by Sara Shirley
Emily called my mom? Of all the people to call her, Emily would have been the last person I would have suspected. “Not to sound mean, Mom, but why did she call you?”
“Jeremy, you’re a smart man, but when it comes to women, you have absolutely no idea how we operate, do you? Emily called Courtney’s phone and asked for the house number. When I got home a little while ago, she called from Denver. She said she didn’t know who else to call, and she couldn’t talk to her own mother about this, so she hoped I’d be able to offer her some guidance. After she told me everything, I was a little disappointed, but I’ll never judge what you choose to do in your life.”
I suddenly feel as though I’ve lost all control over my emotions, and hot tears trickle down my face. “How do I fix this, Mom? I love her, and she won’t even talk to me. I can’t lose her again, and I feel as though I already have.” Not knowing what the next three weeks will bring us, I’m not sure how I will focus on hockey and not her.
“If you love her like I know you do, you’ll know that a woman’s heart is a fragile thing. Your father didn’t win my heart overnight. He’s mended it plenty of times over the last thirty years, and he’ll tell you love isn’t easy. Do you remember what I taught you kids about what to do if you break something?”
“Own up to it, fix it, and do everything we can to make sure it never happens again.”
“She’ll come around, but you have to allow her time to take it all in. She’s never been in a relationship before. Everything is new for her, and she doesn’t know how to cope with the emotions she experienced yesterday, and Jeremy, you can thank me later.”
“Thank you for what, Mom?”
“For getting Emily to agree to attend the annual Jeremy Page Halloween-Birthday Bash.”
She didn’t. She couldn’t. She insists on having this even now. One of the drawbacks of being born on Halloween is my mom always has a reason to invite people over for a costume party. “Mom, what did you do?”
“All I did was have a long talk with your girlfriend to assure her what she was feeling was completely normal. Once she gets back, I told her I’d be here to talk whenever she needed me. Trust me. She’ll come around, just concentrate on hockey for now. She’ll call if she wants to. If not, you’ll see her on your birthday. Love you, Jeremy.”
“Love you too, Mom, and thanks for talking to Emily. I’ll fix this when I get home. Tell everyone I said hi. Bye.”
I feel at ease after talking to Mom. At least I know my relationship with Emily isn’t a complete loss at the moment. If Mom thinks it’s best if I allow Emily time to figure out everything, then I’ll give her the space. I won’t like it, but I’ll do it. The first thing in making things right will require me to find the team doctor. Grabbing a T-shirt and my sneakers, I make my way to his room at the end of the long hall. As I knock on the door, the team physician opens it to see me standing there.
“Jeremy? What can I do for you?” he asks.
“I need to get some tests run. Can you help?”
I spent much of yesterday afternoon unpacking at the loft in downtown Denver. My mother took off shortly after we arrived, and I haven’t seen her since. That’s fine with me. I needed the time alone in order to call Jeremy’s mother, Grace. When I talked to Courtney earlier, she didn’t let on that she knew what had happened yesterday, but something in her tone told me she had an idea.
When I finally reached Grace, she assured me everything I had been feeling was normal. She suggested I use my time away from Jeremy to think about what I wanted for myself before thinking of him. She knew he’d been relentlessly trying to reach me, and she said his actions with Avery were inexcusable last season, but he’s a man after all, and I need to learn how to control my emotions if I’m ever going to handle a relationship with a guy like him.
I took everything she said to heart. I was glad she decided to talk to me and help me understand what I was going through. My own mother would never have even given me the time of day, let alone advice.
Today, I’m sitting at a high top table, enjoying my morning coffee along the 16th Street Mall in downtown. My coaches are scheduled to arrive later today for an afternoon practice at the Pepsi Center. For now, I’m just trying to sort through some emails and social media updates I’ve missed over the past few weeks. My earbuds pump music through my head, keeping my thoughts focused on the task at hand and not on Jeremy. Although, listening to Adele’s 21 album may not be in my best interest. Realizing I still need to call Sue back, I begin dialing her number when a text message shows on my screen.
