Page 4 of Thin Ice

"So," she said. "Catch me up. How's everything?"

"You know most of it."

"I want the in-person version."

"The in-person version is the same. Marcus got probation. Alex got cleared. We're back to training in January."

She watched me for a second.

"Tell me about him," she said instead.

"About who?"

"About who?" She gave me a look. "About Alex. I know about his father, and I know about the hearing, and I know about the rowing. I don't know about him. What's he like?"

I pushed a noodle around my plate.

"He's — " I started, and realized I'd never had to describe Alex to anyone who hadn't already met him. "He's smart. He's three moves ahead of everyone in the room and nobody knows it. He drinks fancy lattes… and he irons his jeans."

"He irons his jeans?"

"He doesn't even know he does it. That's how he was raised. Everything in its place."

"And he's with you." She said it with a small smile.

"Yeah. And I own one button-down and it's from Target."

"That's a good shirt."

"Mom."

"It is. I picked it out." She took a bite, chewed, swallowed. "Is he kind?"

"Yeah. He is."

"Is he kind to you?"

"Yeah, Mom. He's kind to me." I met her eyes and felt the heat behind mine. "He's the kindest person I've ever met who was also raised by a monster."

She was quiet a second. The fridge changed registers.

"Good," she said. "That's the one that matters."

She changed lanes the way she always did, no signal.

"How's the rowing? And I don't mean the drama, I mean the rowing." A little light came back into her. "Fourth at the Charles. My son. I told everyone at the hospital. Deb thinks a regatta is a type of pasta."

I laughed. "It was a program record. Both schools."

"In the boat with Alex?"

I nodded.

"So, what's next?"

"Winter training. There's a quad — four of us, both schools mixed, and it's fast, Mom. There's talk about Henley. England, next summer." I shrugged. "Past that, I don't know."

And then it surfaced, the thing I'd somehow sat on for weeks.