“I cannot believe you, Bianca.” Bianca’s mother opened the trunk of her Mercedes. Inside were three garment bags, a makeup case, and four shoe boxes. Each box had a different name brand plastered on the outside. Two were high heels, and the other two were flats.

Bianca was sobbing. Standing in line ten minutes ago, Bianca and her mother, Tabitha, were waiting for a ticket to get inside the skating rink. Tabitha didn’t want a ticket, much less to go inside. It was beneath her, but she didn’t want to give her teen daughter a new one-hundred-dollar bill either. Mother expected a lot from her child, pouring thousands of dollars into tap, ballet, jazz, and ballroom dancing classes. Bianca wasn’t good at any of them, but skating? She excelled in skating, learning to do all kinds of moves while Tabitha skied.   

There was only one place Tabitha would allow Bianca to skate. That was the Golden Skate. It was the place to be on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday nights, and this Friday was no exception. All of her friends were waiting in line, and Bianca arrived late. If there was one thing Tabitha hated, it was being late. And Bianca’s friends weren’t about to hold a place in line for her, not when her mother could and would rent out the rink for her birthday parties. From age twelve onward, Tabitha rented the rink, knowing that ice skating was out. Bianca fell on the ice once, breaking her left arm and right leg. Tabitha doted on her for the twelve weeks she was in two different casts. Bianca healed fast for an eight-year-old girl, but Tabitha refused to let her on the ice again. On their last trip to Lake Tahoe, Tabitha insisted she stay inside, where it was safe. Bianca’s extended family, her Aunt Jeanie and Uncle Norman, three cousins, Tracy, Lacey, Lance, and her Uncle Robert, went skiing with her mom, leaving her alone in the cabin at age nine.

“Paint. Sketch. Draw. Whatever you like,” Tabitha said, her bracelets clacking together while she put on her ski bibs. “It’s safer in here than out there.” Tabitha zipped up her bibs. “Besides, you are not all that good on skis, which boggles the mind, considering how long you took dance classes.”

“Mother.” Bianca’s tone mimicked Tabitha’s. “You haven’t let me on skis since I was five. I fell down twice, and it was you who stopped bringing me. How is any of that my fault?”

Tabitha looked at herself in the full-length mirror, smoothing her outfit and patting her rear end. Liking what she saw, she smiled, grabbing a lipstick from her purse. Smacking her lips together, Tabitha grabbed a tissue from a box on the dressing table, pressing her lips together, blotting some of the sticky red makeup from her lips.  

“No one said it was your fault, Bianca. But I will not take any more chances with your life.” She pulled out her sunglasses. The white plastic matched her stark white bibs, stocking cap with a pristine white ball of yarn on top, and white ski gloves. Outside the entrance to the vestibule sat her white skis and boots. Not more than ten feet from the massive ski lodge was a private lift, taking whoever dared to ski Tahoe to pristine fine white powder. Some of the best skiing on the mountain started at the top, right from their lodge.

Twin Pines Lodge had been part of Bianca’s family for generations, dating back almost to the Civil War. The family could trace their lineage back to England. Kensington was where many families who were connected to the royal family resided. Tabitha’s great, great, great grandfather lived there as a young lad, but Bianca wouldn’t learn that until she was in college. All she knew was that it belonged to the family. And that was enough, at least according to Tabitha.

Instead of painting, drawing, or sculpting, Bianca practiced different rolling skating moves in her socks, sliding on the marble floor from room to room. She would practice spinning, twirling, lowering herself to the floor as low as possible, ready to limbo better than any other girl at Golden Skate. Bianca practiced for hours, wearing herself out before Tabitha came home late that night. The following day, Bianca told Tabitha she wanted to roller skate.

“You will never lace up those rented skates,” Tabitha told Bianca. “That is absolutely disgusting! How could someone put their feet into the same boots someone sweated in? I will buy your skates, and Francios will have them cleaned, inside and out, before you bring them back into the house after you have been out with your little friends. Is that clear?”  

“Yes, mother,” Bianca replied. Anything less than a yes or no was unacceptable.

“Good. I am so glad you have found something you are good at, dearest, but roller skating? Is that going to be a career? I mean, I could see you having a lucrative career as a dancer. But do you really think there is any money in roller skating? It’s not like ice skating.”

“Mother. The only difference between roller and ice skating is the skates and the rink. Otherwise, it’s the exact same thing.”

Tabitha rolled her eyes. “Do not turn this into some dramatic thing, sweetheart. It is NOT the same. End of discussion.” Bianca knew better than to test her mother. She let it go.

Bianca watched Tabitha tear through the clothing bags, looking for the right outfit. If there was one thing her mother was, it was prepared for any occasion. It may have been the reason for the Mercedes, but Bianca thought that was just to show off. Her mother was pretty good at that.

“Hold this,” Tabitha said through her clenched teeth. “I cannot believe you puked on me, standing in line at this roller skating rink. Ugh. I cannot even.” She found the outfit, holding it up to Bianca. “Yes. You can change into this.”

Bianca was still crying.

“What are you waiting for? An invitation?” Tabitha tapped the toe of her heels on the pavement. Bianca’s white Esprit sweatshirt was splattered with the red cranberry juice she drank before they left the house in Danville. Somehow, it covered her sweatshirt, but, and this was the worst part, she splashed a little of it, like a few drops, onto Tabitha’s red leather heels. “I do not have all night, child.” Tabitha waited for her to strip off the sweatshirt, leaving her in a white bra. Bianca was thankful she wasn’t wet.

That was the best part of her night.