“Em, slow down.” Sergei placed his palm on the table, and his face spread into a smile. “That’s not what I was thinking.”
“Oh. Sorry.” I gave him a sheepish look.
“I was going to say . . .” He paused. “I don’t want you to just help with the choreography next season. I’d like you to create their entire short program, if you’re interested.”
“Yes!” I grinned. “Definitely, I would love that.”
“You have great ideas, and you work really well with the kids. Courtney’s improved so much as a performer, and it’s because of you.”
The waitress set down two steaming mugs of coffee, and Sergei passed me two packets of Sweet & Low, just like old times. I smiled to myself. Every time I smelled brewing coffee or heard the whirr of a cappuccino machine, I still thought of Sergei.
“Thanks. I love coaching them. Courtney’s become like the little sister I always wanted.”
Sergei blew on his coffee, making a low whistle. “I always wanted a brother.”
“Classic only child wishes.” I smiled. “I’m lucky, though, that I have a bunch of cousins I’m close to.”
“Will they be part of your cheering section tomorrow night?”
“Oh, yeah. And there’ll be some relatives there I haven’t seen in ages. I think everyone I’m remotely related to who lives within a hundred miles is coming.” I scratched my thumbnail along the handle of my mug. “No pressure or anything.”
“It can be tough, skating at home. But as long as you stay focused on the program and forget who’s watching, you’ll do fine.”
“I just feel like there are so many expectations, and I don’t want to disappoint everyone.” I lifted my coffee, and the steam floated toward me, warming my nose. “I don’t just want to skate well. I want to have two amazing skates.”
Sergei put down his cup. “Em, you can’t let yourself think about blowing everyone away with amazing performances. You have to trust your training and let it happen.”
“I know, but sometimes it’s hard to block out all the outside voices.”
“Well, I’ll remind you over and over again tomorrow.”
“Maybe you should call me every half hour,” I joked.
“I was thinking every fifteen minutes.” He grinned and laid his arm across the back of the chair next to him.
I laughed and soaked in the positive energy between us. As I sipped my coffee, I watched Sergei rest his hand on the table next to his mug. What would happen if I reached out and put my hand on his? Let my fingertips caress the smooth skin, the soft brush of hair just below his watch. Would the earth stop turning?
I didn’t have a chance to find out because Sergei picked up his cup. He asked me more about the family I was expecting at the short program, and we chatted until both our mugs were empty.
Sergei pulled his phone from the pocket of his black leather jacket to call a taxi, but I didn’t want the nice evening to end so quickly. “Why don’t we take the T back to the hotel? We can walk to the Arlington station from here.”
“It’s pretty cold out. You sure you want to walk?”
“We can cut through the Public Garden. It’s not too far.”
The sidewalks were slick in some spots from the earlier snowfall, so I strolled carefully in my heeled boots. As Sergei and I waited at the traffic light on the corner of Charles and Beacon Streets, the Starbucks behind us hummed with activity, full of people getting their coffee fix. When the light changed to green, we crossed over Beacon and entered the Public Garden.
Snow covered all the trees and statues, giving the park an even more serene feel than usual. A beautiful oasis from the busy streets surrounding it, the Garden was one of my favorite spots in the city. On summer days, the space was alive with tourists riding the Swan Boats in the lagoon and children feeding the ducks. Tonight, stillness reigned in the frozen landscape.
“Aunt Deb and Uncle Joe live about a block from here. They don’t have a backyard, so my cousins and I used to play here all the time. We’d have bike races around the lagoon, and Trey would always beat me.” I frowned.
“Did you cry when you didn’t win?” Sergei teased.
I jutted out my chin but tried not to laugh. “I’m not that sore of a loser.”
He smiled. “No, you’re just incredibly interested in winning.”
“You should be grateful for my competitiveness.”
“Oh, I am.” Sergei stopped walking and softened his voice. “I’m very, very grateful.”
