Edge of the Past

by Jennifer Comeaux

I led Sergei inside and clutched his hand harder as we sat on the end of the bed. “She didn’t change her mind,” I guessed quietly.

  “No.” He stared at the TV with a blank expression. “After they visit New York, they’re going to Russia and never coming back.”

  Another wave of guilt churned a bigger hole in my gut. I circled my arms around Sergei’s shoulders. “I’m so sorry.”

  “She said I’d have to fight her to get visitation. In Russian court, where I’m sure her father had connections she can use to her advantage.”

  I pressed my face to his sweater. I couldn’t look at him. All this agony was my fault.

  “I just can’t believe it,” Sergei said, wavering between anger and hurt. “I had the miracle of finding Liza, which I never dreamed could happen, and now I might never see her again. We were really starting to connect. I think she was starting to understand how much I love her and…“

  His voice broke and so did my heart. I held him tighter, and he muffled his cries against my hair. The anguish in his tears further splintered my soul, and my attempts to say, “I’m sorry” came out fractured and unintelligible. I started to pull back so I could speak more clearly, but Sergei locked his arms around me as he continued to shake with emotion. Feeling his despair, I fought my own tears. He shouldn’t have to go through this.

  We stayed in that spot, holding each other and not saying a word until Sergei slowly pulled away and rubbed his hand over his face.

  “I should let you get to sleep,” he said hoarsely. “I’m not doing a good job of preparing you for tomorrow.”

  “Don’t worry about me. You’re dealing with so much…“

  “I can’t let you and Chris down. I feel so helpless as far as Liza is concerned, but I can actually help you and Chris get through tomorrow.” Sergei kissed my forehead and swallowed me in an embrace. “I know it’s easier to say than to do, but promise me you’ll get some rest.”

  Why is he being so good to me? He must still be in shock. Soon he won’t be able to look at me without thinking how I ruined his chance to be a father to Liza.

  Sergei left, and I got ready for bed, but sleep evaded me again. My thoughts weren’t dominated by my usual pre-competition worries, though. Only thoughts of Liza and trains and Elena and regrets kept me staring at the dark ceiling. I’d been looking for signs that a life with Sergei was still my future, my destiny, but so many things had happened to make me believe otherwise.

  I pulled the blanket up to my chin and clamped my eyes shut. If I could just sleep, I wouldn’t have to face those thoughts. I wouldn’t have to face the growing reality that Sergei and I weren’t meant to be.

  ****

  Skating last at a competition was both a blessing and a nerve-wracking pain, and I felt more of the latter as Chris and I awaited our turn in the free skate. As the last pair, we wouldn’t have to worry about the judges “saving room” in the scores for other teams, but waiting all night to perform gave me more time to think. On a normal occasion that was bad news; on this night, with so many things besides skating on my mind, it was a surefire disaster.

  Sergei hovered nearby backstage, close enough to give an encouraging smile and snippets of instruction but far enough not to make me feel smothered. Our eyes connected, and he gave me one of those comforting smiles, but all I could think about was him crying over Liza. I’d never heard him break down like that, and it was one of the most gut-wrenching sounds I could imagine.

  I turned away from Sergei to watch Chris miming our choreography. He stopped and held up one hand for a high five. I complied, and he clasped our fingers together.

  “We’re strong enough to do this,” he said.

  I’d been telling myself that all day, but I was running on just caffeine from three cups of coffee, the only thing I could stomach. My strength would have to come from determination, and I didn’t know if I had enough to carry me through. The haze surrounding me had grown thicker and darker. I couldn’t see past it, and I was scared how numb I felt going into the most important performance of the season.

  Chris resumed acting out our program, and every so often he touched his shoulder, which wasn’t part of the choreography. I wondered if his arm hurt more than he’d told us. He was broken physically, and I was broken mentally. We were quite the pair.

  Sergei patted Chris’s back and smiled but didn’t say anything. He had to be worried about Chris’s fitness level, too. We hadn’t done a full run-through of our long program since before we went to Russia. Four minutes of jumping, throwing, and lifting were an eternity for someone not in top physical condition.

