Stan was back shortly, Mikhal in tow. And Ekaterin, and Krista. "Delia!" Krista said, smiling broadly. "I didn't know you were back yet!" I came around the counter for a hug.
"Not quite a week yet. It's good to be back," I said.
"Chat later," MIkhal directed, and John hit play again. Partway through, Mikhal and Ekaterin started shooting Russian at each other. "Would the composer be open to working on this a bit to modify?" Arthur wasn't in love with his work and he wanted the exposure that his music being played internationally would bring him.
"I'm sure he'll work with you if you commit to using it. There are a couple places where it would need to be intensified for dramatic effect for some jumps," I said. He smiled. "I told him that and he was fine with it. I'll give you his contact information."
As I printed the information on the back of the rink's business card, Mikhal patted my brother on the shoulder. "You're lucky that your sister is looking out for you. This is a better option than the others we were considering. You've left your music selection too long and you're pushing it, again."
"We can use your improved footwork," Ekaterine said to Stan, smiling at me. "It will showcase your personality well and appeal to the audience."
Todd and Nancy edged forward as Mikhal towed my brother back to his office, Ekaterin opening the door for them. "Hey, do you know any other musicians?" Nancy asked me. "Because we were looking for something kind of neo-classical for next year. Unlike your brother, we're thinking ahead." I thought about it.
"I met some people through Arthur," I said slowly. "I don't have phone numbers but I could give you their school emails. They'll still be checking that until grades come out, at least." There were two people, graduating this summer, who wrote the kind of music they liked, and I put their information on the back of another card. They thanked me and left, Todd telling me that he'd call me later. "What?" I asked John, who was looking at me funny.
"I'm just surprised that you're still friends with your ex and willing to do him a favor," he said.
"There are reasons I liked him beyond his magic penis," I explained reasonably. "And he used to play me this beautiful music that he composed. It would be nice if other people got to hear it too." John flushed, but whatever he was going to say was interrupted by a new group of skaters, kids and their parents.
Krista had drifted away as we sorted out the skaters, but came back and wanted to catch up over lunch, so I got my purse and I took an early lunch. "What did you tell John that got him all discombobulated?" she asked curiously as we looked at the menus.
"He's surprised that I'd be willing to do my ex a good turn," I shrugged, and chose the French onion soup. It was a little nippy that day, and I'd be a little concerned about Paul's cookout, but the Tangs had patio heaters. "So I said that there were several reasons that I'd been with him."
"I thought you guys were going to get back together," she said. So I explained. I was getting a real patter down. "Well, if you're sure he's not just stringing you along... I don't think he'd do that to consciously, but you do represent a safety net." Then she changed the subject and I asked her questions about work and her boyfriend; things were going well for her in both categories.
"Marc's probably not going to say anything to you about it, but his girlfriend really did a number on him," she said, switching topics abruptly. "He thought things were fine; a week before, the were even talking about buying a house together," she said seriously. "Then one day he got a text--not even a phone call!--that she'd accepted a job in Miami. And she'd upped and moved out of her apartment before he got off work. Didn't even get his key back from him. Left hers to his apartment in an envelope on the door. Didn't even bother to open the door and place it inside." She shook her head. "I'd kill the bitch if she was still around for treating him like that. I know what a good person you are, I just wanted to make you aware of the circumstances. Emotionally, forget scarring, he's not even scabbed over yet and he's still probably bleeding inside. He's going out to St Louis to look at some skaters, but I wouldn't be surprised if he's evaluating whether he could make a new start there.," she said softly as we were served. I stared at her in dismay.
"I had no idea that it was that bad," I said. "All he said was that she'd broken up with him."
"I did some digging around, then hired a PI down there to get some proof once I had a lead. Turns out that she dumped him for some older rich guy. Met him online. She doesn't even have a job. Don't worry, I have no intention of ever telling Marc," she said when I opened my mouth. "But I needed to know for myself what was going on."
