by Erin McRae
“I know.” Aaron sighed plaintively. “But I just got silver at the NHK. That’s a really big deal. And I want someone to celebrate with.”
Katie leaned her chin on her hand. “You mean other than on the phone to your family? And sitting here with me?”
Aaron felt guilty just for thinking it, after all the support they had all given him, but it was true. “Yeah. More or less,” he said.
Katie seemed unbothered. “Fair. But there’s a bar on the other side of the terminal called Business Shark. If you want to have one brief terrible toast to your victory...”
Aaron appreciated the offer more than he knew how to express. But it wasn’t what he wanted. Even with Katie, with whom he cherished such a kinship.
“Thank you,” he said softly. “But I think I’ll hold out for the ice cream.”
THE GRAND PRIX SEASON was a marathon not just of skating, but of travel. A few short weeks after the NHK, was Aaron’s second Grand Prix event, Skate Canada in Montreal. With his strong performance at his first event Aaron had high hopes for his second, even if that didn’t seem truly reasonable to him. He still couldn’t quite believe he’d gotten a silver at NHK, but now corners of sports media were humming quietly about him.
That said, this was not an event where he had a chance of pulling off an unexpected, but not totally shocking, silver. For one thing, Huy was competing for Canada. For another, so was Aizat Beysenov for Kazakhstan. That they’d take gold and silver in one order or the other was a given. Beyond that, everyone from the major network broadcasters to the fans in the stands knew it was a race to bronze, which Aaron, frankly, did not expect to be in.
He also knew that there was no chance he’d place high enough to be able to advance to the Grand Prix Final. That was okay; U.S. Nationals was where it really counted for what he needed to make happen. All he had to do here was keep doing the work and place respectably.
In Montreal, Aaron found it harder to mire himself in loneliness the way he had in Sapporo. Not only Huy, but Charlotte was also competing, which meant he had hotel rooms to hang out in and companions for 5am wakeup times for practice. Brendan also wound up leading late-night yoga sessions to manage their collective nerves and insomnia.
The men’s short program was on Friday; both Huy and Aaron had skated relatively early and were hanging out together backstage watching on the monitor when Aizat popped what should have been a quad lutz.
Huy winced, presumably in empathy for a fellow competitor, but Aaron—rightly or wrongly—started rapidly calculating points margins. When the night ended, the leaderboard confirmed what he already knew: Aizat was lagging, badly, and the door to something other than third place cracked open.
Saturday morning, as Aaron he got dressed for his practice session, his phone barked with an incoming text.
Katie: Skate for your life.
He took Katie as literally as he could and attacked his long program as if it were his last chance to see ice in a dying world. It felt terrifying and reckless and electric and if he couldn’t keep just the barest edge of control over it, he knew he’d wipe out and into last place.
But he’d held on, because he’d had to, and when his scores were announced and he realized he was in second place behind Huy with a personal best. He screamed in the kiss and cry and then buried his face in Brendan’s shoulder.
Brendan closed his hand around the back of Aaron’s neck. “You just won a ticket to the Grand Prix Final.”
For the first time ever. Eat that, Aaron couldn’t help thinking in the general direction of Cayden. Who had all but qualified for the Final with a gold and a silver at his own Grand Prix events, but had already announced he’d be skipping that competition to ‘focus on preparing for Almaty.’ As if he’d already been named to the Olympic team.
Jerk.
In Aaron’s bag at their feet, his phone barked with incoming messages of congratulation. Huy tackled him in a hug on their victory lap, and Aizat, who’d managed bronze, shook his hand warmly. Backstage Charlotte, with her own gold medal from the ladies’ event around her neck, hugged him and kissed both his cheeks. Aaron let himself enjoy the moment, and the night; starting tomorrow, there was a hell of a lot of work to do. He’d been good and he’d been lucky, but the GPF was a whole new level and something he had never experienced before.