  Chris and I handed Sergei our team jackets and walked toward the ice just as the Canadian champions finished their program. The crowd exploded with applause, telling me Madeline and Damien had skated lights-out. They were the leaders after the short program, so we’d have to be perfect to beat them.

  Do I have it in me?

  I looked flawless on the outside – brand new elegant teal dress, impeccable makeup, and my hair in a tight bun. My appearance had gold medal written all over it. But on the inside, I couldn’t escape the guilt and the doubts that made me feel so far from perfect.

  The announcer bellowed Madeline and Damien’s scores as Chris and I circled the ice to keep our legs warm. 5.8’s and 5.9’s. There was room for us. Chris took my hand, and we skated over to Sergei at the boards for his final words. The crowd had calmed during our warm-up but was now in a full frenzy, so loud I had to lean toward Sergei to hear him speak.

  “Take this energy and use it.” He set his eyes first on Chris and then on me. “Live inside the program. Feel it. Breathe it. Own it.”

  I nodded sharply and maintained focus on Sergei’s face, seeking the comfort he always gave me, but again the memory of his tears bombarded me. I quickly shifted my gaze downward.

  Skating! A world championship! Staying on your feet! That’s what matters right now!

  Chris led me to center ice, and I made sure not to look at Sergei behind the boards. When the soft notes of “Clair de Lune” began, I visualized the bubble and squeezed Chris’s hand as my lifeline.

  We sailed through the triple twist, garnering a roar from the crowd, and then separated to prepare for the side-by-side triple Lutzes. Your body knows what to do. Let your body take over.

  Chris and I picked into the ice simultaneously, and I pulled my arms in tight to rotate. I opened up for the landing, and my blade made solid contact with the ice. Next to me, Chris held the same position – arms outstretched, free leg extended – the perfect jump exit.

  You got lucky. Can you do it again?

  Why was I being so negative? I reminded myself to think positively, but I didn’t have much time before the next two elements, the throw triple Lutz followed by the star lift. Chris grasped my hips and propelled me into the air, and three revolutions later, I landed clean again on one foot.

  This is going too well.

  I chided myself once more for being pessimistic as Chris pressed me up into the lift with ease. The audience’s cheers grew louder with each completed element, but they sounded muffled to me, as if I was disconnected from my surroundings.

  After we executed our spins and another lift, we transitioned into crossovers to set up for our second set of side-by-side jumps, the triple toe loop-double toe loop combination. I took a breath, and my lungs burned in response.

  No! It’s too soon to be tired. We’re only halfway done!

  I tried to dig my blades harder into the ice, but my legs felt rubbery. I couldn’t generate much speed. How was I going to get through the combination?

  I jabbed my toepick into the ice and knew I was off center the moment I went airborne. My crossed feet hit the ice, and I couldn’t untangle them. I crashed hard as Chris completed the second jump.

  Perfect is gone.

  Catching up to Chris, I attempted to inhale deeper, but the weight on my chest wouldn’t allow it. Another throw jump and our final lift lay ahead. I had to slow
my pace to get more air.

  Chris didn’t seem to mind the reduced speed as I heard him taking quick breaths beside me. He was losing steam, too.

  This is not good.

  We glided into the throw triple loop, and Chris muscled up to give me enough height. My right foot came down, and I struggled to hold myself steady on the landing, but my leg had no strength. Dread filled my veins right before I slipped down onto the ice.

  I rose to my feet and hurried to dry my hands on my skirt. Chris was waiting for me, and we needed to set up for the lasso lift. He grabbed both my hands and swung me up above his head, but his right arm started to bend under my weight. I gritted my teeth while searching for the core strength to stay upright.

  My vision was blurry, and my body wasn’t responding. I collapsed onto Chris’s shoulders and clung to him to keep from dropping onto the ice, but the damage had been done. An aborted lift on top of my two falls certified the program as a total catastrophe.

