by Frank Downey
"Are you going to?" Warren grinned.
"Yeah. I think he’s gearing up for a proposal—but, for now, he wants me to move in. I’m thrilled."
"Excellent. Are you skating something special?"
"Yes. Wind Beneath My Wings. It’s a cliché, I know, but it really is true. Except for my parents, David was my biggest booster. He was so proud of his skating little sister, you have no idea. He got me through some of the tough moments when we were younger. It just seemed like an appropriate song. And Janet and the kids are going to be here, plus half of the fire department."
"Good," Warren said, not revealing their own plans.
Even with Warren and Sophie’s success, ice dancing, in the USA, was still the runt of the litter as far as figure skating went. So, while there were 7 or 8 singles skaters at the American Pro-Am, and 6 pairs teams, there were only 4 dance teams. Besides the Kellehers, the other eligible team was Brenneman and Watts, the British couple. From the professional ranks came Nicholas and Coleman, and Bradochkina and Zhargov.
Warren and Sophia hadn’t seen Olga Bradochkina in some time, and were glad to see her again. "Darlings," she said as she saw them, "how are you?"
"Not bad, Olga, and yourself?" Warren asked.
"Marvelous. How is knee, all better?"
"All better."
"Good. I expect gold medal this year!"
"That’s what we’re shooting for!"
Warren and Sophia enjoyed meeting up with their old friends, and getting back on the ice.
They did the rhythmic program they had planned, the Beach Boys medley of Catch A Wave and Fun Fun Fun. It was fun and difficult, and it went over well, and they ended that part of the competition in first place.
The interpretive program was where they did their tribute to their friend’s brother. Christine, who’d skate her interpretive program later in the night, was in the stands watching.
They came out in all black. And they had picked an appropriate piece of music. Despite Warren’s joking about "going to the Springsteen well again," it really was the only choice—Springsteen’s impassioned Into The Fire. Written about the terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center, it still worked as a tribute to all firefighters and rescue workers.
Warren and Sophie’s program was understated, but still intense. It was also very beautiful and evocative. They’d done a remarkable job on it in a couple of short weeks.
When they were done, they received a standing ovation. Plus a hug in the kiss-and-cry from a very emotional Christine.
They didn’t even think of winning. There was no time limit on an interpretive program in a pro-am, but there was a minimum: three and a half minutes. Into The Fire was slightly over five, it was slow-building, and they didn’t even touch until over a minute into the program. Despite all that, they won.
Being interviewed afterwards, they commented that it was an emotional program meant as a tribute. "We didn’t even try to win, that wasn’t the point." Warren said.
"Well, you must be glad of the victory anyway," the interviewer said.
"Yes, but only because of the prize money. And only because we’re not keeping it," Sophia told the interviewer, plus the TV audience.
"David Arsenault left three small children," Warren continued. "There is a scholarship fund set up for them. For information, contact the Colorado Springs Fire Department, they have all the information. Our first-place check for this competition will be signed over to that scholarship fund."
After the competition was over—and Christine had won the ladies’, leading Liz Cushman to remark that she’d never been happier to lose in her life—Warren and Sophia went to the competitor’s party. There, they were able to meet Janet, David’s widow, and the three children. Janet hadn’t heard what they had said, and was flabbergasted to be handed the check. "And we put out an appeal when we were interviewed, so hopefully there will be more," Sophia told her.
"I can’t believe this," Janet said.
Christine was sniffly. "You know, they always say, when the chips are down, you find out who your friends are."
"Always," Warren smiled at her.
Chapter 159 - The Talk
Warren and Sophia went to the two shows they were doing, the Elvis one and the Beatles one, in the weeks after the pro-am in Denver. They skated well and had a blast.
Then it was time for the other pro-am, the Canadian one, in Hamilton, Ontario. There was a bigger field of dancers for this one. Besides Warren and Sophie and Bradochkina and Zhargov, the Canadian pair, Damphier and Gaudler, would be competing. The former French champions, Borisina and Dravouche, would be there. A young Canadian couple were also competing. And, lastly, the two new American pairs—Courtney and Evan, and Ryan and Amy—would be making their debuts at this competition.