When the plane’s wheels touched down on the tarmac at Minneapolis−Saint Paul he had exactly eleven days until he’d be wheels up on his way to Saint Petersburg for the Grand Prix Final. Nothing and no one else could exist. Aaron barely had time to empty his suitcase, do his laundry, and repack it in between training sessions, food, and sleep. If he passed anyone coming or going at the rink, he didn’t notice them.
Medaling in St. Petersburg wasn’t likely for him. This time, truly only bronze would be open, and Aaron would be lucky just not to come in last of the six. And even a good performance wouldn’t guarantee him a spot on the U.S. Olympic team. But it didn’t matter. If he screwed this up or had a bad day, he wouldn’t have a chance. And he’d never forgive himself.
Chapter 22
THE GRAND PRIX FINAL - Men’s Short Program
Miami International Airport
THE MONITOR AT THE gate read Minneapolis−Saint Paul—Delayed, so rather than sit and check the departure time obsessively for the next however long it took, he decided to take a walk.
He ambled around the terminal for a while, taking refuge in people-watching rather than thinking about, well, anything, really: His parents sucked, his ex sucked, and flying sucked; he just wanted to be home, which was now far away and cold. He stepped to the side of the concourse as a flood of passengers disembarked from a just-arrived plane, and just then noticed one of the TV screens in the bar across the way. Figure skating, especially men's, was the last sport he'd expected to encounter in a bar in Florida, and yet there was an ice rink with a lone figure standing in the middle of it.
Zack squinted to see better. It couldn't possibly be...and yet. Aaron's black costume for the short program, studded with silver and rhinestones, shone out even across the concourse.
Zack made his way through the crowd of just-landed tourists and made his way to the TV just in time to see Aaron close his eyes and start to skate. The volume was way down, but Zack could hear the music in his head anyway. He'd watched Aaron practice often enough.
Whatever this broadcast lacked in sound, it made up for in close-up shots. Zack hadn't ever been able to see Aaron's face like this before, even when he’d been watching him from just across the boards. He was as utterly mesmerizing as when Zack had had him in his own bed; more, perhaps, because Aaron was making himself this vulnerable, this expressive, this himself not just for Zack but for anyone who might be watching. And this wasn’t even the program that was—according to Aaron—about the two of them.
Aaron closed his eyes again on what Zack knew was his final spin. He struck his ending pose and the crowd, after a moment's hush, exploded in applause—Zack still couldn't hear them, but he could read it in their faces and in the way they jumped out of their seats.
Aaron was thousands of miles away, but when he opened his eyes again, they landed on the camera and—Zack was absolutely sure—on him.
Zack was spellbound. The broadcast was, somehow, live—who here cares that much about figure skating to turn this on?—and he had to stay and watch. Aaron took his bows and skated to the edge of the ice where he was instantly pulled into a massive hug by Brendan. Sitting in the kiss and cry, Aaron's leg jiggled with nervous energy while Brendan chatted animatedly with him, clearly trying to distract him from the interminable wait.
When the scores came up, Zack still wasn't well versed enough in the intricacies of the scoring system to be able to understand what it all meant, but he did understand the big "Current Standing - 2nd" beside Aaron's name.
Zack had been trying so hard to stay away from everything figuring skating; hockey was so much safer for his heart. So he had no idea how many skaters were
left or when the free skate was. And oh, how he wished he did. Before he could find any of that out, though, a boarding announcement crackled over the airport's PA. "Final call for flight to Minneapolis−Saint Paul, final call—"
He had to sprint back through the concourse to get on the plane before the doors shut.
ZACK HEAVED A SIGH of relief as he pulled into the driveway of Marie’s house, already feeling more at ease here than he had anywhere in Miami.
When he stepped out of the car the air was crisp with the promise of winter. Even that was welcome, in its way; cold was an indelible part here of life in the Twin Cities. Marie was in the front yard, raking the last of the leaves, though she stopped to return his wave.
