by Frank Downey
She got back to Detroit and moved into Shawna’s house. She had only had to bring her personal stuff, as Shawna had furniture. Courtney moved into the guest room.
"Can you cook?" Shawna asked.
"Believe it or not, yes," Courtney laughed. "I’ll do some of the cooking, if you want—I like to cook. You just have to let me know what you like."
"I’m not picky," Shawna replied.
"Hey, it’s your house," Courtney said. "Whatever you want."
"Why the hell are you being so cooperative?" Shawna spat. "That’s certainly not your usual style." Courtney just shrugged.
Courtney and Evan hit the ice that next Monday—and, for Courtney, it was brutal.
Evan believed in hard work anyway—but he was really pushing it. To Courtney, it seemed like he was almost being unnecessarily cruel. And it got worse on Tuesday. Courtney hurt herself—she actually had, this wasn’t an excuse. They were working, and Courtney lost an edge and twisted her ankle. Not bad, but she was in a bit of pain.
"Oh, suck it up," Even spat.
"I’m trying," Courtney said. Of course, being Courtney, this phrase was accompanied by her usual pouting and flashing her baby blues. She was barely aware that she was even doing it. Evan took at as a manipulation attempt, and quietly went off on her.
"Don’t even try to pull that shit on me, Courtney, it won’t work."
"What are you talking about?"
"You know exactly what I’m talking about. Now shut up and skate."
Shawna quietly chuckled to herself about all this—until she got home and noticed that Courtney was limping around the kitchen as she cooked supper. Then, after supper, Shawna wandered into the living room and found Courtney watching TV—with ice taped around her ankle.
"You really did hurt your ankle?" Shawna said.
"No, I’m faking it," Courtney snapped. "I really like being yelled at, so I figured I’d fake an injury so Evan would go off on me some more." Shawna just shook her head and dropped the subject.
Wednesday, if anything, was worse—for a different reason. Courtney showed up at the rink, and Evan had a tape player. "I’ve got the music for our free dance." He played it.
Courtney hated it. It was dark, and foreboding, and not Courtney’s style at all. "Do I get any say in this?" she asked.
"No," Evan said darkly. "I know what you and Ryan skated to. All that overused twee crap. What were you going to suggest? Carmen?" he spat.
"No, but not what you just played me."
"Too bad. You should get one thing straight. I’m only skating with you because I have no other options, and I’m not happy about it. So, we’re going to do this my way. Natalya’s going to start working on a program with us."
They did. And Courtney hated it. The music wasn’t pleasant at all, her ankle started throbbing again, and she was having trouble doing some of the stuff that Evan wanted her to do. The day ended with Evan throwing her off the ice a half hour early. "Come back when you want to work!" he hollered.
Shawna watched all this with a grim satisfaction, though less so after she had realized that Courtney wasn’t faking the sore ankle. She still didn’t have much of an opinion of Courtney, and was waiting for Courtney to show her fangs.
So, she was very surprised that night when she happened to walk past the door to Courtney’s room—and heard her sobbing inside.
The same thing happened Thursday—and Shawna heard the same thing Thursday night. Friday morning, she called Evan and asked to meet him for a cup of coffee before they headed to the rink.
"I’m going to shock you with what I’m about to say," Shawna said. "But I think you need to ease up on that girl."
"WHAT?" Evan said.
"I’m serious. Ev, I’ve walked past her bedroom the last two nights, and she was in there crying. And she really did hurt her ankle, she’s been icing it down every night. And what’s this with the music? I always had a say in the music. How can you expect her to skate her best when she hates the music? She should have veto power, at least." She snorted. "I have to tell you, Ev, I hate that music."
"You don’t have to skate to it," Evan laughed.
"Ev, why are you doing this? Are you trying to drive her out of the rink?"
"No, I’m trying to break her. Look, it’s all an act, Shawna—and she’s sucking you into it. Sooner or later, we’re going to have an explosion and the Courtney we all know and loathe is going to start to try to throw her weight around. I want to break her before that happens. She needs to know who’s boss."
