“Oh.” Phil had forgotten that he had said that he wanted to see his wife do another single axel.

But he couldn’t bring himself to re-lace his skates.

Because he didn’t want to see her do another single axel. And he didn’t want to be at Echo Lake.

Marci saw Phil make no effort to lace his skates back up.

So she started undoing her skates—and made sure that he knew she was angry as she did. Because she didn’t want to leave. “I mean,” she griped, “we just got here.”

“You’re right. Sorry,” said Phil. And he started reluctantly lacing his skates back up.

“No. Forget it. Let’s go.”

“Sorry—it’s just … my mind’s not here.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“And I’m kinda cold,” groused Phil. Marci looked at her husband and wanted to say, “Liar.” Because it wasn’t cold. It was nineteen degrees. And Marci wasn’t cold yet. And if she wasn’t cold, there was no way that Phil was cold.

He just didn’t want to be there. And Marci knew it.

“Okay. Fine,” said Marci, in a way that made Phil know it wasn’t fine.

And, even though he knew it wasn’t fine that he wanted to go, Phil couldn’t bring himself to make any effort to stay.

So he and Marci unlaced their skates. And the air got heavy with disappointment and dissatisfaction as they did. It felt like what the air in their house felt like when they had been arguing. Or like when they were just about to argue. It was a feeling similar to when the barometric pressure changes before a storm comes.

But they hadn’t been arguing.

Maybe that was just what the air around them was like now.

“I mean, if you really wanna stay, we can stay,” offered Phil halfheartedly, trying not to seem like the bad guy.

“It’s okay, Phil.”

“Well, I feel like it’s not okay. I feel like you’re mad.”

“I’m not mad!”

Phil wanted to say, “Then don’t act like you’re mad,” but wisely did not. And, instead, just said, “Okay.”

And Marci and Phil unlaced their skates in silence.

And soon, Phil had taken off his old CCMs and had put his Red Wings back on. And he took one of the towels from the old hockey duffel and wiped the snow and ice off his skate blades so they wouldn’t rust, and then slid his skate guards on them to protect them. Meanwhile, Marci had pulled off her skates. And she slid on one of her new black waterproof slip-on faux-suede winter shoes. And then went to slide on her other new black waterproof slip-on faux-suede winter shoe.

But she couldn’t find it.

She looked underneath where she was sitting.

And she looked around her.

But it was nowhere to be found.

Which was weird.

Because it had to be there. Somewhere.

She was just about to ask Phil if he had seen her other shoe when he said, “We don’t have to go.”

“Phil, you don’t wanna be here, so let’s go.”