“Welcome back,” she said as Zack unloaded his bags from the trunk of the car—another rental; his own car wouldn’t arrive from Florida for another few days.
“It’s good to be back,” Zack said.
“Wonderful. I’m glad you made it in one piece,” Marie said. “But now that you’re here,” she gestured with the hand not holding her rake. “I can tell you, it’s time for you to find a new place.”
“I....” Zack rocked back on his heels, stunned. He’d just spent a week closing out his life in Miami, and he’d just landed back in the Twin Cities. He knew his three-month lease extension with Marie was just about up, but he’d been vaguely hoping she’d let him stay on longer again. “Why?” He couldn’t help asking.
“Because if you’re going to be hanging around here for a while longer, and I suspect you are, you need a more permanent place than my in-law apartment,” Marie said. “I need my in-law apartment for actual visiting skaters who are not functional adults who should be allowed to be totally on their own.”
Which Zack could surely appreciate, and yet.... “I’m not sure I’m a functional adult who should be allowed to be totally on my own,” Zack said, trying to lighten a moment that was wildly unbalancing.
Marie put a hand on her hip and looked him over. “That makes two of us. But my understanding is that you’ve been trying to fix that?”
“Yeah?” That much, at bare minimum, was true.
“Great,” Marie nodded firmly, like that settled the matter. “Then you get to make room for some competitive skater or other who has never lived entirely in the real world or on their own.”
“Okay.” he said. There was the direct communication his therapist was always trying to encourage. And then there was this. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No. Stop looking guilty like that. And this has absolutely nothing to do with the fact you were seeing Aaron Sheftall. To be clear.”
Zack hadn’t known he was capable of blushing; apparently, in front Marie at least, he totally was. “You knew about that? You never said.”
“Pretty sure I heavily implied I knew, but say anything? Why would I? You’re both adults. It’s none of my business.”
“Even for the gossip?” Off-kilter as he felt, Zack couldn’t help teasing.
Marie winked at him; the gesture felt oddly anchoring. “Even for the gossip. Your secrets are safe with me.”
“All right. So like...now, or?”
Marie scowled at him. “Would I kick you out like that? No. But you’ll thank yourself if you’re in a place of your own by the new year. If you need help looking, you know where you can find me.”
And with that, Marie went back to her raking, leaving Zack feeling more discombobulated than ever.
AT HOCKEY PRACTICE the next morning Zack was pleased to find that he hadn’t lost too much ground. He’d only been in Florida a week, but that had been the longest he’d been off the ice since he’d started. He even remembered not to keep looking over his shoulder to see if Aaron was passing by on his way to his own practice; after all, Aaron was still in Russia.
“Hey, glad to have you back!” Matt said cheerily as they eased off their padding and unlaced their skates in the locker room. “How was Miami?”
“Complicated,” Zack replied honestly.
“Well, you did a lot of hard work there. You should be proud of yourself,” Matt said earnestly.
“Calling 1-800-Got-Junk and also telling my parents off wasn’t exactly hard work. Unpleasant, but.”
“Still. You did it and you should feel good about that.”
“Maybe once I get caught up on sleep.” At the very mention of it, Zack had to stifle a yawn. “But I’m glad to be done. Finally. But then I got back here and Marie told me I needed to find my own place.”
“You should!” Matt said enthusiastically. “A whole new start and all that. Do you know where you want to move? My building might have an opening; I can ask. And we’ll all help you move,” Matt said, speaking to the team at large.
He was met by various nods and verbal assents. Zack was touched and little overwhelmed by the support. He cleared his throat as he packed his skates back in his bag. “Thanks. All of you. I don’t have a plan yet, I haven’t had a chance to think about it. But I’ll take apartment leads if you have them.”
“Great!” Matt stood up, hefting his own hockey bag, and slapped Zack on the shoulder. “We’re all going out for drinks tomorrow night, you’re gonna come, right?”
“Definitely.” Maybe it was just how the Twin Cities treated all comers in need of a home, but Zack was folding back into the pleasant routine of life here as if he’d never left. After the ordeal of the holiday, it was a balm to his soul.
