Adulting
The holiday spirit seemed to jump out of every one once December first rolled around, the decorations, lights, the festivities spontaneously came out overnight. Apparently it took the Secret Santas and Holiday adverts on TV to prepare and organise two weeks in advance. Every year something new came to light in Vivians eyes. Somehow I found myself being forced into doing all the jolly stuff with Mrs. Clause herself.
I sat down on the bench in between two rather talkative people, attempting to shove my foot into the clunky black ice skates as they talked over me. I was not comfortable and the skates didn’t feel right on my feet. Glancing up at Vivian slowly, I noticed she was already standing up. Perfectly tied skates, standing with ease, she took one look at my shoelaces and rolled her eyes.
“I want to feel comfortable when I die, okay?” I shrugged.
Ignoring the disturbed looks I got from the talkative pair I was squished between, Vivian walked over to me and bent down way too easily. “Winnie, do you really think I’d bring you somewhere where the possibility of your death was higher than 1 in 83?”
“Uh, yes.”
“No.” She sighed and finished tying my laces, effectively putting my procrastination to a halt and making her way over to the rink. “Not at Christmas time.”
“Thank God for your holiday spirit.”
“Free will is a thing. I believe it should be me your thanking. No?”
“Thank you, for the momentary extension of my life, I’m grateful to be able to eat you stuffing.”
She gave me a look. “What?”
I stared at her, hard. “Christmas. Turkey, Stuffing, Yours?”
Pulling her mind from the gutter and looking away. “Welcome.”
Instead of taking the hand she offered, I looped my arm through hers as she dragged her graceful self and my awkward one onto the ice. Quickly releasing myself from her grip and grabbed one of the bars at the side of the rink. As I refused to wear the gloves she bought me, my hands were numb in a matter of seconds.
Like she hadn’t noticed my wild scrambling towards the side, she flew off into the center and jumped into a spin and landed with grace on one foot. She had a history on the ice and there I was, barely able to stand without falling on the ice, nevermind move.
I was content with letting my fingers get frostbite and fall off, staying at the side and watching the kids race with the cones, hockey kids with their sticks and pucks, and Vivian who continued to show off her tricks.
After a while, I was sure my fingers had frostbite and Vivian glided over to me. She held her hands out expectantly, “we do this every year, you’re still the same terrified seventeen-year-old.”
Prying my fingers away from the frozen pole, I grabbed her hands and she skated backwards pulling me into the center. “In my defence, nineteen is only two years from seventeen.”
“You’re an adult,” she stated.
“Surprisingly, a kind of functional one at that.”
“One who refuses to wear the gloves I got you.”
Yes, because I’m sure Shrek shouts mature.”
She looked at her own black, plain gloves and smirks. “It’s not the appearance, dear Winnifred, it’s the function and purpose of which they serve. If you’re able to look past the appearance and reap the benefits of the warmth; that screams maturity.”
“So what? You’re testing my adulting ability?” I scoffed.
She wore a sly little smile. “And if I am?”
I chewed the inside of my cheek as I thought of a response. “What’s my score now?”
“Failing. Miserably.”
“Sounds like an honest reflection of my test habits.”
She held one of my arms in the air above my head and somehow managed to spin me.Of course, as soon as it came to me standing still and allowing someone other than me to take control-an easy role to play- I had to go and screw it up with my clumsiness. The clunky skates accidentally clipped each other and I tumbled. Tumbled straight into the waiting arms of my best friend. Barely keeping my upright by holding onto my waist, I gave up.
I ended up going limp and slouching, slowly sliding down her body until I was lying on my back quite safely on the cold, hard ice.
Vivian stared down at me with a blank expression, head tilted to the side. “Are you telling me your inability to skate comes from your habit of miserable failure through life?”
I slipped the stolen glove on my hand. “Any form of skating? Quite possibly.” wiggling my fingers, I grinned as she grabbed it. “But hey, I’m pretty sure I’m adulting at 50% right now.” I gave her a cheeky grin.
She squeezed my gloved hand. “The assessment was already marked, dummy.”
“Oh.”
“Sorry.”
She didn’t look sorry at all.
