Life on the Edge (43 page)

“Coaches can visit anytime, so Sergei’s hung out a few times, but obviously we haven’t been alone.”

“
Em
, have you talked about wedding dates yet?” my cousin Bella asked. She’d gotten engaged on Christmas Eve, and wedding plans had become her main topic of conversation.

“We might beat you and Blake to the altar. We’re thinking about late July.”

“I don’t know what the rush is,” Mom said. “You’re so young.”

“I’m twenty-one. We don’t want to wait until fall or winter because Sergei will be so busy with his students.” With my snow boot, I toed a pile of ice next to the sidewalk. “If he’s still coaching, that is.”

“All this uncertainty is another reason you should wait,” Mom said. “If Sergei’s suspended, what’s he going to do for a job?”

Her question poked my most sensitive nerve. “He’ll find something,” I snapped.

“I’m not trying to upset you, sweetie. I just want to make sure you’re thinking about your future.”

“Honestly, I shouldn’t be thinking past tomorrow. Tomorrow will determine a big part of my future.”

“You’re
gonna
kick butt,
Em
,” Bri said. “Those boring Russians don’t stand a chance.”

“How about we talk about something besides skating and weddings?” Aunt Debbie suggested. “Let’s keep it light.”

I gave her a one-arm hug, and a few wisps of her soft brown hair blew across my nose. “Thanks, Aunt Deb.”

She and Mom were best friends, but they couldn’t be less alike. The only time my aunt had raised her voice to me was when Bella and I were kids and we stole candy bars from the corner store.

The men came out of the coffee shop with our drinks, and I wrapped my gloved hands around the tall cup Dad handed me. “I’ll show you guys my apartment next.”

I walked ahead of the group. Trey and Uncle Joe were telling a story about meeting a couple of NHL players in line for coffee, but my attention wandered to Mom’s concerns.

Married life would be infinitely easier if I wouldn't have to train for the next Olympics. Sergei and I had made our dating relationship work amid the stress of competitive skating, but could we do it as a married couple? Being with each other every day and every night? And this was assuming Sergei would be coaching. There was a good chance he might not be part of the skating world anymore. What if he began to resent me as the reason for his suspension?

****

No matter how hard I tried to shut out the uncertainties of my future, my brain wouldn't cooperate. All night I wrestled with my blankets, fighting a losing battle with sleeplessness. In the morning, at our final practice before the event, I had to muscle through every jump. I was tighter than the knots I tied on my skate laces.

Claire and I spent the afternoon playing ping pong in our building's activity room. Focusing on the constant bouncing of the little ball gave me some relief from my unwanted thoughts. As soon as I started to apply my makeup for the competition, though, anxiety gripped me. I spilled half of my creamy foundation in the bathroom sink and smudged my eyeliner twice.

My insides were caught in a tornado when I met Chris downstairs. I couldn't sit still in the van to the arena, adjusting and readjusting my gloves, my earrings, and my necklace. Chris twitched with each of my movements but didn't say anything.

Backstage at the arena, television cameras stayed glued to us. They filmed us passing through security, doing our stretching exercises, and walking through our program on the floor. I thought doing my normal pre-competition routine would settle my edginess, but the hovering cameras were a constant reminder this wasn’t a normal competition.

Sergei pulled us aside before we went to the locker rooms to don our costumes. “I found a little room down the hall where we can wait after the warm-up. It’ll give us some privacy.”

That was welcome news. My nervous breakdown appeared imminent, and I didn’t want it broadcasted live to millions of viewers around the world.

I dressed and stood in front of the long mirror. The soft pink costume had seen nothing but victory all season, but the biggest life-changing victory remained. I tugged on the stretchy fabric and the lone shoulder strap.
This dress could be on the front page of every newspaper in America in the morning.
My legs began to tremble, triggering full-on knee wobbling.

Chris and Sergei awaited me in the corridor. They were smiling and looking unexplainably business-as-usual. I flexed my knees and pulled on the hem of my dress, the pink beads scratching my sweaty palms. As I paced around Sergei, he relayed the elements we should practice in the six minute warm-up. His tone had a relaxed quality, but for once, his calmness didn’t reach me.

We made our way toward the ice with the three other pairs in the final group–the Russians, the Canadians, and the Germans. Crowded behind the gate, bouncing in place to stay warm, we looked like caged bulls ready to charge forward.

The ice monitor swung open the gate, and the crowd exploded. After shedding our skate guards, Chris and I did long back crossovers around the ice. Chris seemed to be pulling me across the surface; I had no power in my legs.

Once we finished our initial warm-up, Chris launched me into the triple twist and set me down with his reliable ease. Next, we set up for the side-by-side triple
Lutzes
. Trying to compensate for my shaky legs, I slammed my
toepick
into the ice for better lift. I only succeeded in throwing off my air position, and I stumbled through the landing.

Chris reached for my hand. “We can do it again.”

We repeated the jump, and again I faltered.

“Let’s do the throws,” I said.

Chris’s eyes crinkled with concern. We circled around the rink, and on both the triple Lutz and triple loop throw jumps, I put my palm on the ice to balance myself. Chris now appeared downright worried as he glanced at me and up at the clock. With a minute left, we performed one lift and cooled down with easy strokes around the rink.

Sergei walked behind us as Chris and I marched to our “waiting room.” Chris stopped him before he could enter. “Can you give us a minute?”