Zack had every intention of getting back to his car, driving back to Marie’s house, and sleeping for several more hours before he embarked on work for any sort. But as he made his way down the hallway between rinks, he passed the conference room with the door ajar. Glancing in, he saw Nikolai, one of the junior men’s skaters, fiddling with a laptop projecting something on a screen at the side of the room, Katie was beside him scrolling through something on her phone.
Nikolai glanced up and, catching Zack’s eye, waved. Katie looked up and gave him a nod. Zack waved back, ready to keep walking and get back to his car—and his bed—as soon as possible, but then he noticed what was playing on the screen: A figure skating competition.
He stopped; he couldn’t help himself. “Is that the Grand Prix Final?” he asked from the doorway.
“It is!” Nikolai said brightly. “The ladies finished about an hour ago. Charlotte came in third! Chiemi Maeda won, of course. Men’s free skate is just about to start.”
Katie just gave a terse nod of acknowledgement, now typing rapidly on her phone. Zack had no idea who Chiemi Maeda was, and made a mental note to read up on skaters from other disciplines.
Nikolai bounced on the balls of his feet, evidently excited. “Do you want to stay and watch?”
Zack had already stepped inside the room without consciously realizing it. “If I’m not intruding.”
“Not at all!”
A few more people trickled into the room as the zamboni on the screen finished its resurfacing. Evidently they’d been here to watch the women skate as well and had just been taking a break; bags and coats were piled in the back of the room, which Zack noticed when he went to set down his own gear.
“They’re starting, they’re starting!” Nikolai called, and all at once the volume of chatter in the room dropped as people gathered around the screen.
For all the time Zack had spent around elite competitive figure skaters, he hadn’t yet watched a competition alongside them. St. Petersburg was on the other side of the planet, but Zack felt like he was experiencing the tension and excitement firsthand, channeled through the other skaters.
Katie kept herself slightly separate from the other skaters, phone now clenched tightly in her hand. Between skaters, she paced the length of the room. When someone was on the ice, she stood as if transfixed, her eyes glued to the screen. Zack could feel the tension rolling off of her. She was absolutely freaking out.
Zack couldn’t blame her. Some of the kids in the room talked in between skaters, comparing rankings and season’s best scores and
how much room there was or wasn’t for the remaining skaters to medal. He wished they wouldn’t; he was nervous enough for Aaron without the ongoing reminders that his most likely placement was fifth or sixth...in a field of six.
“Katie,” he called between skaters.
She whipped around sharply, as if displeased to have her pacing interrupted.
“Do you want to sit with me?” He asked on a whim. He tried to make his voice as gentle as possible. “We can do breathing exercises together.”
“He’s not your problem anymore,” she said even as she drew closer to him. “But he’s still mine.”
“I know. I’m not making it about him. I’m making it about you.”
She looked at him quizzically.
“I know it feels like you’re going to die,” he said softly. He didn’t know why this was suddenly so important to him, but it seemed like the right thing to do. He was entangled with these people whether any of them liked it or not. “And I know you can’t change that. But come on, I have experience with this type of misery. We can be panic buddies. Just for right now.”
“Okay,” she said, grudgingly, taking a seat next to him on the floor. “Just for right now.”
Chapter 23
THE GRAND PRIX FINAL - Men’s Free Skate
Saint Petersburg, Russia
AARON hated skating last. Skating last meant more time waiting, stressing out, and exerting every possible effort to keep his nerves under control. Skating last at the Grand Prix Final was even worse. Huy and Aizat were top-five world skaters; Aaron had never made it to the Final before and didn’t even feel like he was in the same league as them. No one had travelled all the way to Saint Petersburg to see him skate. Half the audience, he suspected, was here for Huy alone. And no one, after seeing Aizat’s show-stopping program, would care what Team USA’s Aaron Sheftall had to offer.