Ryan and Amy flew from Boston to Ontario with Warren and Sophia. Jessie and Eric also came for the ride, as did all kinds of parents—and Betsy.
Warren was sitting behind Ryan in the plane, and leaned over to him. "Hey, you know that you’re going to run into Courtney, right?"
"No doubt," Ryan said.
"How are you going to handle that?"
Ryan sighed. "That’s a good question. I would’ve said I was just going to ignore her. But that phone call threw me." He had told Warren and Sophie about that brief phone call he’d gotten from Courtney. "I mean, that didn’t sound like her at all."
"I know. I haven’t talked to her, but I’ve talked to Evan," Warren told him. "He says she’s like a different person."
"Yeah. Well, we’ll have to see what happens," Ryan said.
They got into Hamilton and practiced, but nobody saw Courtney—because they trained so close, in Detroit, they were just driving in for the competition. So, it wasn’t until the night of the technical program that Courtney and Ryan ran into each other.
"Hi," Courtney called out, happily but a bit shyly, when she saw Ryan.
"Hi, Court. How are you doing?"
"Fine. I hear congratulations are in order."
"Yeah."
"Now, are the rumors true?" Courtney said with a little giggle.
"That this was a shotgun wedding, you mean? Yeah," Ryan laughed. "But that’s OK, we were going to anyway, at least in my mind. We would’ve just taken more time about it."
"That’s good. You’ll make an excellent Daddy." She stopped and bit her lower lip. "Ryan, could you do me a favor?"
"What?"
"Watch our interpretive program? Please? I choreographed it. I needed to do it, and Evan went along with me. Thanks." Before Ryan could reply, Courtney took off down the hall.
They all skated their technical program that night. Ryan and Amy’s program to Living La Vida Loca went over very well. Evan and Courtney skated to Sunrise, by Simply Red. It was funky and sultry, and was well-received. Warren and Sophie brought the house down with their Beach Boys medley.
Warren and Sophie were in the lead, with only the Canadians, Damphier and Gaudler, anywhere close. But the new American teams were third and fourth, with Ryan and Amy in third, beating some of the more seasoned pro teams.
The night of the interpretive free program, Ryan and Amy skated first, doing a very unusual and difficult program to an interesting music choice, Oasis’s Wonderwall. A few other couples went, then Evan and Courtney.
Ryan decided to watch—and then understood why Courtney wanted him to. The music they skated to was Sarah McLachlan’s Fallen, a gorgeous piece of music with lyrics that were laced with bitter self-recrimination. The dance that Courtney had choreographed was restrained and understated, and quite beautiful. And Ryan acknowledged this performance to be exactly what Courtney intended it to be—an act of contrition.
After all was said and done—Sophia and Warren won, with their Lisa Lynne/Enya program, and Courtney and Evan beat Ryan and Amy for third—Courtney stopped Ryan back stage. "Can we talk?"
"If you want," Ryan said.
They went to the coffee shop in the hotel. They settled at a co
rner table with some coffee. "Thanks for agreeing to talk," Courtney said.
"I have to say, the phone call threw me," Ryan told her. "Without that, I might not have agreed to this. But I confess to a degree of curiosity."
Courtney sighed. "Think of it this way. Think of being stuck in a maze. And you try, and you try, and you try, but you can’t get out. Then, somehow, by some miracle, you get out—and you don’t even quite know how you did it. But, once you’re out, when you look back on the maze, it’s so ridiculously simple that you kick yourself for not finding the exit earlier."
"Was I your maze, our partnership?"
"No," Courtney said, and took a deep breath. "Why do you think I seduced you the first time, and kept seducing you?"
"To control me," Ryan said with a wry grin.
"Well, yes. But, think about it. Christ, Ryan, I was thirteen—do you think I came up with that one all by myself?"
Light dawned. "Your mother told you to go to bed with me?" Ryan gasped.
