“I left Podo with a girl when I
left school one summer for a job and while I was away she gave Podo away and
went off to Europe.”

“Ouch,” said Abby.

“Ya, ouch,” said Mitch.

“Were you and the girl still
together when she left for Europe?”

“Yes, we were together, sort
of.
 
I mean there had been a mutual
break up because the girl had graduated so…”

“I see,” said Abby.

“Ya, she was the first love of my
life and I thought I was mature enough to handle the separation and ended up
heartbroken.
 
I continued writing
letters throughout the next school year and eventually followed her to Europe
only to finally realize the relationship was over.
 
Then I went to Prague to drink away the
sorrow of love lost in the most romantic city in Europe, if anywhere.”

“Prague, how beautiful,” said Abby.

“If you are ever a young adult just
out of college and want to go somewhere to forget your problems, Prague is, or
was the place to go,” said Mitch.

“I wish I had known that when I
finished school,” said Abby, “I could have used a place to forget about the
loss of my brother.”

“You know I formed a band in high
school that only knew three chords?” said Mitch.

“Three chords eh?”
 
Abby lifted her brow.
 
She knew what Mitch was doing.

“We played a lot of parties then
ended up breaking up because I only wanted to write ballads.”

“I so want to hear a sample.
 
Lyrics please,” said Abby.

“I assure you that they are all
long forgotten and that if I did remember any I am pretty sure they all sounded
the same, some corny rhyme scheme pertaining to topics of the teenage mind.”

“That sounds appropriate for high
school.
 
Not good at all?”

“Well mostly they were rip-offs of
other ballads I had heard.”

“My troubadour,” said Abby,
genuinely impressed, “how are your rhyme schemes now?”

Mitch leaned back in his side of
the booth, straightening his torso, “I am proud to say that after high school I
moved away from the ballads to political songs in college.
 
Then on to poetry for a while, the kind
that you needed a decoder ring for.
 
That all gave way to the study of English and Philosophy, which involved
so much of my time that everything else just got pushed to the back.”
 
This was not the truth exactly.
 
Mitch always played his guitar and sang
what was on his mind however at risk of being exposed, he stuck to his story.

“You have to share some of those
old poems with me some time,” said Abby.

“I would like that,” said Mitch,
and he was sincere.
 
The idea of
sharing with Abby anything from his heart made the very moment more intimate,
“and one day I will.”

“Promise me troubadour,” said Abby.

“That’s a promise,” said Mitch.

Some time had passed since they had
left Brian and Caroline so they decided to head back.
 
As they walked to the fairgrounds Abby
took Mitch’s hand.

“Will you be attending the Winter
Slush Fest this year,” asked Abby.

Mitch squeezed Abby’s hand,
“Wouldn’t miss it.”

* * *
* *

When Mitch and Abby entered the
arena Brian and some of the other players were already maneuvering out on the
ice by passing the puck indiscriminately to each other.
 
The music was louder then earlier,
AC/DC’s ‘You Shook Me All Night Long’ echoed out of the huge speakers
surrounding the pavilion.
 
Abby used
to think AC/DC was a hard rock band when she was young, outside the edge of
tolerable listening by adult standards.
 
Now AC/DC sounded to her like a blues band, hard blues, yet a blues band
all the same.
 
Mitch picked up his
gear and headed into the locker room to change.

“Thanks,” said Abby.

“For what?”

“I appreciate you taking the time
to… well, thanks.”
 
Abby swung her
hands to her front and clasped them together.

“No problem, I’ll see you in a few
minutes,” said Mitch.
 
Abby scoured
the sporadically filled bleachers that circled the rink and found Caroline
across from where she stood feeding the twins out of a white paper sack.
 
They had not seen her and Mitch come in
so Abby took the moment to look again out onto the rink.
 
She did not miss the irony of her
past.
 
She had just sent a boy into
the locker room and was about to go sit next to Caroline to watch the fellas
play hockey.
 
Her lungs felt fuller
when she breathed in and her legs weightless, a warm breeze moved through the
arena past her toward the opening doors behind.
 