We stood as still as the large statue of George Washington in front of us. When we both started to speak at the same time, we laughed as we talked over each other.
“You go ahead,” Sergei said.
I toyed with my gloves, contemplating if I should keep my thoughts to myself. After all, I shouldn’t have such feelings, and I wondered every day if they would ever go away. But standing there with Sergei, I couldn’t let the moment pass.
“I was going to say I’ve missed this.” I peeked up at Sergei. “Talking to you like this.”
He stuck his hands in his pockets and stayed silent as his eyes studied me. I could’ve kicked myself for opening my mouth and getting mushy.
He finally said quietly, “I wish things–”
My phone rang, cutting him off. I internally cursed it and hoped if I let it ring, Sergei would carry on.
“Do you want to get that?” he asked.
“No, it’s okay,” I said as the ringing stopped. “What were you saying?”
No sooner were the words out of my mouth than the phone rang again. I wanted to throw it into the nearest tree.
“You should probably get it,” Sergei said.
I took the phone out of my purse and saw Drew’s name on the screen. Guilt rolled in my stomach. He’d been scheduled to arrive in town that evening, and we’d made plans to meet after dinner. Once Sergei had asked me to have coffee, the whole world had disappeared, and I’d forgotten I needed to be somewhere.
“Hey, Drew. Did you have a good flight?”
Sergei wandered away from me and toward the statue where I couldn’t see his face.
“Yeah, we were right on time,” Drew said. “I was just wondering where you were because I saw Courtney at the hotel and figured you must be done with dinner.”
“Sergei wanted to talk to me. We’re on our way back now.”
“Cool. I’ll meet you in the lobby.”
“Okay, see you soon.”
I hung up the phone and went over to where Sergei stood. He cleared his throat. “We should get going.”
The warmth between us had disappeared. He started walking, so I assumed our previous conversation was over. Meaningless chit-chat was all he offered as we rode the train to Copley Station. When we arrived at the hotel, he couldn’t get away fast enough.
“Have a good night,” he said over his shoulder and vanished into the elevator.
Drew greeted me with a hug and tried to kiss me, but I turned my head so his mouth hit my cheek. His face dropped, and I knew I had to say something before I hurt him any further.
“Why don’t we go sit over there?” I pointed to a sofa outside the shuttered lobby coffee shop.
He followed me to the couch. Concern creased around his eyes. “Did I do something?”
“No, not at all. I just don’t think I can get involved with anyone right now. I mean, I’m East Coast, you’re West Coast . . . I think it’s best if we keep things chill.” He was quiet, so I added, “I’m so sorry to dump this on you here. I should’ve said something before.”
“So, you just wanna be friends.” Disappointment was evident in both his voice and his eyes.
“I hope that’s okay? I still want to hang out this week, especially at the party. You’re the best dance partner out of everyone here.” I tapped his arm.
Thankfully, I got a little smile out of him. “Don’t you forget it.”
“Does that mean we’re good?” I looked at him anxiously.
“I’m not gonna lie . . . I wanted more, but I understand why you don’t wanna start something when I live across the country.”
Another twinge of guilt hit me for not being completely honest, but I pushed it down. “I’m so glad you’re not mad. I was scared you were going to tell me to get lost.”
“You can’t get rid of me that easily,” he said with a crooked grin.
I needed to wake up early for practice the next morning, so we kept the rest of our visit brief. As I prepared for bed, I thought about the scene in the Garden earlier and scrubbed my face extra hard in frustration, wondering what Sergei was going to say when he’d been interrupted.
Somehow, I had to put aside the turmoil in my heart and focus on performing the next day. Unlike my emotions, skating was a part of my life I could actually control.
Chapter Eleven
Only a few empty seats remained when Chris and I boarded the bus to the Fleet Center for our short program. Filled with skaters, coaches, and spectators, the large charter bus pulled away from the hotel, escorted by two Boston Police motorcycles to guide us through rush hour traffic.
