Ink and Ice

by Erin McRae

  Zack chuckled. “My divorce got finalized a couple of months ago. I didn’t know divorc-iversaries were a thing.”

  “Oh yeah? I’m sorry, man. That shit sucks.”

  “It does indeed. But life is better for it. I’m just trying to get out and do things.”

  “That’s the spirit!” Matt gave Zack a manly—and nearly absurd—clap on the back as he dumped his skates into his bag. “Plus, it gets easier with time,” he said, with an air of experience that would have been ridiculous if he hadn’t seemed so earnest about it.

  Zack, to his surprise, warmed to it. He hadn’t had anyone to talk to about his ex since he’d left Miami, and in Miami it had been too complicated to talk to any of their shared friends about.

  “That’s what I hear,” Zack said.

  “Hey, are you doing anything after this?” Matt asked, shouldering his bag.

  “Not really, no,” Zack admitted. Matt was either coming on to him, or he had a new friend. The fact that he wasn’t sure said less about Matt than it did about Zack and how woefully out of practice he was with humans in non-extreme circumstances.

  “My shift doesn’t start ’til six, want to get a smoothie or something?”

  Zack’s best alternate option was to go home and daydream about the next time he was going to see Aaron. And while that had its appeal, he knew being obsessive wasn’t going to help anyone. “Yeah,” he said. “Why not?”

  THEY GOT SMOOTHIES at a place down the street and then sat in the nearby park to talk. Matt seemed equally happy to talk about hockey, his job as an aide at an assisted living facility, and his ex.

  “She left me,” he said, his tone philosophical. “Which sucked at the time but in retrospect I do not blame her one bit.”

  “Oh yeah?” Zack was equal parts amused and charmed by Matt’s candor.

  “Hell no. I was a crap husband. Never did stuff around the house, unless it was a badly done half-finished home improvement project we had to hire someone to fix, never talked about feelings and shit, you know.”

  “I do know, actually,” Zack said. “Although it was my ex who was that type of crap husband, not me. I was awful in different ways.”

  “Gay?” Matt asked.

  “Yeah,” Zack said. It was always strange being out but having to come out to new people because of how their assumptions worked. He appreciated being asked head on.

  “Cool. Straight,” Matt said pointing at himself. “Anyway. Came home one day to her ring on the table and a letter saying I was going to hear from her lawyer. Which was a hell of a wakeup call, although too late of course. There were a lot of other ones before that I should have heard. I’ve been trying to do better since, you know? Not to try to win her back. I’m not that shitty. But because I don’t want to be that guy anymore. I started going to therapy, I learned how to cook, do my own laundry. It’s been good.”

  Sitting in a park discussing past relationship woes and current plans for self-improvement was not what Zack had expected to get out of his first hockey practice. But, he thought, as he sipped his smoothie and asked Matt what sort of cooking he liked to do, it could have been much worse.

  OVER THE NEXT COUPLE of weeks Zack’s life settled into a comfortable pattern. During the day he would clean, workout, and noodle around with his writing. He still wasn’t sure what he was going to end up writing, but his agent had been enthusiastic about the rough personal essay he’d sent her. For now it was enough to get words on the page about his own life.

  He ran errands for Marie and had coffee with her on her front porch occasionally. Twice a week he had practice with his adult league team, and on Thursdays he met Matt for an extra hour of work on their skating basics.

  He kept his appointments with his therapist and worked with his realtor to get his condo on the market. At some point he was going to need to go back to Miami to deal with the last of his life there, especially closing on the condo once it sold, but there was enough to do in the meantime he didn’t feel too guilty about kicking that particular can down the road.

  And, of course, there was Aaron. While Zack definitely still needed lessons, he didn’t need them from him anymore. Hockey wasn’t Aaron’s thing, and Zack was now learning with the rest of the hockey enthusiasts. This was for the best on multiple fronts. Aaron’s training schedule was getting more crowded and tightly regulated, and he didn’t have that type of spare time.