I talked to my mom and I’m giving you time to think, as hard as that might be. I just wanted to say good luck in your competitions and don’t forget to think about your Halloween costume. Love U-J
Placing my coffee down onto the table, my concentration shifts to the trolleys traveling up and down the street. I know I should text Jeremy back, but Grace was adamant about allowing myself the time to see if after a few weeks I still felt the same way I did two days ago. I’m more confused now than I was then because I’m scared of losing him more than anything.
I call Sue to see what she needed me for, but I’m sent straight to voicemail. That’s odd. She must have a dance class or something this morning. Her voicemail picks up, and as I’m telling her I’ll try to call her back later after my practice, a headline from the Denver Post catches my eye on my tablet. It reads “Figure Skating Sweetheart Emily Cameron: Quest for Olympic Gold.” Well, I know where my mother has been since we arrived. She couldn’t resist making me front page news, adding to my already shitty week. Well, guess what, Mother? Emily Beth Cameron has arrived, and she’s done taking shit!
Packing up my shoulder bag, I make my way back to the loft as fast as my UGGs will let me. Ten minutes later, I’m grabbing my skate bag and security pass and riding the elevator down to the street. Alicia Keys is fueling my fire over the speakers. I glance up at the surrounding mirrors and see a new Emily staring back at me. My mother wants a “Quest for Gold.” She’ll fucking get one!
As I hail a cab outside the building, I tell the driver to take me to the Pepsi Center. Pulling out my phone, I shoot Courtney a quick text.
Tell your mom I said thank you for the advice. It’s already being put to good use. I’ll be in touch.
Then, as my fingers hover over the screen, I see Jeremy’s last text again. I really have to try figuring out things on my own, but I still feel a pang of guilt for how I left things. Before I know it, my fingers are sliding over the screen as I hit Reply.
Thank you for the support. I’ve been thinking about “us” too. I’ll talk to you when I get home. <3 U - E
I manage to run about four miles before my scheduled practice with the other top five skaters. Once my coaches arrive, Mother conveniently shows up, wearing her fur coat and Chanel sunglasses to stand watch along the sidelines. Warming up, I skate about four very quick weaved laps around the ice, deliberately making eye contact with her every time I pass.
I hear my name called to the officials’ booth, and I know what’s coming. Official entry information, music selection, and drug testing. Jeremy crosses my mind. Get your head in the game, Cameron! Worry about him later. Well, that is unless the test is positive, but until then, focus on sticking it to that conniving witch sitting about fifty feet away right now.
Taking the urine cup to the ladies’ room while being escorted by an official is always a pleasure. We’re figure skaters. Do they really think we want to test positive on a piss test? I know there’s a ton of money involved in these competitions, but test positive once, and your career is done. I’m just hoping that my test doesn’t come back with anything questionable this time either. I have sex with one guy, and I have to deal with this impending question. I finish producing my sample and hand it to the official as I exit the bathroom and make my way back onto the ice.
Everyone has one final run through on their short programs, and when my name is called, I make my way toward center ice an
d wait for the drums to echo through the arena and Florence’s haunting “Oh oh oh oh” to filter through the speakers. Digging my blade in underneath me, I skate with a vengeance. Every arm thrust matches every drumbeat. Every string section my body is tucked tight in a varying degree of spins. Turning, crossing over back toward my next jump sequence, I pass Mother as she watches every movement. I know she’s calculating every point, each deduction. Glaring at her as I pass, anger fuels my desire to bury her once and for all. Setting up for one last triple and landing it perfectly, I skate into my final move, a flying camel into a back sit spin and ending with an abrupt stop from my backward tucked scratch spin.
I’m breathing heavily as my breath fogs the air in front of me. I’m satisfied with my practice skate and so are my coaches, who don’t say anything other than simple suggestions for cleaning up a couple edges.
Suzy calls me over. “Everything okay out there? You don’t seem to be acting your normal self today. That skate had an edge behind it that I haven’t seen from you before.”