"Yes. ‘You don’t keep a man around unless you spread your legs.’ And that’s a quote. We can start there and go on—but I really didn’t see how badly my mother warped me until I got away from her." She took a breath. "This isn’t an excuse, mind you, it’s a reason. There’s no excuse for the way I treated you. And for that I’m truly sorry."
Ryan took a breath. "I’m still trying to wrap my brain around the fact that your mother told you to sleep with me when you were thirteen."
"That’s Mom for you. But it didn’t help things between us, either. You know, it might have been easier if you were brutal."
"Excuse me?" Ryan said.
"I went to bed with you thinking it was a duty. I was a sperm receptacle. And you were so damn gentle. It fucked me up. Not your fault, of course. But I think that’s why I was the way I was with you. You wanted me to enjoy it, and I was incapable of that at that time." She took a breath. "Jesus, the first time, I actually came. That made my brain explode. I was waiting to be used, and you didn’t use me."
"Jesus, Courtney, I was in love with you!" Ryan blurted.
"WHAT?"
"At first. When it first started. When we first started skating together, and when we first started sleeping together. I thought you were a goddess. My disgust with you—and I’m sorry, but that’s what it turned into—didn’t come until much later. And don’t forget, I was only sixteen myself. I barely knew what was going on. And then you offered yourself to me. I thought it was a dream come true. I thought you felt the same way about me that I did about you. It took me a while to figure out what was going on."
"Oh, Jesus," Courtney hissed, "and I thought you were using me as a convenient place to dip your wick."
"I was, after a while. Well, honestly, it was more inertia. It was easier to sleep with you than fight about it. But, yeah, it was a place to dip my wick, as you put it. But that was later. It wasn’t like that at first."
"I really fucked things up," Courtney sighed.
"As long as you figure things out," Ryan told her. "Are things better?"
"A lot better. Evan and I are actually working out, more than I’d ever thought possible." She laughed. "It didn’t start out that way. He thought he had to break me, not realizing I was already broken. But he eased up in a hurry. You know Evan—he’s strong-willed and controlled and focused. But he’s good to work with." She took a breath. "I’m also in a relationship. In fact, I think I’m falling in love."
"Great," Ryan said sincerely. "I’m happy for you. Who’s the lucky guy?"
"Well, that’s the thing. There’s no guy. It’s Shawna."
Ryan practically choked on his coffee. "Excuse me?"
"You know, Shawna? Evan’s ex-partner? We’ve become lovers."
"Oh, Jesus," Ryan said, "our relationship was so disastrous you’ve given up on men?"
Courtney cracked up laughing. "No, not hardly. This just happened, one day. I was crying in her arms because my Mother was threatening to move to Detroit. She actually tried that, by the way, a little later—once she found out I was sleeping with a girl she gave up," Courtney giggled. "Anyhow, I was crying in her arms, and one thing led to another. And I’m very happy with it, I like it a lot, and I’m falling in love with Shawna. But I’m not turned off on guys. I suppose I’m bi. If things fell apart between Shawna and I, I’d be open to either. But, right now, I sleep with another woman."
"This is just about the last thing I ever expected. As long as you’re happy."
"I really am. With everything. Shawna loves me, Evan and I have become friends, and my mother’s not around." She took a deep breath. "The only thing missing is you. I’d like us to be friends. I’d like to know that that’s possible."
"It’s possible, of course, Court," Ryan smiled. "We went through a lot together. And I think I understand more now."
"As do I," Courtney agreed. "Are you happy?"
"Very. I love Jess, and I’m very excited for the baby."
"Good. Please apologize to Jess for me for the way I treated her, OK? And I’ll tell her that in person if she’ll allow me to do so without ripping my head off."
"I’ll pass that along," Ryan laughed.
Courtney grinned at him. "So, Jess isn’t threatened by you skating with that little firecracker, is she?"
Ryan laughed. "No. Amy’s only sixteen, I’d feel like I were robbing the cradle. Besides which, I really do love Jess. Besides which again, Amy’s dating Sophia’s little brother Eric. And boy is he pussywhipped!"