  But that didn’t mean Aaron didn’t have other time for Zack. When they crossed paths at the rink Aaron would catch his eye and give him the most mischievous, knowing smile. It made Zack wildly happy, both to have Aaron in his life, and to have the shared, related passion of the ice.

  Of course, the passion was not only on the ice. Whenever he had a free evening Aaron would invite himself over to Zack’s place. Which meant Zack needed to stop half-assing things. Because Aaron loved being tied up, and Zack was starting to feel guilty about—and frustrated by—the level and limits of improvisation involved.

  So eventually, he took himself off to the local big box home improvement store to grab some cotton rope in various lengths and thicknesses. He’d have to run them through the wash more than a few times to get them soft enough to comfortably use on Aaron, but other than coming up with a story for Marie about why he was doing so much laundry, that wouldn’t be a problem. And now, someday, Aaron could stop looking wistfully at Zack’s photos, and know what those images felt like and whether he liked it. Just not yet; Aaron was too busy and Zack didn’t want to distract him any more than he already was.

  Right now, Zack’s favorite nights were when he would hang around the rink after hockey practice to watch Aaron work before they went home together. On those nights they were often the only two at the rink, the rest of TCI quiet around them while Aaron’s music played.

  It didn’t take Zack long to become familiar with his programs. And while Aaron’s short was improving steadily, even Zack could tell something wasn’t quite right with his free skate. He’d watched enough old competition videos of enough skaters at this point to know when something was great versus merely competent. While he didn’t know enough about skating yet to be able to tell what was missing, it was clear enough to him that something was. Aaron’s frustration with it was clearly growing, too, especially as the high-performance skating camp that kicked off each season drew closer and closer.

  On one such night, bundled in the hockey box with his laptop perched on his lap so he could ostensibly write while Aaron skated, Zack watched him work through a sequence he didn’t recognize. For once the sound system was silent; the only noises were those of Aaron’s blades slicing through the ice.

  “What’re you working on?” Zack asked the next time Aaron stopped at the boards for water.

  Aaron shrugged. “Just messing around.” His cheeks were flushed and his curls were wildly tousled, a look that made Zack want to suggest going back to his place early, if he thought for a moment Aaron would leave before his work was done for the day.

  “Something new?”

  “Maybe.”

  Which was all Aaron would say about it until that night when they were in bed.

  Zack was tempted to see if he was interested in trying out the newly acquired ropes and leaving him breathless until he answered Zack’s questions about whatever he’d been working on at the rink, but that hardly seemed fair or kind. Besides, Aaron was a delight, kink or no kink, and he was so eager to get Zack horizontal, Zack couldn’t mind letting him take the lead. Vanilla enthusiasm could be its own kind of amazing, he thought as he came with Aaron’s tongue in his mouth and their dicks side by side in his fist.

  “You,” he said after he caught his breath, “are too much fun.”

  “I am not,” Aaron corrected, sitting up and running his hands through his hair. “I am precisely the right amount of fun. Now do you want to know what I was working on at the rink or what?”

  “Obviously.”

  “The long program Katie and Brendan have for me isn
’t working. I mean, it’s fine. It’s a good program, and I can do it, and the judges will like it. But, it’s not me. And you’ve made me realize one of the things it lacks.” Aaron said.

  “What’s that?” Zack couldn’t imagine what that could be.

  “Stillness,” Aaron said.

  The word hit Zack in waves. Because what Aaron meant, he was almost sure, was those moments where Zack made him be quiet and still, eyes closed and dutiful, in service to his pleasure.

  “I don’t know how that’s going to translate to the ice,” he said.

  “Neither do it. But I need music with more space in it for those moments, for the breath between elements, and I just hope Brendan lets me have it.”

  “I can’t imagine how anyone could refuse you anything.” Zack said. He meant every word of it.

  Chapter 15

  A WEEK BEFORE HIGH-Performance Camp

  Twin Cities Ice

  AFTER HIS CONVERSATION with Zack, Aaron knew he didn’t have any time to lose.