I was still reeling from this calamity when we went back to the rink, but I covered it and John went to lunch. It was up to Marc to share the information really, but I was glad that Krista had told me. I'd have to be extra careful with him. Then a team from a rec league showed up for practice, and I was busy counting players for the coach, taking in skates to be sharpened, and alerting my boss when a couple of kids wanted to make a purchase in the small shop that the rink had for both figure skaters and hockey players. The rest of the afternoon was peaceful, John was back to normal, and I had enough time when I got off shift to go home to change to a nicer shirt and grab a hoodie before going over to the Tang's.
I got there before most of Paul's friends and he opened my present right away, a blue UCLA t-shirt. The design on it was 'weathered' so it didn't look brand new, and the graphic was cool. I'd planned for it to be a bit big, but now that I'd seen him I was worried that it would fit at all. He dashed into the house and came back wearing it; it fit, but it was snug and he seemed delighted. John and his mom got home as I was listening to him telling me about high school. He seemed to be having a pretty good time although he was getting a little apprehensive; college was coming into focus with the promise of ACTs and SATs next year.
"Where do you want to apply?" I asked, sipping at a diet Coke that Mr Tang had given me. I suspected that John had made sure that my beloved beverage would be available.
"Caltech, Stanford, USC, UCLA," he said. "In-state, you know, but they're really good schools."
I nodded. "I'll never speak to you if you go to USC, though." He laughed, but looked a little worried. "Just kidding. Keshondra goes there and we still speak." He still looked nervous, so I poked him. "Go wherever you want. I have to put in a plug for UCLA, though, my roommate is in aerospace engineering, she's doing an internship this summer at SpaceX. She works really hard, I rarely saw her, but she says it's fantastic."
John plopped down in the seat next to me and handed his brother a package. "Happy birthday, dork." Paul rolled his eyes but ripped into the package, which turned out to be a book on engineering. A textbook, I should say. "It's the book they use for a general intro to engineering class," John said. "Sorry it's used, but those things are really expensive."
"Dude," Paul's friend Jake said, leaning forward. "Cool. A real college textbook."
"Wow," Paul said. Then more of his friends arrived and John and I retreated a bit to let them crowd around. Mrs Tang came out and started grilling--Mr Tang was a menace with fire and wasn't permitted to man the grill anymore after he almost set fire to the house once. We had our choice of hamburgers or grilled salmon--most of Paul's friends had burgers but the salmon was delicious. There was a devil's food cake, entirely appropriate, and ice cream, both delicious, but then I do love my sweets. I chatted with John's parents for a bit, thanked them for the dinner, then hugged the birthday boy, told John I'd see him later, and went home. I had several months of cat deprivation to catch up on and I wanted to spend more time with Grandpa.
Stan came over around eight and told me that they'd gotten in touch with Arthur, who was perfectly amenable to adding to his composition. "Finally," Grandpa said, ribbing him. "I was beginning to think that you'd never get in gear and choose your music. You'd look pretty funny out there just pantomiming and jumping with no context." Stan made a face.
"My costume is pretty much just basic black, it'll go with anything," he said. "He's also got something better that I can use for my short program. I was prepared to not like him, but he's not the as--- jerk-- that I thought he'd be."
"That's because he's not a jerk," I said crisply. Stan grunted and we talked about other things. Grandpa put up a calendar where we could each write down our schedule and activities so that it would be easier to decide on times for cooking classes. We decided on Tuesday night for the first one, then he wandered out to the kitchen to take a call.
"So what's going on with Marc?" Stan asked me. "Has John still got his thumb up his ass?"
"Ew," I said, curling my lip at my brother. "As far as I know, his thumbs are on the exterior of his anatomy. But he's got a girlfriend. Marc and I went to hear a quartet in the park, we're going to the beach on Sunday. It's nothing serious, I go back to school in September, but there's no reason we can't have fun."
"Yeah, that's fine, but something went really wrong with his girlfriend, I don't know what, but he looked gutted there for awhile. Just be extra careful with him."
"I'd planned to," I said, and he accepted that, moving on to other topics.
"Forgot this," he said, and handed me a flash drive, different from the one I'd given him. "It's my next English assignment. Could you read it and tell me what you think?"
"Sure," I said, and put it in my pocket so that Shuri wouldn't think it was a toy.