  When the music ended, I hunched over to let the blood rush to my head. Chris also bent at the waist. We slowly stood up at the same time and hugged as the crowd gave us a heartier ovation than we deserved.

  “I thought I had the lift,” Chris said.

  I looked at him with wide eyes. “Don’t even… you did everything you could. I should’ve held it.”

  We took our bows and skated over to Sergei, who embraced Chris first and rubbed his bad shoulder.

  “I’m so proud of you,” he said. “I know how hard that must’ve been.”

  Sergei turned to me but stayed quiet as he brought me into his arms. I thought he might chastise me for not fighting harder, but he was probably waiting until we went backstage.

  We sat in the kiss and cry, and I held my head in my hands. I couldn’t watch the scores. It was bad enough hearing them announced. The numbers were the lowest we’d received since our first competition as a new team. The announcer concluded the marks and stated, “They are in sixth place.”

  I dipped my head further and covered my face. We weren’t going to win a medal of any color. Olympic silver medalists. World medalists. Three time national champions. Buried in sixth place. Another huge bad sign.

  We shuffled backstage, and Sergei motioned us close to him. “You guys will come back from this. You WILL be world champions.”

  Chris nodded, looking too tired to reply. He walked toward the media, and Sergei moved in front of me, blocking me from the press.

  “You usually fight for those landings.” He didn’t speak with a stern or accusatory tone but a concerned one.

  “You’re not angry with me?”

  “I’ve put you through so much lately. I can’t be angry when I didn’t have you ready for this competition.”

  How had we reached this point? All we were doing was hurting each other. My actions had caused him devastation, and his problems had made me lose touch with my skating, something I never thought would happen. How much lower were we going to drag one another?

  “I need to catch up with Chris,” I whispered.

  Chris and I quickly talked our way through the interviews so we could change and meet our respective families outside. Mom and Dad hugged me, and I remained numb, not shedding any tears. I was akin to an emotional zombie. My parents offered to treat Sergei and me to drinks, but I didn’t feel like sitting in the bar where everyone would give me looks of pity.

  When we returned to the hotel, Sergei walked with me to my door, and I paused with my key in hand.

  “I’d kinda rather be alone right now,” I said.

  Sergei caressed my cheek. “I’m afraid if I leave you alone, you’re just going to beat yourself up about tonight.”

  He had no idea how much I’d been beating myself up over other things. My performance was just another item to add to the list.

  “Maybe I can finally sleep,” I said.

  “I can stay with you until you fall asleep.”

  I inched away from Sergei toward the door. “It’s okay. You don’t need to. I should really be alone.”

  I shoved the key in the card reader and turned the handle, and Sergei trailed me into the doorway. As I faced him, he leaned in and gave me a tender kiss, and for the first time that night, I wanted to cry.

  “Goodnight,” I mumbled, closing the door before the tears completely choked me.

  I stumbled forward and crumpled at the foot of the bed. Sobs racked my body and stole my breath. When my gasps subsided, I brought the back of my hand to my mouth and pressed my diamond ring to my lips, just as Sergei had done when he proposed. Tears came again, faster and harder, and I hugged my knees to my chest.

  There was only one way to fix the mess that our lives had become. I had to accept it. I just didn’t know if I could go through with it.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The next few days in D.C. felt like the longest of my life. The pairs event had ended, but the ice dance competition had just begun, so I stayed to support Aubrey and her partner Nick. With so many people around, it wasn’t the time or place to talk to Sergei about our future. I decided to wait until we returned home, which gave me an agonizing four days to think about the conversation and the choice I was making.

  We flew home on Sunday evening, and Sergei went to his apartment to unpack and repack. He was leaving the next day to teach a pairs camp in Chicago, so I had a small window of time to talk to him. I paced up and down in my bedroom, visualizing what I’d say as if it was one of my programs. The difference was my programs didn’t make me feel as if I was dying inside.

