Between now and the beginning of the year, Pamela has met with her family twice. She, her stepfather, and her brothers went out to lunch two weeks ago, and then last week she went to see a movie with them. Today, since her stepfather had work to do in the city, she took care of her brothers for the whole day. For a while they stayed at her apartment, watching television and talking about school; she made them lunch, helped them with their homework, and then afterward she took them ice-skating. The day was joyful and relaxing, as the previous two encounters have been. What was different today was that it was her mother who came to pick the boys up.
Pamela saw her coming from the ice, and the sight of her made her colder than any of the tumbles she had taken already. She pulled Evan and Eric to an abrupt halt, almost making the couple behind them crash into them. The young man pulled his partner away, cursing; Pamela hardly heard him.
“What’s wrong?” Eric asked her.
At the edge of the rink, Angela stopped, her arms folded around her, and not just for warmth.
“Nothing,” Pamela said. She nudged her brothers. “You guys keep skating. I’ll be back.” She cut across the center of the rink, gliding through the stream of skaters to where her mother waited on the other side of the partition.
Angela lifted her chin. “William’s meeting went long,” she explained. “He and I were supposed to meet for dinner.”
“Oh,” Pamela said. “Well, thanks for telling me.” Her tone was not thankful.
Angela’s face lost some of the redness it had received from the cold air. She went on as if Pamela hadn’t spoken. “So I’m going to take the boys and head home. William said if you don’t mind eating late, he might join you for dinner instead.”
“Fine with me,” Pamela answered coolly.
“Right,” Angela said after a stiff moment. “Well—”
“Mom!” Evan skidded to a halt in front of the divide. “What are you doing here?”
His younger brother wavered after him, swinging his arms to maintain his balance. Pamela hastily went to his rescue, laughing and scooping him up into her arms. “Still need a little practice, huh, buddy?”
Eric threw his arms around her neck. “Yeah! Can we come back tomorrow?”
Pamela glanced at her mother. “Nah, sweetie, not tomorrow, but maybe we will one more time before it’s spring. I’ll talk to Dad.”
“But I have to practice,” Eric protested. “Can’t you come out to see us? We have an ice skating rink, don’t we, Mommy?”
“It’s roller skating, stupid,” Evan said, shaking his head. “But you should still come, Pam! It’s fun! I went there for my friend Danny’s birthday party last summer.”
“Did you?” Pamela asked, putting her arm around him. “Well, that does sound fun. Maybe I will come sometime.”
“Yes!” both boys cheered.
Angela cleared her throat. “All right, boys, we’ve got driving to do. Go return your skates and get your things. I’ll be right here.”
The boys skated off, pushing each other. Still wearing a small smile, Pamela turned back to her mother. The smile faded.
Angela cleared her throat. “Thank you for taking them today,” she said.
“I’m not a babysitter, Mom,” Pamela replied. She was calm, partly because of me standing right behind her, partly because she had anticipated an encounter like this in her mind. “I like spending time with my family.”
Angela’s jaw tightened. “Funny way to show it,” she muttered. She turned to walk away, but Pamela followed, the rope partition still between them.
“Dad’s already forgiven me for everything,” Pamela pointed out. “He’s not mad at me anymore, and he was the one with the right to be. What are you still mad about?”
“I don’t want to fight with you, Pamela.” Angela turned away from the rink.
“Neither do I,” Pamela said, ducking under the rope and hobbling after her mother on solid ground. The sincerity in her voice—and a small nudge from me—made Angela stop and turn back. Pamela looked at her with sad eyes. “It’s a real question. Why are you still angry at me?”
Angela didn’t say anything for a long moment, staring at her daughter. Then she sighed. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “At this point I think it’s just habit.”
“Well, I’m trying to make things right,” Pamela said. “All I want is for you to try a little bit, too. Is that so wrong?” Her voice was gentle, and her hands, too, as she reached out for her mother’s arm.
For a moment—just an instant—Angela’s hard mouth softened. I made certain that Pamela saw it, though.
And then the boys came running up, backpacks swinging from their shoulders, and the moment was lost in the busyness. Pamela remembered it, though, throughout the production of getting the boys through the crowd and back to where Angela had parked.
“Are you still coming next Friday, Pam?” Evan asked her as he hugged her goodbye.
“Of course! I wouldn’t miss it.” She glanced at her mother. “Dad and I are going to take the boys to play some pick-up basketball,” she explained. “I know you don’t play, but you could come and keep score.”
“Yeah, Mommy!” Eric cried enthusiastically. “It’ll be fun!”
Angela got into the car, glancing back to make sure her sons were secure. “We’ll see,” she said, and while her tone wasn’t enthusiastic, it wasn’t entirely antagonistic, either.
They drove away, and Pamela waved as they disappeared into the late afternoon traffic. For the first time in a long time, she has hope that her mother will come around, and so do I.