"I think you already broke her."
Evan snorted, "I highly doubt it."
Friday’s practice was more of the same. Shawna avoided Courtney at home that night. She didn’t walk past Courtney’s bedroom. She didn’t want to hear it.
Saturday morning, Shawna walked into the kitchen and found Courtney mixing batter in a bowl. "Good morning," Courtney smiled. "Pancakes OK?"
"Great," Shawna said. "You’re in a better mood this morning."
"Yeah, I don’t have to go to the rink," Courtney laughed.
"Ah, Evan will ease up."
"I doubt that. Besides which, any day I don’t have to skate is a good day."
Shawna looked at her. "You don’t like skating?"
Courtney snorted. "Are you kidding me?"
"Then why do you do it?"
"Because it’s all I know how to do. It’s what I’ve been trained to do. Without skating, I have nothing."
"You could do something else," Shawna said.
"Like what? Do you know I’ve never seen the inside of a school building? I was homeschooled my whole life—and it was sparingly. Mom bamboozled the authorities about what I was learning. Trust me, it wasn’t much. I’m OK with reading and stuff, but that’s because I like to do that on my own. I can barely balance a checkbook, and anything like algebra is completely beyond me. What I know about history only comes from books that I’ve found to read. Science? Forget it. I’m completely ignorant. I have been programmed since practically birth for one thing and one thing only—figure skating. So, that’s what I do. Have to put food on the table somehow."
"Why is your mother like this?"
"Damned if I know," Courtney snorted, pouring the batter into the pan. "Oh, and I taught myself how to cook, too. Anyway, my mother—she wanted to be a figure skater, but my grandparents had no money. My Mom grew up dirt-poor. When she was twenty, she got out the only way she could think of—she married a 67-year-old man who was filthy rich. My Mom was gorgeous when she was younger. He got what he wanted—a babe on his arm, and one that gave him regular sex. She got what she wanted—money. And, eventually, me—so she could program me into being the figure skater that she couldn’t be. Dad died when I was four—so much the better for Mom, who now had all that money, me as her little skating puppet, and nobody to answer to."
Shawna just looked at Courtney in shock, as Courtney pulled the pancakes out of the pan and stacked them on a plate. When she had enough, she carried the plate to the table, and sat down across from Shawna.
"You must have had no childhood," Shawna said finally.
"What figure skater does? But I had less than most. I have no friends. No boyfriend. I have skating, that’s it."
"And you don’t particularly like skating."
"It’s a job," she shrugged. "That’s how I look at it."
That’s when Shawna realized something—she didn’t know Courtney at all. Nobody did. There was more to this girl than the heinous bitch that everyone had seen. And that’s when she made a decision—to get to know her. She wanted to find out what beat at the heart of Courtney Rogers. And that surprised her—because she wasn’t even sure that Courtney had a heart. Well, she hadn’t been sure. Now, she rather suspected that Courtney did have a heart.
Evan made his own decision that weekend. He wasn’t planning on easing up on Courtney, but he did realize he was doing something just to pick a fight that didn’t need to be picked—the music. He went through
his library that weekend and found a few other selections.
When Courtney got to the rink the next Monday, Evan pulled her over to the tape player. "All right, how about this?" he said, and played the new selections. They were still powerful and strong, but there was a lovely slow section in the middle, and they weren’t discordant.
"I like that," Courtney smiled. "That would be fine to skate to. Thank you."
"You’re welcome," Evan said, incredulous. He was absolutely stunned that she had thanked him. Because of that—almost without thinking about it—he eased up on her that day. And he was getting results, much to his amazement.
Tuesday was more of the same. Except, at one point, Courtney tripped and fell, banging her head on the boards as she went down. Evan quickly skated over. "Are you all right?" he asked.
"I’m fine," Courtney said. "Clumsy, but fine."
"Are you sure?" Shawna asked from the stands. "You’re not seeing three of Evan, are you?"