So many things changed since they were
kids in school, yet in her stomach was that old familiar pain, and as she made
her way around to the end of the rink, she thought of how she liked the way
Mitch had firmly held her hand walking over, how she still felt like he was
holding her hand.

Abby made her way up the bleachers
past other spectators to Caroline and sat next to Andrew.
 
Caroline offered her a paper sack full
of French Fries, and Abby gladly accepted.
 
She had not eaten any thing since this morning and she thought that
could be contributing to her emotional day.

 
“There doesn’t seem to be more than one
team on the ice,” said Abby.

 
“It’s actually a pickup game
tonight.
 
They all play
together.
 
The real contest comes at
the winter carnival when other teams come in,” said Caroline.

“Is that so?”

“The boys say these ongoing games
are preparation.”

“Preparation for what exactly?”

“Defending the honor of Willow Lake
when the festival rolls around.”

“Have there been any hockey wins
like when we were kids?”

“Despite some of the older fellas
out there, Willow Lake still manages to hold its own,” said Caroline.

Mitch entered the rink with high
fives from some of the nearest skaters.
 
The thirty-seven year old boy glided into
the middle of the other players and immediately fell into play.
 
What happened next was choosing of sides
and three periods of action that involved no high sticking, little checking,
and quite a bit of cycling of the players to keep them fresh.
 
Abby had seen many practice games that
had more vigor.
 
The players tried
to hold their youth yet when the steel hit the ice, their age was
revealed.
 
To say that the players
were kind to each other would be an overstatement, though they certainly were
respectful.
 
The puck did get a lot
of movement though and no one stayed still for long.
 
Brian and Mitch played against each
other and the end score tallied two to one, and not due to lack of play.
 
Neither side had allowed the other to
score, regardless of attempts on the net.

Caroline and Abby, as well as other
watching family members and friends, enjoyed the game.
 
After the last period was finished, the
girls and twins went down to the boards to see the fellas and to compliment
them on a good game.
 
Brian and
Mitch glistened with sweat and each had a hand towel to wipe their face and
dripping brow.
 
Caroline raised both
hands, cheered, and clapped as she had throughout the game.
 
Caroline was possibly their biggest fan
next to Lilly, cheering the whole time as well.
 
The boys smiled and waved as they went
to the locker room to clean up and get their gear together before heading over
to the Stone Tavern.

Caroline was not surprised when
Abby told her that she wanted to stay in the village to have a beer with the
boys at the tavern.
 
She asked Abby
if she needed anything before she went then gave her cousin a hug and a kiss on
the cheek.
 
Abby reminded Caroline
that there was wine in the back of the car.
 
Caroline told her that she would take
care of the wine and then opened the doors of the pavilion into the new dark
night.

While Abby waited for the boys to
finish in the locker room, she sat on the bottom bleacher and leaned back
against the seats behind her with both hands in her pockets.
 
The teal Zamboni was rounding the rink
and Journey played on the sound system.
 
She thought that when fifty years should pass the ice rink would still
be playing Journey.
 
She closed her
eyes and thought about a boy she knew in junior high school that danced with
her to a Journey song so many years ago.
 
His name was Bobby Haremon.
 
Bobby was skinny, shorter than her, with dark hair, and dark eyes.
 
He was funny, and cute as a button.
 
To dance then was to hold each other
close, a loose hug really, and move slowly in a circle.
 
Thinking back, the dance was not so
spectacular, however Journey and the right boy, was the recipe to swoon in his
arms.
 
Though she wanted him to, she
did not let Bobby kiss her, that was not some thing she did in junior
high.
 
There were other boys and
other dances and there was always Journey, “perhaps that was the formula,” she
thought.

* * *
* *

Abby continued to daydream until
she heard the players start to exit the locker room.
 
Mitch was happy to see that Abby had
stayed behind.
 
He walked over to
greet her and make sure that she was on board for a beer.
 
Abby took the hockey stick from him and
the two went out into the night, first to stow Mitch’s gear in his truck and
then to meet everyone else inside the tavern.