Staring back at my mother, who is currently on her phone talking, I tell Suzy, “Consider this my season of vengeance.”
Days pass, and I’ve heard nothing from Emily. I didn’t think I would, but after I sent her my text on Tuesday, I thought I’d get something. I watched her perform her short program from Thursday night on my tablet. It’s funny. Other than that one time when I first saw her at the rink when I was thirteen, that was the only other time I’ve watched her skate. The video feed wasn’t exactly the clearest, but she was absolutely gorgeous, wearing an all black skating dress with shimmering feathers and a fitted high neck. I knew the song she skated to was from a movie, and I saw the fire in her eyes as she sat in what they called the “kiss and cry” area. She was breathing heavily as she stared up at the scores. She skated perfectly from what I could tell, but she would know better than me. Then, her scores appeared on the screen. Overall total points, 72.30, placing her in first place going into Saturday’s long program. That’s my girl.
After another lengthy bus ride and an early morning flight, we’re now pulling into St. Johns, Newfoundland. Welcome to Canada. Border crossing is always a treat. With so much gear and so many people on the buses, it takes forever to get up here. Fortunately, this is the only team we play against that’s located in Canada, and we’ll spend an entire weekend here. So far, this season has been going well. The team is really progressing nicely, and it will only be a matter of time before things begin to shake up. When the LA Kings start their regular season, it becomes a constant to have players from the Monarchs called up to fill in. Since I started with the Monarchs a couple of seasons ago, it’s been mostly offensive players and goalies that are called up. As a defense player, there hasn’t been much interest in us unless one of the Kings players is out for an extended period of time. Hopefully, one day that call will finally come in for me. To finally skate on NHL ice, even if it’s for a short period of time before I’m sent back home.
After bringing my hoodie up over my head as I exit the bus when we arrive at the hotel, I put my iPod into my pocket as “Wait for Me” fills my ears and snowflakes stick to my sweatshirt. With a new season creeping in, I can only assume this is my fresh start. A fresh start to what, though? I can’t right the wrongs of my past. I can’t go back to high school and change the fact that I never went after Emily when I needed to. Possibly all these things happened for a reason. We might never be the people we are now had the years we weren’t together happened. What’s that phrase? Distance makes the heart grow fonder. When I think about our first kiss a month ago and how far we’ve come since then and now our time apart, I wonder if Emily is feeling the same way. It’s only been a week and already it feels like it’s been a month.
I push my hoodie off my head as I make my way into the hotel room, glancing at the clock to see that it’s a little after midnight. It’s too late to call home, but I send Josh and Courtney a text that I arrived at the next destination and to tell Mom and Dad I’ll call them after the next game. I may be an adult, but I’ve never stopped letting my family know where I am. My dad has continued to play an integral part in my hockey career, and I love getting his input after he reads or hears about my games. They are all my biggest fans, and I love them to death. I know; I’m a big sap.
I send Dave a text as well because I haven’t been in touch with him since last Sunday. Once hockey season starts, the Forum gets busy for him, and my schedule is just as hectic.
Just checkin’ in. How’s everything at home? Anything new goin’ on?
As I grab my shower bag and sweats from my suitcase to take a shower, my phone alerts me of a new text.
Dude, wish you were here. @ Promiscuous and some girl called Mystic just gave the world’s best lap dance. Like jizz in my pants good.
I chuckle at the thought because leave it to Dave to compare a lap dance to bursting a nut. Shooting him a response to let him know I’ll take his word for it, I don’t want to tell him I’m really not in any shape to be heading to the club after seeing how things went down with Avery. I can’t even imagine how Emily would handle knowing about my nights with Dave at Promiscuous. The things that happen in their VIP booths stay in the VIP booths, not that I did anything incriminating in there. Let’s just say that on one of my more recent birthday celebrations, Dave might have been willing to spend the extra money to have two girls provide more visuals than normally required. Just sayin’. I never said I was a saint; I just wasn’t an asshole.