Knowing I didn’t like to chat before competitions, Chris turned to Trevor across the aisle. The two of them joked and laughed like they were on their way to a party instead of the biggest event of the year. I would kill to be that loose.
My ears picked up on the conversation between two fans sitting in front of us. The two women didn’t appear to be acquainted but brought together by the lack of available seats.
“Have you been to Nationals before?” the older lady asked.
“This is my first,” the younger one replied. “It’s so wild, riding on the bus with the skaters!”
I smiled, thinking how crazy it was that people were excited to be on the same vehicle as me. I’d signed hundreds of autographs and posed for countless photos at our practices in Boston but still didn’t think of myself as a celebrity. Celebrities were skaters like Kristi Yamaguchi and Brian Boitano.
Soon, you could be a champion like them.
I shivered and stared out the window at the brownstones on Beacon Street, trying to channel my thoughts on the clean run-through we’d done at practice that morning. Every time I’d envision myself completing an element, the police sirens would wail and spike my adrenaline further.
The bus rolled up to the arena, and I shot to my feet before we even parked.
Trevor laughed. “Ready to go, Em?”
Was I ready? I was physically prepared, for certain. But was I mentally ready to live up to everyone’s expectations? To my own?
Those questions plagued me for the next hour. Hovering around us backstage, Sergei reminded us, “Trust your training. Trust your body.” But the nagging thoughts wouldn’t leave me alone. Before I put on my skates, I jogged up and down the hallway, clearing my head of the buzz that had followed us all week.
America’s next great pair. Best technical skills in the world. A team that can finally challenge the Russians.
All statements I’d heard during our interviews and from the fans. If we mucked up the short program, I’d go back to being known as the girl who choked under pressure.
Chris and I took the ice for our introduction, and the massiveness of the arena struck me. We’d practiced there earlier in the week, but full to capacity with screaming fans, the building suddenly appeared ten times bigger. The Celtics and Bruins banners hanging from the rafters seemed miles away.
I closed my eyes and concentrated on breathing. In. Out. In. Out.
Dear God, please help me through this.
The announcer’s voice boomed, and my eyes popped open.
“She represents the Skating Club of Boston, while he comes to us from the Lighthouse Figure Skating Club in Dennis, Massachusetts. Please give a warm welcome to Emily Butler and Christopher Grayden.”
The audience erupted, their vigor rattling through me. I settled next to Chris to begin, and he whispered, “We got this.”
Our music filled the air, and my body reacted with a jolt of movement. We’d trained this program almost every day for eight months. The choreography was practically a reflex now. But the upcoming triple twist required more than reflexes. I needed a strength and power I didn’t feel in my legs at the moment.
Gritting my teeth and saying another prayer, I flew straight up and muscled three rotations. I descended into Chris’s waiting hands, and the crowd responded with thundering applause. A spark of confidence spread from my fingers to my toes.
With each completed element, I gained strength. After we nailed the jumps, we put more of our energy into the choreography, and the audience was with us every step, clapping along to the Spanish suite. Chris pressed me up into our overhead lift, and the wind blew across my smile, drying my lips. The crowd “oohed and aahed” as we covered three-quarters of the rink. Upon the clean set down, the cheers rang louder and didn’t lower while we whirled into our final move, the pair spin.
Right on the highest note of the music we spun to a stop, and a shower of applause and gifts rained down on us. My body relaxed with a deep exhale as Chris hugged me.
One shrill cheer stood out from the rest, and I spotted my sixteen-year-old cousin Bri running down the aisle. She flung a pink garment onto the ice, so I skated over and retrieved it, giving her a wave as I headed for the Kiss & Cry. I unrolled the bundle and discovered a pink Red Sox jersey bearing number five for my favorite player, Nomar Garciaparra.
Chris laughed but then complained, “No Orioles jersey for me?”