Courtney cracked up. "Oh, really?"
"Oh, you should see it. But it works both ways. Amy’s had some hard knocks romantically, and Eric is true and steadfast and trustworthy. And Eric’s a bit withdrawn, so Amy takes the initiative. And they really do love each other. They complement each other well. And Amy’s thrilled to baby-sit after Jess has the baby."
"You old married fart, you," Courtney teased. "I have to tell you, though, that Amy. She’s young, but she can skate. Lots of charisma."
"It’s worked out well."
"Good. You do realize, I hope, that after the Kellehers win their gold medal in February and get the hell out of Dodge, you and I are going to be chasing each other for the next four years."
"Nationally, for sure. Internationally, it’s possible. Don’t tell Shawna, but you and Evan are better than the two of them were."
Courtney laughed. "And you and Amy are better than you and I were, I could see that already. But I think baggage had a lot to do with that. Anyway, I just don’t want this to be ugly."
"It won’t. The ugliness is over." Ryan took a breath. "I always knew that you were a good person underneath, Court. I’m glad someone pulled that out, even if it wasn’t me."
"Wasn’t your fault. If we had left my mother years ago, it might have worked out. Water under the bridge, Ryan. As long as we’re both happy and we can be friends."
"We can," Ryan said.
"Oh, and I have something else to thank you about. Remember, a few years ago, when you insisted on getting an agent instead of letting my mother deal with our management? Thank you, thank you, thank you."
"Are you still with Don?" Don Granger had been he and Courtney’s agent.
"Yes. And, as it turns out, my mother stole from me. And she could’ve stolen a lot more except Don was watching my back. This all came out when I finally left her. Don really couldn’t say anything before I was 18, because he was technically working for her. But I’ve talked to him, and she was worse than I even realized. Luckily, Don watched my back as much as he could, so she didn’t get much. And now she doesn’t get anything."
"That mother of yours is a piece of work."
"True story, but she can’t get me anymore. I still have a lot of anger to work through, but at least now I know where it belongs—pointed at her, not other people. I’ve started to see a therapist."
"Not a bad idea, all things considering."
They had finished their coffee. "Anyhow," Courtney said, "I’d better get going,
Shawna’s waiting for me."
"OK." They got up and left the coffee shop. Shawna was in a seat across the lobby.
"There she is," Courtney said.
"Well, then, I’ll see you at Skate America. Listen, Court? You need anything, anything at all, you have my number, OK?"
"Thanks, Ryan, that means a lot. And same goes. You take care of that wife and unborn kid, you hear me?"
"Count on it," Ryan smiled. They looked at each other for a moment, then Ryan unfolded his arms. Courtney stepped into them, and they wrapped each other in a deep hug. After a minute, Courtney stepped away, smiling.
"Thanks. For everything."
"You’re welcome. Court? Be happy."
"I will. You too." She turned away, and went over to Shawna. They walked out of the hotel holding hands. Ryan watched them go, then stepped into the elevator.
Chapter 160 - The Grand Prix
Author’s note: the credit for the ‘dessert’ one-liner goes to my lovely wife, Aphrodite
* * *
At the end of October, a week and a half after the Canadian Open pro-am, the real skating season started for the eligible skaters, the Grand Prix.
It started with Skate America, which would be held in Lake Placid this year.
All three American dance teams had been invited, and relations between all of them were very good. Since Courtney and Ryan had buried the hatchet, they all got along well. Amy was a little intimidated at first—you know, worrying if Ryan would want his old partner back—but Ryan assured her that that wasn’t going to happen. After that, Amy loosened up and was her charming self.
The night before the competition, all the American contingent took over a big chunk of a steakhouse in Lake Placid for supper. All the dancers were there, plus Eric, Jessie, and Shawna. Allison Bowman was competing (Liz Cushman wasn’t, she’d decided to do Skate Canada and Cup of Russia) so she was there, along with her boyfriend Eddie who had driven up from Albany to watch her skate. Brett and Andrea were there. As was Tom Bellamy.