"No, thank goodness, one is more than enough," Courtney quipped. Evan, surprised, couldn’t help but laugh. Courtney grinned back, and then said, "Well, since you’re being so solicitous, much to my amazement, would you mind helping me up?" Evan laughed louder, and helped her up.
The rest of the day went very well—but, that night, at home, Shawna had a revelation.
She met Evan early the next morning for coffee again, and she told him about it. First she told him about the conversation she had had with Courtney on Saturday.
"Damn," Evan said. "Some people should never be parents."
"Yep. And it got worse last night. Listen, you’ve seen what she’s been like—especially this week, when you’ve eased up on her somewhat. She’s been fairly pleasant. Relaxed, even. She’s been like that with me at home, too. And then, last night, her mother called.
"Now, they got in a fight over the phone—but it was what happened before that was really spooky. I was the one that answered the phone, see, and the minute I said, ‘Courtney, it’s your mom,’ she changed. Her whole back went rigid. Her shoulders went rigid. Her face went from normally pleasant to a fierce scowl—she looked like she wanted to bite the phone out of my hand. And I’m not even sure she was aware she was doing it.
"She was like that the whole time she was on the phone. When she hung up, she relaxed again, and I mean visibly."
"What do you make of all this?" Evan asked. "I know you have an answer—you’re the one that was a psychology major."
"Yeah, but I never finished. Hmmm, now that I’m not skating anymore, maybe I’ll go back to school. Anyway, yes, I do have an answer. Courtney’s angry. She’s very angry—but she’s angry with her mother. Unfortunately, up until very recently she was completely dependent on her mother. So she took her anger out on everyone else."
"Ah," Evan said. "So, you think that’s why she hasn’t taken any anger out on me, even when I pushed her—because her mother’s not here?"
"Right. She’s not angry with you. And she’s worried that you are angry with her. And, I have to tell you, there’s pieces to this puzzle I don’t have yet—I know it."
"You’ll figure it out," Evan said reassuringly.
On Saturday, she did. First of all, though, they got through the rest of the week of practice and it went very well. By Friday, they’d finished the first section of the free dance. They ran through it a couple of times, and it was excellent.
At home, Courtney said to Shawna, "That was fun!"
"You had fun skating?" Shawna said.
"Yeah. Unbelievable, isn’t it?"
She seemed pretty upbeat for the rest of the night. On Saturday, however, things changed. Saturday morning, after breakfast, she got a call from her mother. Shawna left the room, not wanting to watch Courtney on the phone. Afterwards, Shawna walked back in the room. Courtney looked completely disconsolate.
"She’s coming here," Courtney said despairingly.
"Your mother?"
"Yeah. She’s going to sell the house in Madison and move here. Damn it all!"
"Can’t you do anything to stop here?"
"What can I do?" Courtney asked.
"Let me think about it. And I’ll talk to Evan. He’s better at this sort of thing than I am. He’s very analytical. If there’s a way to stop this, he’ll come up with it."
"OK," Courtney said. She sat there for a good long minute, staring hopelessly into space. Then, suddenly, she said, "I lost my virginity when I was 13."
"Huh?" Shawna said, startled at the change of subject.
"Yeah. With Ryan. He was 16 at the time. It was his first, too."
"Oh. I thought you were all moral and Christian and that."
Courtney snorted. "Publicity. My mother thought it would be a good idea if we positioned ourselves as the anti-Kellehers. Fat lot of good that did."
"Yeah. You were awfully young when you guys did it. He didn’t force you?"
"Ryan?" she snorted. "You know Ryan Killen better than that."
"You must have really been in love with him, then—or horny," Shawna laughed.
Courtney snorted out a giggle, but then got serious. "Neither. You know, I think I fell a little bit in love with him later—but I also hated him. It’s complicated. But I didn’t sleep with him for any normal reason." She took a deep breath. "I slept with him because my mother had convinced me that sex is what you did to keep a man around."
"Oh," Shawna said, completely horrified but trying to hide it.