Taking gold at Skate America seemed almost unreal, and yet, here I am on my way to the next Grand Prix event in Vancouver, BC. Scoring a combined total of 212.02 overall, set me up to be a front-runner for Skate Canada. As long as I place in the top six of each of the events in which I’m scheduled to compete, I’ll be in good standing for the US Nationals in January.
Suzy asked me during a practice session before my long program what I wanted to do after this season ended. She swore no matter what I told her she wouldn’t tell a soul. Well, I sure as hell hope not. You don’t get paid nearly fifty thousand a year to tell everyone my business. Giving her the benefit of the doubt, I explained that after this season was over, so was I. I needed time to get away and just learn to be me. I had to find a way out before it killed me all together. I didn’t know what I’d do or where I’d go, but it was going to happen, and I knew it would be the beginning of the end between my parents and me.
How was I planning to inform them of my plans? My parents might be the most manipulative and uncaring people I know, but they are smart and not in a good way. I’d need to beat them at their own game. A chess game seems easy compared to this challenge, and I know nothing about chess.
Then, of course, there is my unresolved relationship with Jeremy. It’s been two weeks since I’ve spoken to him. Just before we left Denver, I talked with Courtney. Grace told me to try to not have any contact with him while I was away, but she never said I couldn’t talk to Courtney. Courtney confessed she had overheard her father and Jeremy talking in the kitchen the night he dropped me off. She had mentioned he’d sent her a few text messages, but she only knew that he spoke to her parents and was still upset over the way we left things. She didn’t have any information on how he was other than the Monarchs had won all the games they had played so far, and Jeremy had scored three goals and was in a fight that required him to get a few stitches on his eyebrow during one game. Before hanging up, I asked if she had talked to Sue since she hadn’t called me back, even after my voicemail. Apparently, she’s avoiding everyone, because even Courtney said she’s only talked to her a couple of times in two weeks, and for Sue, that’s abnormal. There’s something going on there, and we both said it couldn’t have anything to do with the fact that she’s dating Dave now. They’ve been friends for years, so this has to be completely out of the ordinary. Courtney said she’d try to get to the bottom of it while I focus on my competitions.
I wanted to ask her so many times to relay a message
to Jeremy if she talked to him, but I not only needed to prove to Grace I could listen to her advice, but also myself. I need to prove to myself I have the strength within my body to do it. Each day I wake up, I’m one day closer to reaching my goal, not anyone else’s goals. Mine. When I make it back to Boston in another week, I can say I did it. I can win gold and handle my relationship situation on my own. That’s all me and nobody else had their hands in there helping.
Our flight from Denver to Vancouver is uneventful, thank goodness. I find myself finishing another book on my e-reader that sounded interesting. This one involves a small Southern island girl who meets a famous actor who’s hiding out from the media; a relationship forms between them, and she experiences her first love, but his past catches up with him and things begin to unravel. Something tells me I can relate to this girl on so many levels.
Stepping outside of the airport I discover that October in the Pacific Northwest is extremely raw and rainy. The limo driver takes us on the short drive to the Fairmont Hotel Vancouver. Since we don’t have any relatives living in this city, we are forced to stay in a hotel for almost a week. At least my mother has decided to give me my own suite. I can’t handle having her in the same room with me for that long. A long lunch with her can be difficult; a week is pushing the limits of my sanity.
As the limo pulls up in front of the hotel, I notice some commotion outside. Evidently, it’s the paparazzi since cameras are perched on tripods and flashbulbs are going off every few seconds. They can’t be here for me, unless my mother is responsible for this nonsense, and if she is, I will most likely throw a tantrum right here on the sidewalk. The driver comes over to open the door for us, and I step out. As I wait for my small bag from the trunk, cameras start going off even more and people yell louder. I pull my earbuds from my ears as “Black Sheep” by Gin Wigmore can no longer be heard over the screaming. Looking up, I can’t see anything but spots when I shut my eyes. I hear peoples shouting something, but it’s definitely not my name. Turning quickly to avoid more blinding, I run right into a tall, muscular man in a suit, knocking my shoulder bag to the ground and spilling out some of the contents.
