Wednesday, 29 December 2004 | Distraction on ice

Todd thought it might be a good distraction for me if I busied myself with something I don't normally do. He suggested that I go ice skating in the park, and reluctantly agreed to go along, despite the fact that he'd never been ice skating, and despite the fact that it terrified him.

Although I own a pair of roller skates, I've only been ice skating once, in the middle of a mall in North Carolina, when I was ten. And yet I was awarded the role of "expert"—not because of any real skill I possess, but simply because of Todd's tangible fear. Early on, I saw it was my job to pretend to know the procedure and to explain how to move your feet. I confidently offered made-up wisdom, like, "Always lean forward; never lean back!" not actually knowing whether it was protocol. It seems logical, though, right?

This also meant stifling my own fears and forging ahead like a professional. Moments after I got on the ice (after accidentally letting some panicked words slip out of my mouth), I stood (shakily) five feet away, held an arm out to him, and encouraged him to approach. It looked a lot like coaxing a child to take his first steps, except that the child's eyes were unusually big with fear, and he kept shaking his head "no." "It's easy!" I lied. "Just grab onto me; I've got you!" I lied again.

Todd's gloved hand gripped mine like a vice, and we slowly slid on our blades in a crowded circle—first, near the wall, and eventually closer to the center of the circle, where the cocky people were skating. I didn't immediately notice when it began to snow.

Our laps around the ice were without incident (we didn't fall), except for the moment when an obnoxious young kid skated between us, ducking under our tightly gripped hands. I watched the able skaters rather enviously, the ones who made ice skating appear deceptively easy and moved around like liquid. To our benefit, though, Todd and I were at the rewarding stage of improving exponentially with each lap. Also, it was scarier for us, and therefore more exciting.

I skated the last few laps alone, feeling increasingly brave, but I opted not to give into it and try something stupid. Todd watched from the side, from where he (believably) insisted that he was having a good time.