"Yeah. You know, I often think it would’ve been easier if Ryan had been brutal. I was sleeping with him for the most calculating and mercenary of reasons. It might have been easier if he just took his piece and rolled off of me. But you know Ryan—he’s not like that. He was gentle and all that. I actually came—which was the last thing I expected. I wasn’t having sex for sex—shit, I was 13. I was spreading my legs to keep him interested. And he gave me an orgasm. That’s the day I started hating him. And falling in love with him. All at the same time.
"God, I’m so fucked up."
Shawna looked at her. "Courtney? Why are you telling me all this? Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind at all, but why me?"
"Because you’re the only one that ever cared to listen," Courtney said sadly.
"Oh," Shawna said. "Then you just keep talking if you need to."
Courtney shot her a grateful smile. "Anyhow, Ryan and I went on like that for a while. You know what sex was like with us? I either completely dominated him, or lied down motionless. That was because I was ‘offering’ myself for his sake. The first was because I hated him. But I didn’t.
"You can probably imagine what that was like for him. But he never knew what was going on in my mind—and he did try. Somehow I had lumped him in with my mother. I wasn’t going to trust him. And I should have.
"When he found his girlfriend, I panicked. That’s why I gave him the ‘her or me’ ultimatum. And, in the month we were together after Jessie left, I suggested we start sleeping together again."
"Still using it to keep him around," Shawna commented, then wanted to take it back.
However, Courtney said, "Exactly. Shawna, if you could have seen the look of disgust and revulsion in his face when I suggested it. I think that’s when I finally realized the jig was up, that I was fooling myself, and that I had dug myself a hole I was not getting out of.
"And I think that’s when my eyes opened. Look, I know what’s going on. Most of the people that come in contact with me can’t stand to be in the same room with me." Her voice dropped. "The only problem is, one of those people is me."
Shawna sat for a moment, then said, "I guessed, and told Evan, that you were carrying around a lot of anger, and that it was primarily directed at your mother. But that you took it out on everyone else because, up until very recently, you were dependent on your mother."
"That’s probably right," Courtney agreed. "But, also, up until recently, I trusted my mother."
"You didn’t know any different."
"Probably no
t." Then Courtney started to cry. "Damn, and she’s coming here? Oh, Lord, what am I going to do?"
She sat there crying. Shawna, watching this with dismay, made a decision. She moved over on the couch and took Courtney in her arms. Courtney’s cries got louder, and Shawna held her and let her cry it out. "Don’t worry, we’ll think of something," Shawna said. She stroked Courtney’s hair while she cried. Finally, Courtney stopped sobbing and whispered, "Thank you."
"You’re welcome," Shawna said. She expected Courtney to get up, out of her arms—but she didn’t. She stayed where she was. They were both half-reclined on the couch, leaning back into the arm, Shawna’s arm wrapped around Courtney, her other hand still stroking her hair. Courtney sighed contentedly.
What was going on here? Shawna thought to herself. Courtney knew she was gay, right? Shawna guessed Courtney was still thinking what Shawna had said earlier was true—that Courtney wasn’t Shawna’s type.
Problem is, it wasn’t true. Shawna was definitely attracted to needy girls. Once she had figured out that Courtney’s bitchiness was a shield, hiding away some very deep emotional needs, her whole perspective changed. And Courtney’s physical charms were undeniable.
And she seemed very comfortable lying there in Shawna’s arms.
So, Shawna bit the bullet. "Courtney?" she said quietly. "Have you ever been with a girl?"
"No," she whispered.
"Have you ever thought about it?"
"I don’t think so."
Shawna took the arm that had been wrapped around Courtney, and started sliding it up and down her arm. In doing this, she lightly grazed Courtney’s breast with her palm every time she slid her hand. Courtney shuddered at the contact.
"Are you thinking about it now?" Shawna asked quietly.
"Uhm…..uh….." Courtney’s brain was a sieve at this moment. She couldn’t say anything coherent if her life depended on it. But she knew she was enjoying being in Shawna’s arms. Shawna was being so nice to her! And her hand tracing up and down her arm—and skirting over her boob—felt wonderful.
