Edge of the Past (23 page)

At the end of the forty-minute session, Sergei handed our credentials to Chris and me. “I’m going to try to catch Elena on the concourse. I saw her and Liza headed up there.”

He hurried backstage, and Chris put his arm around me, guiding me toward the locker rooms. Away from the media, skater, and coach traffic, he cornered me against the wall and rested his hands on my shoulders.

“You’re all over the place, Em.”

“I’ll pull it together for the short tomorrow. I promise.”

“Sergei’s the one who helps you focus, and his head’s not exactly in the game either.”

“Well, I learned I don’t necessarily need his help to be successful, so…”

Chris studied me, and I fidgeted under his unwavering stare. The situation felt very familiar, and I flashed back to Worlds two years prior when Chris had discovered I was secretly dating Sergei. He’d spent the whole event giving me weird looks like he was trying to figure me out. He was giving me one of those looks now.

“I’m ready to compete,” I said, but I didn’t feel the fire inside. Where was the hunger, the desire to be the best? I had to find it before the competition. At the moment I was full of only sadness and guilt, and I had no clue how to get rid of those feelings.

****

Sergei wasn’t able to catch up to Elena, and when the next evening came, he still hadn’t talked to her. There was something more pressing that required attention, however – the short program. I paced around Sergei backstage, alternately fiddling with my curly up-do and the short hem of my shiny black dress. I’d been shaky on my jumps again at practice that morning. My legs just wouldn’t cooperate, and my confidence had taken another hit.

I flexed my knees and jiggled all my limbs, but I couldn’t shake the tightness. I’d been wound into one huge knot that I wasn’t able to loosen.

“Em.” Sergei grasped both of my hands. “Remember – let your body take over, and it’ll stop your mind from getting in the way.”

That was one of Sergei’s famous lines which all his students could recite. The problem was my body knew what to do but couldn’t execute it. I didn’t have the energy. Sergei looked tired, too. Still incredibly handsome in his gray suit, but tired. His bright eyes became dimmer every day he was away from Liza.

The time to skate neared, so Chris and I inched toward the tunnel with Sergei at our side. Chris set his arm across my shoulders and said in my ear, “We’re gonna fight through this. Give it all you have.”

I nodded and said a few prayers while we waited our turn to skate. Not prayers for victory but prayers for strength.

When we received the call to the ice, the building erupted with cheers, and I tried to channel the crowd’s energy into my bones. The audience waved American flags of all sizes and banners with our names in red, white, and blue. Somewhere among the spectators sat Elena and Liza.

Don’t think about them. Focus, focus, focus!

The cheers diminished to complete silence as Chris and I locked into our starting pose. I zoned in on Chris’s face and said one last prayer.

We began the program and knocked out the triple twist before I had a chance to think too much. But I had time to worry about the looming side-by-side triple Lutzes and whether my muscle memory would fail me.

I picked hard into the ice, giving myself extra spring but throwing off my timing. Panic and adrenaline battled each other inside me as I came down with a backward lean. My body was tilted so much I couldn’t stay upright. It all happened in a matter of seconds, but it felt like slow motion as I crashed to the ice.

Now cold and wet, I scrambled to my feet and rushed back in step with Chris. He gave my hand a firm squeeze, his way of telling me to shake off the mistake.

We moved through the elements and the choreography I loved so much, but I wasn’t enjoying it. I didn’t feel the connection to the music as I had every other time I’d performed the program. A mountain of suffocating negative emotions had buried my passion.

Chris pressed me up into the star lift, and his injured arm trembled as his hand gripped my hip. I summoned all the strength I could find to hold myself up, using his shoulder as support. We couldn’t afford another error in the program. When we completed the element with a clean exit, Chris exhaled an audible breath and gave me a little nod.

At the end of the performance, the crowd gave us a roaring ovation despite my mistake. Chris hugged me and said, “We got through it.”

We met Sergei at the boards, and he embraced both of us before we all sat in the kiss and cry. Sergei slipped his hand around my waist and kissed the top of my head, and tears pricked my eyes. He could’ve directed his anger at Elena toward me since I was the cause of her decision, but he hadn’t. He was as loving as always.