  I stopped pacing and sat on the bed, facing my open closet. On the end of the rack hung the white garment bag containing my wedding dress. So many times I’d imagined walking down the aisle toward Sergei’s beaming smile. He’d take my hand, and I’d see in his eyes how much he loved me. Neither of us would have to say a word, and the moment would be perfect.

  Tears seeped into my throat, and I jumped up and shut the closet door, pressing my forehead against it. You have to do this.

  Before I could change my mind, I grabbed my purse and car keys and jogged downstairs to Aubrey’s room. She stood in the middle of multiple suitcases and mounds of clothes, preparing for a Hawaiian vacation with her parents.

  “I’m going to Sergei’s,” I said, barely stopping as I passed the room.

  I made the five-minute drive to Sergei’s apartment but didn’t leave my car. I sat in the parking lot, staring at the smattering of lights in the harbor across the street. Sergei and I had spent countless evenings strolling along the dock and dreaming of our future – the waterfront house we’d eventually buy, the children we’d raise, the coaching dynasty we’d become together.

  None of our plans would happen now.

  About to succumb to overwhelming emotion, I bolted from the car and took deep breaths as I climbed the stairs to the second floor walkway. Outside Sergei’s door, I raised my hand three times to knock before finally following through.

  Sergei answered and opened the door wide. “I was getting ready to call you to see if I should pick something up for dinner.”

  I drifted into the small living room and stopped beside the coffee table. A picture I’d taken of Sergei helping Liza at the rink lay next to a stack of paperbacks. I picked up the photo and looked at their happy faces.

  Quickly setting it down, I said, “We have to talk.”

  Sergei approached me, and I slid backward to put more space between us. “What’s wrong?”

  I brought my eyes to his and parted my lips to speak, but my voice vanished. Sergei came closer and peered down at me. “What is it?”

  I touched my engagement ring and inched it toward my knuckle. My pulse raced, and my hands shook. If I didn’t say what I had to say soon, I was going to crumble into a heap.

  “I can’t let you lose Liza,” I said. “She needs you, and you need her. I believe there’s a reason you found her, and it wasn’t to have just three weeks together.”

  “Have you thought of a way to
get Elena to change her mind?” Sergei asked.

  I bit hard on my lip, but my chin was trembling too much to hold steady. Tears pooled in my eyes, and I looked down at the carpet, fighting the devastating ache in my chest. With a swift tug, I pulled the ring from my finger and swallowed the cries that needed to escape.

  “Em, what are you…” Sergei asked in shock.

  I held the ring out to him. “It’s the only way to fix this.”

  “No.” Sergei cradled my face in his hands. “You’re talking crazy. This isn’t the answer.”

  I took one of his hands and tried to put the ring into his palm. He jerked away and set his jaw. “I’m not taking it. You’re not thinking clearly.”

  “You have to take it. You have to let me do this.” My voice cracked with tears. “I can’t be the reason you lose your daughter.”

  “You’re not! Elena made that decision.”

  “But if I wasn’t in the picture, you’d be able to see Liza.”

  “I want you in the picture! We can fight Elena. There are other ways–”

  “She’s going to make it impossible for you to win. You could be fighting for years.”

  “So it’ll be hard,” Sergei said. “We can get through it together.”

  “It’s not just…” I swiped at my cheeks. “Too many things have happened. There’ve been too many signs telling me this is the right thing to do.”

  Sergei’s brow wrinkled into a sharp V. “What signs?”

  My head hurt from crying, and I couldn’t think. I pressed my hand to my forehead. “I don’t know. Elena coming back into your life, the way I skated at Worlds…”

  “I don’t want Elena,” Sergei said firmly. “And Worlds wasn’t a sign. It was just a tough competition.”

  “No, it was more than that. I was so out of it. I didn’t feel anything on the ice, and it was because of what was going on with us. Our relationship has always given me strength, but now… everything is so screwed up.”

  “Then let’s talk about it and figure out how to make it better.” Sergei reached for my shoulders, and I scooted away from him.