  He had a meeting with both Katie and Brendan the next morning to review his training plan for the rest of the month and discuss travel logistics for camp and the upcoming Grand Prix series. They didn’t often coach him on the ice at the same time, so his opportunities to talk to the two of them together were usually limited.

  They met in the cramped little coach’s office at the rink. Katie had evidently come from the farm; she hadn’t yet changed into skating clothes and still had on mud-spattered boots. Aaron fidgeted, nervous, while Brendan gave him his ice times for the upcoming month and Katie queried him about which elements he felt he needed to focus on most.

  “Anything else we need to cover?” Brendan asked as he clicked through a spreadsheet on his computer.

  “Actually, yes. There was one thing,” Aaron spoke up before he could lose his nerve. What if they said no? What if they were upset at his request? He’d already asked for so much from them this year.

  “What’s up?” Brendan asked.

  Aaron took a breath. “I want to skate to a different song for my free skate,” he blurted.

  Katie and Brendan both looked at him. Brendan had on his mild-curiosity face that Aaron knew was his way of saying What the hell?

  Katie said it out loud. “What the hell, Aaron?”

  “You know I’ve been frustrated with the program as it is—and the music. It’s not working.”

  “You have that music,” Katie said, her voice studiously neutral, “Because you didn’t have a strong vision for your program when we started.”

  “I know,” Aaron said. “But I think I do now.”

  “Camp is two weeks away.” Brendan looked pained. Aaron squirmed. Enthusiasm from either of them at this late notice.... He’d known he couldn’t have expected that. And they hadn’t said no. But still. That didn’t make their reluctance fun.

  “Then we better get started sooner rather than later, right? I mean. If you’re okay with that.”

  Katie and Brendan often told their skaters to speak up and ask for whatever it was they felt they needed to succeed; even so, Aaron worried he was overstepping. Katie and Brendan had other skaters to worry about, and this was a change that was going to take up a good deal of time when that was never something any of them had in abundance.

  His coaches exchanged wordless looks, which made Aaron squirm more. The way they seemed to be able to communicate without speaking was unsettling and, in this moment, didn’t bode well.

  “It wouldn’t be a complete re-choreographing,” he said, too antsy to let the silence sit and wanting this too much to not argue for it the best he could. “Just... disassembling and reassembling it to different music. With a different vibe.”

  “That’s still a lot of work,” Katie finally said. “Mostly for you and Brendan.”

  Aaron nodded. Brendan was, after all, in charge of most of the skaters’ choreography. That was part of the division of labor that he and Katie had, and, generally, it worked well.

  “Is this about what I think it’s about?” Katie asked, narrowing her eyes at him.

  “I don’t know. What do you think it’s about?” Aaron went for his best attempt at innocence.

  For the first time, it occurred to him that whatever Katie knew of what was going on between him and Zack, Brendan knew as well. Which was fine, as far as it went, Aaron didn’t expect Katie to keep secrets from her spouse, especially when they pertained to someone they both coached. But he didn’t want to talk about Zack in front of Brendan. As much as he trusted Brendan, he was still closer to Katie.

  Katie gave him a long, piercing look. Aaron made himself meet her eyes and reminded himself she couldn’t actually read his mind.

  Finally, she sighed, throwing up her hands as she stood up. “If you can work it out with Brendan, it’s fine with me,” she said. She seemed less annoyed than resigned, and Aaron drew a sigh of relief.

  Once Katie had left for a session on the ice with Charlotte, Brendan turned to Aaron. “She’s not upset with you, you know.”

  “I know,” Aaron said. Now that the dread of the conversation was over—and he’d gotten what he wanted—he was thrumming with excited energy again.

  “And I’m willing to put in the time with you, if this is what is going to make it happen for you,” Brendan said. “But it is going to be a lot of work. More for you than for me—and you’re going to have to bring this to camp like we haven’t been making changes on short notice. The music you have is a safe choice.”