The rest of the week went by pretty quickly. Stan's paper was not good, and I wondered how he'd made it out of high school. I printed it out and marked it up with proofreader's marks, which I then had to explain to him. I had to arrange a tutoring session to help with his writing skills. His ideas and knowledge were good, it's just that he had trouble expressing them on paper. We did that Saturday after work (Grandpa had a date) because he was embarrassed and rueful that he hadn't taken advantage of his education. The perils of coasting along. The initial fix was easy enough--record himself talking about the topic and transcribe it. He spoke well enough, and then I helped him learn to proofread--looking for errors in sentence structure, verb tense, punctuation, and stupid stuff like typos and capitalization errors. Then I took back the copy of the report that I'd marked up and told him I'd proofread the second draft. My grades were excellent--Fiat Lux was a pass and all my other grades were As, except for a B in Calculus. Well, it was a really hard class and I was happy with that. Grandpa made me a special dinner to celebrate.
Sunday, I threw shorts and a t-shirt over my favorite bikini and checked my bag--towel, sunglasses, water bottle, lots of sunscreen, a little cash just in case, keys--before braiding my hair and trotting out the door with Marc. It was supposed to be a nice warm day, sunny, and certainly there weren't any clouds in the sky when we got to the beach. I got a beach umbrella and Marc put sunscreen on my back so that I wouldn't burn when I ventured out. I saw scars form that horrible accident on his leg that went under his shorts; he didn't take off his t-shirt, so there must be more underneath, and surgical scars on his ankle and knee. It was afternoon before we spent an appreciable amount of time in the water and even then we came out frequently to warm up. We packed up around four and I returned the umbrella. I'd gotten some tips on good places for beginners to surf and the warning to wear booties to avoid getting my feet cut on the rocks. We walked back to the parking lot hand in hand.
It was pretty easy to fall into a routine; there was work, cooking class with Grandpa and Stan once a week, time with the girls which sometimes overlapped with time at the skateboard park, some activities with John, and dates a couple of nights a week with Marc. It was July before I saw the surgical scar on his shoulder and the messier scars on his side and the ones on his leg that ran almost up to his hip. No wonder he hadn't gone back to competition; his shoulder had required screws to put back together and I'd have been worried about my ability to support my partner and throw her too. We didn't talk about them much and he relaxed after he saw that I wasn't repelled by them.
I didn't seem my parents all that much; Grandpa had a cookout for Independence Day and we went over to their condo for Stan's birthday party. My birthday party was at Grandpa's and so was the Labor Day cookout.
The summer was fun; Paul and two of his friends were hired at the rink. It was fun to work with them, they were nice kids.I went to lunch with Krista occasionally and one of the perks of employment was that you didn't have to pay to skate, so I spent a lot more time on the ice, sometimes by myself but more frequently with friends, and Marc continued to teach me little pairs skating things. I enjoyed skating with him. The skater's showcase was interesting; there were a lot more skaters training there now. Stan's programs were rough but were going to be spectacular. I recorded his performance for a special treat for Johanna. John and I explored Golden Gate Park more and I loved spending time with my friends; we skateboarded less and mostly just hung out together, talking; we had no shortage of conversation. I heard from Johanna--she was having a ball on her internship and Serafina was working as a kind of gopher at a law firm but her consolation was that Virgil Munoz, the guy she'd met at the party at the end of spring break and dated ever since, lived about an hour and a half away and they saw each other a lot.
Mom insisted on taking me clothes shopping for college, and after I couldn't get out of it, submitted. She got me some really nice jeans, my first suit, cute tops, and a couple pairs of shoes. She still irritated me, but at least she was trying. Some of the girls had gone back to college before my birthday, so they called and sent cards and little gifts, and my friends who were still around took me out for a lunch-time celebration. And a couple weeks after that, it was time to go back to school. I had my move-in date and this time I knew my roommates were going to be ok. I said goodbye to Marc; we'd had a lot of fun and I think he felt better. I didn't know whether he was going to stay at Duke's Crossing or not. Grandpa helped me pack my car and I cried a little as I pulled out on the highway, but the tears soon dried up as anticipation for the second year took over.
Zero Week, here I come.