November was nobody’s favourite month in Upstate New York, but it was Sam’s. Sure, the leaves left the trees, days became shorter, and the weather turned cold, but that last bit meant something good. Cold weather—namely, November 1st—marked the start of the outdoor arena in his city’s main square. And that meant the return of the figure skater.
For the past four years, Sam ate his lunch on the same park bench in the city square twelve months out of the year—weather permitting, of course. In the warmer months, he munched on assorted raw vegetables, sourdough bread, and cheddar cheese while he watched the people and birds mill noisily about. But between November and March, he sipped chicken noodle soup while watching the most beautiful creature he had ever beheld execute camel spins, lutzes and toe loops with ease.
She was probably thirty or so, not much younger than he was. But whereas he felt so plain in his everyday hospital scrubs (he was a radiologist), figure skater was stark in her beauty. Her hair was jet-black, forever in a high ponytail, and her eyes were wide and dark. If Sam were to guess, he would say she was Japanese. She wore hoodies from Universities all over the world—almost as if she collected them. But he could have sworn he overheard her say, “Arigatou,” to the skate vendor one day.
It puzzled Sam that she rented her skates. She was so talented. It was clear she had been skating for most of her life. How was it that she didn’t have a pair of her own? He had thought about speaking to the vendor, asking for her skate size and buying her a pair, but he decided against it. He didn’t want her worrying about having a stalker. In fact, all Sam wanted was to watch her skate, to take in her effortless artistry and silently give her thanks.
And so this November 1st, Sam awoke with eager anticipation. It didn’t matter that his day was filled with the same numbing stress it always was. And it didn’t matter that he had a meeting with the department heads at 4 pm. Figure skater would be there.
Except she wasn’t. And she wasn’t there the next day, nor the day after that.
The pang of longing in Sam’s chest surprised him. He didn’t even know this woman! And it had been seven months since he’d seen her last. She had probably moved or found another place to skate or given up the hobby entirely. How would he ever know? He wouldn’t. And what was more, it was none of his business.
By the fourth of November, Sam made a decision. He would ask the skate vendor about her. He’d pretend to be a friend maybe, or a co-worker. He would express concern, something that was, of course, genuine though perhaps not readily understood by most.
He’d say she hadn’t shown up at work, wasn’t answering her phone and that he and the rest of the team were all worried about her. He’d say they all knew she skated in the park at lunch and that’s why he was here, asking questions. It was all very normal and not at all stalk-y.
Yikes, thought Sam. This was nuts.
*excerpt from The Re-Emergence of Katie Street by Danielle Hines
Photo by Pavel Danilyuk from Pexels
