The clouds outside the window finally part, and I catch my first glimpse of the land below. It’s a snow-covered wonderland, stretching endlessly with white fields broken up by rivers and lakes. I’ve got to admit, it’s mesmerizing. From this bird’s-eye view, everything looks like a toy set, almost… unreal. I pull out my phone and snap a few pictures to send to my best friend later. But as my eyes adjust to the scenery, the awe fades. Reality sinks in, and I realize I’m stuck in this frozen kingdom for a whole month. I was perfectly fine with Ukrainian winters, where you only need gloves and warm boots for a couple of weeks out of the season. I don’t think I’m going to fall in love with Canada.
The plane starts its descent, and my anxiety level does the exact opposite—it climbs. I didn’t come here for a vacation or some grand adventure. I’m here to spend time with my dad. The man who walked out on me and Mom ten years ago to chase a career in sports. I stopped asking myself “why” a long time ago, but today, staring at this unfamiliar world below, the question creeps back into my head, buzzing like an annoying fly I can’t swat away.
Well… we’ll see how this reunion plays out. If we can’t get along, at least I’ll get some practice with my English. I’m pretty sure a month in Canada will do more for me than the linguistics degree I earned and promptly buried among the junk on my bookshelf.
The flight attendant’s voice cuts through my thoughts:
— Ladies and gentlemen, we’re beginning our descent into Vancouver International Airport. The temperature outside is minus 17 degrees.
Now that’s a real winter. I set aside the thin blanket that’s been keeping me warm during the flight and buckle my seatbelt. With my eyes squeezed shut, I brace myself through the turbulence of landing. I’m a little scared, but I’m not sure it’s because of the plane. There’s a weird, heavy feeling in my chest—a mix of anticipation and tension. I’m a grown woman, but I’m still afraid of disappointing my dad. I want to prove to him that even without his support, I’ve grown into a strong, successful person. Okay, maybe scratch “successful” for now. But definitely strong.
I’m completely lost in the airport. To avoid looking like a clueless tourist, I stick with the crowd of other passengers. Just act confident, and I’ll figure it out. At passport control, it’s the same routine as back in Ukraine: I hand over my documents and silently pray security doesn’t pull me aside. No, I’m not smuggling anything illegal, and I’m not on any wanted list. This is just my first big trip abroad, and I keep feeling like something’s going to go wrong any second.
— Purpose of your visit to Canada? — the officer asks. I’m thrilled that I understood every word he said.
— I’m here to visit my dad.
— Got it, — he says, closing my passport. — Enjoy your stay.
Relief washes over me. They didn’t arrest me, so that’s a win.
I follow the other passengers to baggage claim. My suitcase stands out from a mile away—it’s the only one wrapped in clear plastic film. That was Mom’s doing. She insisted that if I didn’t wrap it, someone would steal my stuff. I don’t think anyone’s dying to get their hands on my sweaters and socks, but I didn’t argue. Whatever.
Now, the real challenge: finding Dad. I head toward the exit. It’s noticeably colder here. The sharp scent of frosty air hits my nose, mixed with… baked goods? This country smells like a Christmas morning. All that’s missing is Santa and his reindeer parked at the public transit stop. But what Santa would be out here in February? He’s probably on a well-deserved vacation.
I dig a scarf out of my backpack and wrap it around my face until only my eyes are visible. Good lord, it’s freezing. Take me back to Kherson. I’ve seen Canada, I’ve spoken English with a native speaker—what else do I need to do? Oh, right… meet up with Dad.
He’s standing near the entrance, leaning against a pillar, nervously scanning the crowd of people streaming out of the terminal. I recognize him instantly: tall, lanky, and of course, wearing a dark jacket with his team’s logo. His face looks a little older than in the photos we exchange a couple of times a year. But the way he keeps his hands stuffed in his pockets… that’s a habit I remember from childhood.
— Alice! — he calls out, waving a hand.
— Hey, — I reply. I don’t even try to adjust my expression to look friendlier. My face is hidden under the scarf anyway. Hey, that’s convenient!
His smile looks uncertain too. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s already regretting inviting me here. Probably got caught up in a wave of nostalgia and now he’s thinking, “Why did I even bother with Alice? We were fine keeping our distance.” He raises his arms like he’s about to hug me, but I bend down to grab my suitcase, pretending not to notice.
— How was the trip? — he asks as we head toward his car.
— Fine.
That’s the end of the conversation. We walk to the parking lot in silence. We get into his car in silence.
— Is it a long drive? — I break the quiet first.
— About half an hour, — he says, starting the engine and waiting for the car to warm up. — You’ll like Frostgate.
He says it like he knows what I’m into. What if I prefer big cities over small-town nowhere? I’m a city girl through and through. I doubt some Canadian village is going to impress me.
Finally, I start to warm up. I loosen my scarf and take off my hat. Dad glances over at me.
— You’ve grown up so much… — he says, shaking his head. — I’m glad we’ve got this chance to spend time together.
— I didn’t want to come here, — I admit. — Mom insisted. She’s got this crazy dream of both my parents being at my wedding. So she wants us to get closer.
— Wedding? — Dad coughs, nearly choking on his gum. — You’re getting married?
— No. Like I said, it’s Mom’s dream, not mine. I don’t even have a boyfriend, if you’re curious.
— Of course I’m curious.
— I broke up with my last one six months ago.
— You didn’t tell me.
— There’s a lot I haven’t told you, — mostly because we barely talk.
I turn away and stare out the window at the passing scenery. Okay, I take it back. The Canadian middle-of-nowhere is actually kind of impressive. Frostgate looks like a picture you’d find on a puzzle box: a small town with neat little houses, streetlights draped in garlands, and huge snowdrifts lining the sidewalks. Dad tries to keep the conversation going, but his words get lost in the whirlwind of my thoughts.
— Everything here revolves around the arena, — he says, pointing to a modern building with tall glass windows. — Hockey is the heart of this town.
I nod.
— I’m getting the team ready for a big competition right now. The guys are in great shape, but you have no idea how much hard work it takes every single day. Sometimes I feel like I sleep on the ice, — he says with a crooked smile.
— It must feel good when all that effort pays off, — I say, though I’m not really invested. Honestly, talking about hockey kind of gets under my skin. It’s been so long since we’ve seen each other, and this is what he wants to talk about? Doesn’t he care about anything else?
— You have no idea! I’ve dreamed of this my whole life. Being able to coach and watch these guys unlock their potential…
He speaks with so much passion that for a moment, I wonder: does he even have time for anything besides freaking hockey? And do I stand even a tiny chance of getting his attention if I can’t handle a stick and puck?