I giggled. “Not in Bahston.”
Sergei met us with a satisfied smile. “Best short this season.”
I basked in the glow of his praise, unable to stop grinning. We filed onto the bench in the Kiss & Cry, and I slipped the jersey over my costume. With a wave to the TV camera, I pointed at the front of my shirt. “Thank you, Boston!”
Sergei offered us a couple of tissues, and I patted my face. The bright television lights positioned on us were making me sweat even more. On the monitor, the first of numerous 5.8’s flashed, and Chris let out a quiet, “Yes.” The scores reflected Sergei’s assessment of our program–5.8’s for technical merit and 5.9’s for presentation, the highest we’d received all season.
Our names showed at the top of the leaderboard, and Chris and I high-fived. On my other side, Sergei squeezed his arm around my shoulders.
“You took a big step forward tonight,” he told us. “Let’s keep the momentum going.”
I gazed up at the Jumbotron and our names in first place. In forty-eight hours, we could be national champions.
The gold medal was so close I could feel it hanging around my neck.
****
After lunch the next afternoon, Aubrey, Marley, and I walked to the mall connected to our hotel. My friends were competing in the free dance that night, and they needed a distraction to keep from stressing.
We came upon a kiosk selling stuffed animals, and Marley picked up a teddy bear with a red heart sewn on its chest.
“I should get this for Chris for tomorrow night.”
Aubrey shook her head. “You two are so sickeningly sweet.”
“What do you have against romance?” Marley asked.
“It’s too much effort. It’s easier to date casually and not make commitments,” Aubrey said, moving around the cart.
I petted the bear’s velvety fur. “It’s adorable. Chris will love it. I think he has something special for you tonight.”
Marley smiled, breaking into the moony look she wore whenever we talked about my partner. “How are things with you and Drew? Has he sent you any more flowers?”
Aubrey rejoined us as I said, “I told him we should just be friends. You know, since he lives in L.A. and all.”
“Oh.” Marley’s smile deflated. “That’s too bad. From what Chris said, it sounded like he was pretty into you.”
She went to the cashier, and I wandered to the adjacent kiosk, which was selling Russian nesting dolls. Aubre
y followed me and stood at my elbow as I examined a doll bearing a picture of an angel.
“Is distance the only reason you blew off Drew?”
“I can’t handle more than friendship right now.” I kept my eyes on the figurine.
Aubrey lowered her voice. “I was wondering if maybe you still have a thing for Sergei.”
I carefully returned the doll to the display. “He and I can’t happen, so . . .”
“That’s not answering the question.”
“It doesn’t matter how I feel,” I said and walked briskly over to Marley.
Aubrey caught up with me, and the three of us started in the direction of the Sheraton. Viktor came toward us from the opposite side of the walkway and pointed a dark glare at Marley and Aubrey.
“You should be resting at the hotel.”
They both froze and viewed him with unblinking stares. One command from Viktor’s heavy Russian tone had that kind of power. In his mid-thirties, he wasn’t a bad-looking guy–jet black hair neatly slicked back, deep set eyes, and a firm build. But he always seemed to be appraising everything and everyone around him.
“We’re on our way back,” Aubrey said quietly.
Viktor continued to glare at her. “Don’t forget, you’re wearing your hair down tonight.”
“Yes. I know.” Aubrey sounded like a robot.
“Marley, remind Zach to bring the red tie, not the black one,” he said.
“I will,” she said in the same obedient manner as Aubrey.
Viktor left us without any further words, and we moved along in silence. The man was known for his networking prowess with judges and officials, but he sure didn’t waste any conversation on his students.
****
Watching Aubrey and Marley skate their best and win the silver and pewter medals gave me an extra boost of inspiration for the free skate. As Chris and I stood alongside the boards in the moments before our program, Sergei zoned our attention to him and empowered me even further.
“You have the courage and the ability to do this.”
Life on the Edge Page 9