The scores appeared on the monitor, and the audience responded with muted applause. With more than ten teams left to skate, we were in third place. We had to hope none of those couples bumped us down in the standings. Sergei walked between Chris and me and gave us a reminder as we went backstage.

“Top three means you still control your own destiny.”

Chris and I knew all the particulars – as long as we won the free skate, we’d win gold. I just didn’t know if I had a golden performance in me. I needed to dig deeper than I ever had.

After I changed out of my costume and finished my press obligations, I took the elevator up to the concourse to find my parents. Fans easily spotted me with my Team USA jacket and rolling bag, so I was stopped several times for autographs and photos. Everyone said such nice things, and I spent a minute chatting with each person. I’d given enough quotes to the media over the years to know how to sound poised even when I was torn apart inside.

I continued toward the section where my parents had said to meet them but stopped short when I saw a familiar purple backpack in the concessions line.

Should I try to talk to Elena?
She wouldn’t make a scene in public, so maybe she’d listen to me. Or I might make things worse if I confronted her before Sergei did.

While I stared at the backs of Elena’s and Liza’s heads, Liza turned and discovered me. She gazed at me a few moments and then quickly ducked her chin.

She really does hate me.

I bit the inside of my lip to stave off more tears. I definitely couldn’t talk to Elena now. Who knew the emotional blabber I’d start spewing. I had to let Sergei take care of it, and I had to have faith Elena would change her mind.

Chapter Twenty-Two

“Sweetie, you’ve barely touched your dinner.” Mom eyed me with concern across the table. “You need to eat.”

I nudged my grilled chicken with my fork. With the free skate in twenty-four hours, I should be fueling my body for the event, but my appetite had been missing since the train took off with Liza.

“My stomach will feel a lot better if Sergei finally talks to Elena tonight and gets everything straightened out.”

“I can’t believe she won’t answer his calls,” Mom said. “It’s ridiculous he has to camp out in her hotel lobby to track her down.”

Dad sipped his wine and shook his head. “Elena has to realize she’s hurting Liza by doing this. The child’s already lost two parents and now she’s losing another.”

I picked up my cell phone from the table and looked at the screen even though there had been no ring or message notice. Sergei had said he’d call as soon he had news.

“Maybe I should speak to Elena. Mother to mother,” Mom said.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I said. ”If she gets snippy with you, then you’re going to get snippy with her, and it’ll just blow up into a bigger mess.”

“But I understand the feeling of wanting to protect your daughter. Not a day goes by that I don’t worry about you.”

“I really think Sergei’s the only one who could get through to her.” Admitting that fact made my meal look even less appealing. I set my fork down and pushed away my plate. “I’m gonna go up to my room and watch a movie or something. I need a distraction.”

“Why don’t you take your dinner to go?” Dad suggested.

I rubbed my stomach as I rose from the table. “I can’t eat, Dad.”

He stood along with me and gave me a warm hug. “We just want you to keep your strength up.”

“I’ll be okay,” I said.

Over Dad’s shoulder, Mom’s brow wrinkled deeper. I picked up my purse and went around the table to kiss her cheek. “I’ll see you at practice tomorrow.”

“I hope you get good news from Sergei,” she said.

I snaked through the busy hotel restaurant, waving at skater acquaintances from around the world. Normally, I lived for competitions like this – the sport’s biggest names all gathered in one spot, the large crowds, the pomp and circumstance. I’d get so fired up just from the atmosphere. But I hadn’t felt any of that excitement since being in D.C. Everything around me existed in a dulled haze.

Inside my room, I flipped on the TV and scrolled through the movie listing. The U.S. Skating Federation gave its Olympic medalists the perk of single rooms at competitions, so I had the space all to myself. I selected the movie
Center Stage
, which I owned on DVD and had watched at least fifty times, but it was light and fun, and I was in the mood for something familiar.

Even with the distraction of the movie, I peeked at my cell phone every ten minutes. It was getting late, and Elena and Liza should’ve returned to their hotel from the day’s events at the MCI Center. An extended conversation between Sergei and Elena could be a good sign… if that’s what was taking so long.