He closed the door and massaged my neck. “When we get out there, it’s just you and me. Block everything else out. You and me, skating our program. Nothing else matters.”

“My legs won’t stop shaking,” I said, full of panic.

“They know what to do if you let them.”

He hugged me, and I tilted my head back so I wouldn’t smear makeup on his mauve-colored shirt.

“I’ve never been this scared in my entire life.” Tears rattled my voice.

He tightened his hold on me. “I’ll be right there with you every step of the way. Focus on me, okay?”

I closed my eyes, visualizing us skating in a bubble–no roaring crowd, no future consequences. Just the two of us, the ice, and Grieg’s Piano Concerto.

Chris opened the door, and Sergei spread his arm across my shoulders and patted Chris’s back. I clung to him, hoping to absorb his composure.

“There’s one thing I want you to do tonight.” Sergei said. “Skate with freedom. Do you remember how you skated at the Grand Prix Final? You owned the ice. When you look back on this night, I don’t want you to have any regrets. Give everything you have to each other.”

He kissed the top of my head and gave Chris a half-hug, half-handshake. I kept one arm around Sergei’s waist until we were told to report to the ice. His warmth had slowly soothed my trembling.

We approached the rink as Madeline and Damien finished their program. The moment the Canadians stepped behind the boards, I shot off like a rocket, needing a feel for the ice. I rounded the rink a few times, my legs strengthening with each stroke. Chris skated up to me, and I held out my hand.

He grasped it and angled his head down so I could hear him above the din. “Just you and me.”

I nodded crisply, and we returned to Sergei at the boards for one last sip of water. He stood tall and sure in his tailored black suit.

“This is your night.” He spoke with both assurance and affection. “Own the ice.”

I squeezed my eyes shut. The raucous crowd faded into the background, and the image of the insulated bubble resurfaced. Eyes open, I followed Chris to our starting spot. My focus remained on his face and the strong bond between our clasped hands.

The music began, and I pushed off on one foot, gliding backward, smooth and controlled. We flew through the triple twist, but my chest tightened as we approached the
Lutzes
. Sergei’s voice resonated in my head.
Own the ice.

I put total belief in my muscle memory, and three revolutions later, my right blade hit the ice on a flowing edge. My confidence jumped ten notches, and my muscles slightly unwound.

Chris nodded as we transitioned through footwork to the setup for the throw triple Lutz. With his hands securely on my hips, he vaulted me across the ice, and again my right foot executed a perfect landing. The throw triple loop produced the same result. I squashed a burst of excitement, stopping myself from celebrating too early. Half of the program lay ahead.

Through the intricate choreography, we maintained constant speed and flow, and we had just as much momentum exiting the elements as we did entering them. Every step connected to the music, emphasizing both the high and low notes. With each passing second, my skin tingled more and more with elation.

Going into our final jumping pass, the side-by-side triple toe-double toe combination, I ordered myself,
Attack, attack, attack!
We went up in the air on the triple jumps and came down on one foot in unison. Immediately, we knocked out the easy double toes. Chris saw my wide smile and reminded me, “Steady on the lift.”

He picked me up, and I let myself enjoy the feeling of being on top of the world. The breeze cooled my face as I soared with the music, just as I’d imagined when we’d chosen the concerto. On the descent, I caught a glimpse of Sergei’s face, and he had tears in his eyes.

My heart ballooned, and my own eyes misted. As Chris pulled me into our pair spin, I battled my emotions, careful not to botch our last element in the program. We spun face to face, grinning at each other, tears staining my cheeks. Because of the rowdy applause, I couldn’t hear our music anymore. We twirled into our ending pose, not knowing if we were on the final beat, but I didn’t care. The moment was ours–the moment I dreamed of every day I laced up my skates. The moment we completed a perfect skate at the Olympic Games.

Chris scooped me up and let out a loud whoop. I couldn’t speak or make any sounds as I wept with joy and relief.

He put me down and turned me to face the crowd. “Never forget this.”

Slowly, we rotated in a circle, taking in the entire arena. Goose bumps sprung over my arms. Everyone was standing, and their cheers rang in my ears. I squinted through my tears at the upper deck, where my family had tickets, but it was too far away for me to find them.

When we reached the boards, Sergei threw his arms around me before I could step off the ice. He held me for a long minute as my shoulders shook with sobs.

“I’m so proud of you,” he said, his voice wrought with emotion.

I took deep breaths to control my crying while Sergei and Chris shared a warm, back-slapping hug. We’d taken so long to reach the Kiss & Cry the scores were ready as soon as we sat down.

The crowd erupted when two 6.0’s dotted our line of technical marks. Just as quickly, the audience jeered when the presentation scores included all 5.9’s but no perfect marks. We’d beaten Madeline and Damien, but Oksana and Denis had room to pass us. Our program was technically more difficult, but the judges could subjectively give the Russians the edge on presentation.

The anxiety I’d overcome during our program strapped itself around my heart. With one last wave to the crowd, we retreated to our secluded room for the longest wait of our lives.

Sergei hugged each of us again. “No matter what happens, you did everything you could possibly do, and you should be proud of that.”

“I have no idea how I did it.” I shook my head.

“You’re stronger than you know.” Chris squeezed me against his side.

I blinked back a couple of tears. “I want you to know how lucky I feel having you as my partner. Thank you so much for standing by me, even when things got rough.”