The Ice Rink
 
The streets froze over after the last snowstorm and the kids decided to get out their skates and make use of the nearby ice. It was closer than the small lake at Clifton Park and didn’t require a lift from some parent and the cost of admission to the rink at the park. The rink with smooth ice and a zamboni machine to level it out between skating sessions.
           “I’ll be right back,” Trina called over her shoulder as she headed towards home. Home was an apartment above the small liquor store her parents owned.
           “I don’t know why you don’t get into some other business,” her grandmother told her parents every chance she had. “It’s so dangerous. And, not the easiest business to establish.” She should know. She’d operated a confectionary in a declining area for years before finally packing it up and moving to a house in the neighborhood where the liquor store was located.
           “It’s okay, mom,” Trina’s mother assured her grandmother.
           “I didn’t have a choice,” grandma would say, “I was a widow and in those days, there weren’t a lot of opportunities for women with small children.”
           “I know, I know,” Trina’s mother would nod and Trina could tell her mother was tuning out her grandmother. Trina tried to visualize “those days” without ever getting a clear picture even when her grandma flipped through pages of old photo albums pointing out people Trina should know, but could never remember.
           “It isn’t as if you and Mark don’t have an education. Why did you spend all that time in college to run a liquor store?” Trina’s mother usually interpreted that as a rhetorical question and would shrug her shoulders and then offer grandma a couple bottles of wine.
           They owned a doughnut shop before the liquor store. The doughnut shop had been a disaster. One grandma only brought up on special occasions, like holidays when the shop downstairs was closed. “What happened with the doughnut shop?” was the way the discussion began and Trina’s father would excuse himself from the table.
           “It was an idea ahead of its time,” Trina’s mother would say. Trina’s family seemed to have a lot of ideas ahead of their time.
           Then they’d hear someone pounding on the front door of the store trying to get in. Once, someone broke out the front window trying to buy a bottle of scotch. “I’m telling you,” grandma would say, “one of these days.”
 
Trina’s parents never told grandma about the times they were robbed and she was instructed to keep mum on the subject as well.
           “Trina,” her mother began, “I don’t want you to lie to your grandmother, but it would be best if you didn’t mention this to her.” Trina always promised she wouldn’t. Then, she began to wonder what would happen if her parents were injured or killed in a hold-up. That would be impossible to keep from her grandmother.
           “You worry too much,” was her brother’s response. He didn’t seem to worry about anything.
           “What are you doing?” Trina’s mother asked. She was upstairs washing the supper dishes when Trina raced through the apartment, heading for her room.
           “Getting my skates,” she called over her shoulder.

           On her way out, her mother stood by the door holding a dish towel in her crossed arms. “Isn’t it a little late to go skating.”
           “We’re not going to the park.” Trina stood in her stocking feet, clutching her skates. She planned on slipping into them at the bottom of the steps and walking on her toes to the curb.
           “You’re not?” Her mother looked her up and down, her eyes stopping at Trina’s stocking clad feet.
           “No,” Trina explained, “we’re skating on the street. It’s a sheet of ice.”
           “Is that good for the blades?” she nodded in the direction of the skates Trina clutched.
           “It’ll be okay. I can always get them sharpened at the rink the next time I go.” Trina brushed past her mother before she could voice any more objections.
           “Be careful,” her mother called down the stairs. “If it’s slippery, cars won’t be able to stop.”
           “Okay.” Then, she was outside in the cold night air, knowing her mother would be keeping an eye on her from the store window. Weeknights, Trina’s mother sat with her father behind the counter after dinner till closing at ten.
 
           “What took you so long?” Tracy called. Everyone else was already back outside trying to glide over the bumpy surface the street had become.
           Trina laughed and skated toward her friends, grabbing the bumper of one car, hitting a high spot. They hadn’t been going back and forth for too long when a car breezed past them.
           “Hey, watch out,” Mickey called as the car nearly missed him.
           “He didn’t have his headlights on,” Trina skated over to him as they watched the car bump down the street and then turn the corner. Someone jumped from the passenger side and darted up the street running past them and into the liquor store while the car turned into the alley, engine idling.
           The group went back to skating. “It’s getting cold,” someone said and a couple kids slid towards home when their names were called from front porches. Trina, Mickey, Tracy and Kevin were the holdouts, not ready to go in yet, moving closer towards the light of the liquor store.
           “Did you hear that?” Mickey shouted at the sound of a popping noise from inside the shop and Trina’s mother shouting, “Oh my God.”
           The door flew open and the tall man, stumbled through it, carrying a sack and a gun. The group was frozen in fear.