A weak knock took my eyes off the phone. I got up from the bed and hustled to open the door. Sergei stood with his hand resting against the frame and his head down. The tiny bit of dinner I’d eaten turned in my stomach. I reached for Sergei’s free hand, and he lifted his head to look at me. The dim light remaining in his eyes had completely faded.

I led Sergei inside and clutched his hand harder as we sat on the end of the bed. “She didn’t change her mind,” I guessed quietly.

“No.” He stared at the TV with a blank expression. “After they visit New York, they’re going to Russia and never coming back.”

Another wave of guilt churned a bigger hole in my gut. I circled my arms around Sergei’s shoulders. “I’m so sorry.”

“She said I’d have to fight her to get visitation. In Russian court, where I’m sure her father had connections she can use to her advantage.”

I pressed my face to his sweater. I couldn’t look at him. All this agony was my fault.

“I just can’t believe it,” Sergei said, wavering between anger and hurt. “I had the miracle of finding Liza, which I never dreamed could happen, and now I might never see her again. We were really starting to connect. I think she was starting to understand how much I love her and…“

His voice broke and so did my heart. I held him tighter, and he muffled his cries against my hair. The anguish in his tears further splintered my soul, and my attempts to say, “I’m sorry” came out fractured and unintelligible. I started to pull back so I could speak more clearly, but Sergei locked his arms around me as he continued to shake with emotion. Feeling his despair, I fought my own tears.
He shouldn’t have to go through this.

We stayed in that spot, holding each other and not saying a word until Sergei slowly pulled away and rubbed his hand over his face.

“I should let you get to sleep,” he said hoarsely. “I’m not doing a good job of preparing you for tomorrow.”

“Don’t worry about me. You’re dealing with so much…“

“I can’t let you and Chris down. I feel so helpless as far as Liza is concerned, but I can actually help you and Chris get through tomorrow.” Sergei kissed my forehead and swallowed me in an embrace. “I know it’s easier to say than to do, but promise me you’ll get some rest.”

Why is he being so good to me?
He must still be in shock. Soon
he won’t be able to look at me without thinking
how I ruined
his chance to be a father to Liza.

Sergei left, and I got ready for bed, but sleep evaded me again. My thoughts weren’t dominated by my usual pre-competition worries, though. Only thoughts of Liza and trains and Elena and regrets kept me staring at the dark ceiling. I’d been looking for signs that a life with Sergei was still my future, my destiny, but so many things had happened to make me believe otherwise.

I pulled the blanket up to my chin and clamped my eyes shut. If I could just sleep, I wouldn’t have to face those thoughts. I wouldn’t have to face the growing reality that Sergei and I weren’t meant to be.

****

Skating last at a competition was both a blessing and a nerve-wracking pain, and I felt more of the latter as Chris and I awaited our turn in the free skate. As the last pair, we wouldn’t have to worry about the judges “saving room” in the scores for other teams, but waiting all night to perform gave me more time to think. On a normal occasion that was bad news; on this night, with so many things besides skating on my mind, it was a surefire disaster.

Sergei hovered nearby backstage, close enough to give an encouraging smile and snippets of instruction but far enough not to make me feel smothered. Our eyes connected, and he gave me one of those comforting smiles, but all I could think about was him crying over Liza. I’d never heard him break down like that, and it was one of the most gut-wrenching sounds I could imagine.

I turned away from Sergei to watch Chris miming our choreography. He stopped and held up one hand for a high five. I complied, and he clasped our fingers together.

“We’re strong enough to do this,” he said.

I’d been telling myself that all day, but I was running on just caffeine from three cups of coffee, the only thing I could stomach. My strength would have to come from determination, and I didn’t know if I had enough to carry me through. The haze surrounding me had grown thicker and darker. I couldn’t see past it, and I was scared how numb I felt going into the most important performance of the season.

Chris resumed acting out our program, and every so often he touched his shoulder, which wasn’t part of the choreography. I wondered if his arm hurt more than he’d told us. He was broken physically, and I was broken mentally. We were quite the pair.