  “Safe never won any medals,” Aaron pointed out.

  “All right, safe isn’t a guarantee,” Brendan acceded. “But do you know how many Swan Lake routines have won gold? Or Romeo and Juliet. Or...”

  Aaron cut Brendan off. “Okay, I take your point. But I’ve skated to warhorses for years and they haven’t gotten me where I want to go.” Warhorse was the term in the skating community for any piece of music frequently used—some said overused—by skaters at all levels. They were solid songs, and while Aaron never objected to a good Tango de Roxanne, he craved variety and the originality that could come with it.

  “All right.” Brendan seemed resigned. “What do you have in mind?”

  Aaron pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Can I show you?”

  AT THE END OF THE SONG—IT wasn’t quite the right length for a long program and would need edits, but what didn’t—Brendan narrowed his eyes at Aaron. Aaron was used to scrutiny, but he still had to ball his fists to keep himself from squirming under Brendan’s assessing gaze. He was pretty sure this song had just told Brendan everything there was to know about his deal with Zack regardless of what he already knew from Katie.

  “This?” Brendan asked.

  Aaron nodded. “Yeah.” He felt exposed—though, he reminded himself, if he was going to skate to his song all season, that was a feeling he was going to have to get used to.

  “You’re sure?” Brendan’s face and voice were studiously neutral. Aaron tried not to freak out at the lack of reaction from him.

  “Yeah.” And then again, nodding firmly. “Yes. I’m sure.”

  “All right then,” Brendan said, a smile breaking out on his face. “This song is incredible. Let’s get to work.”

  FITTING IN TIME FOR developing a new program—even one that was mostly, as Aaron had said, pieces of his previous program rearranged—was a challenge. He and Brendan met late that same night, in the time Aaron would usually be working at the rink by himself if he wasn’t home doing books for the restaurant. Or with Zack.

  To Aaron’s surprise, Katie arrived partway through their session. As she had been that morning, she was dressed for the farm; she must have come after her evening rounds with the cows.

  “Getting closer,” she said, watching Aaron finish a step sequence. “But—”

  “Yeah, I see it,” Brendan said, without her needing to finish the sentence. He did a little pivot on the ice, then launched into another set of turns and steps that took him from one end of the sheet
to the other. Aaron’s calves burned just watching it.

  “Do you think you can do that?” Brendan called from the other side of the rink.

  “Uh. Sure.” Aaron, in fact, thought no such thing. All the individual elements were items he was perfectly capable of executing, but in that combination, with the deep edges and flair that Brendan always brought to step sequences... not so much. That was where the hard work, and the magic, would have to be.

  “Also, Aaron,” Katie chimed in. “Please fix your arms, if you’re not gonna skate to a warhorse don’t skate like you’re a warhorse.”

  “Got it.” Aaron rolled his shoulders to loosen some of the tension. Katie was right—his posture and carriage needed grace and flow. Even if his legs felt like they were going to fall off.

  “Ready? And—go,” Katie and Brendan said at the exact same time.

  Aaron chuckled to himself at them as he took a crack at the footwork. The steps were challenging and the speed with the music would be brutal, but it sang.

  Yes, Aaron thought as his blades carved patterns on the ice. This is what it’s supposed to feel like.

  He couldn’t wait for Zack to see it.

  THE NEXT FEW DAYS WERE relentless, unending work. His free skate, to his dismay, got worse, not better. His technical elements were solid, the artistry was there, but the emotion, after those first brilliant days, was a mess—sometimes. Sometimes it was brilliant. Consistency had never been Aaron’s strongest attribute, but that had always been about jumps, not the rest of it. Whatever was going on, it was driving Aaron up a wall.

  Frustration, as it turned out, did not help him skate any better.

  One night, only a few days before camp, Katie reminded him he could go back to his old program. Whereupon he freaked out at her completely about needing to show his true self and broke down in tears in the middle of the ice.