Life on the Edge

by Jennifer Comeaux

  I connected with the belief in his eyes and grasped Chris’s hand with purpose. My anxiousness was rooted more in anticipation than fear. I wanted to show everyone we were indeed the next great champions.

  Chris and I were the last skaters of the night, so the crowd’s energy had built to a frenzied level. Above the cheers, I could barely hear our names announced. Skating to center ice, we faced one another and each placed one knee on the smooth, cold surface. I didn’t even feel the burn of the ice as I focused on Chris’s warm hands around mine.

  The romantic strains of “Meditation” began, and the violin notes flowed through me. Using the ballet lessons we took as part of our off-ice training, we stretched every muscle down to our fingertips and created elegant lines to express the feeling of the music.

  The calming tempo of the classical piece allowed me to relax and let my muscle memory take over. When I did my jumps, I felt like I was floating on air. After each key element, Chris gave me a slight nod, and I sensed my smile growing bigger with every tip of his head.

  As we advanced further into the program, we gained speed rather than lost it. Going into our second throw jump, the triple loop, the audience was a blur as we raced past the boards. Chris seized my hips, and I set my right blade on its back outside edge, ready to push off.

  He assisted me up into the air, and I knew as soon my feet left the ice that he’d thrown me with too much force. I was leaning, and the ground was coming fast.

  You are not going down!

  My blade hit the ice with a thud, and I pitched forward at the waist, trying to control the momentum and avoid putting my other foot down. With all of my strength, I held my arms out for balance and kept myself upright on one leg to nail the clean landing.

  Chris looked too stunned to nod this time. I squeezed his hand, and he broke into a smile as we accelerated into the closing seconds of the program. When the four and a half minutes were over, my exhausted body told me I’d poured every ounce of my heart and soul into the performance.

  The audience had stood before the music ended, and I couldn’t hold back the tears as Chris embraced me.

  “Thank you so much.” I wished there were stronger words to tell him how much I appreciated him as my partner and my friend.

  He squeezed my shoulders. “You saved me on the loop.”

  I grinned. “You’ve saved me lots of times.”

  As we bowed, Marley ran down to the boards and tossed the teddy bear. Chris snatched it from the ice and blew Marley a kiss.

  Tears blurred my contact lenses as I glided toward the ice door, so I couldn’t see Sergei clearly. When I finally saw his face, I started crying harder. His cheeks were flushed with elation, and his smile couldn’t be any bigger. He opened his arms, and I pressed my face against his chest, my tears dampening his paisley tie.

  “Wow,” he said in awe.

  I wanted to thank him, too, but between catching my breath from the program and choking on sobs, I couldn’t speak. Sergei embraced Chris and continued to slap him on the back as we stepped into the Kiss & Cry.

  People in the crowd chanted, “Six! Six!” I laughed and soaked in every moment of the experience. The deafening cheers, the look of amazement on Chris’s face, Sergei’s proud smile–everything seemed surreal. I’d had the performance of my life when I’d needed it most, and doing it in my hometown made it even more unbelievable.

  When the technical scores appeared on the Jumbotron, all I heard were screams of glee. 5.9’s covered the board. The presentation scores followed, and except for two 5.9’s, every other judge had given us 6.0. I put my hands over my mouth and began crying all over again. Not once in twelve years of skating had I seen the mark of perfection under my name.

  Chris’s eyes expanded, and he threw his arms around me. “No way!”

  My whole body shook from the excitement. We stood to wave to the audience, and I placed my hand over my heart to thank them for their support.

  Our competitors showered us with congratulations as we made our way backstage. Claire and Brandon, the two-time defending champs who’d finished second, were very gracious in offering us compliments and hugs.

  Sergei trailed close behind us. He stopped us outside the locker rooms and paused, appearing to gather his thoughts.

  “What you did out there . . . don’t ever forget how that felt.”

  “It felt darn good,” Chris said with a laugh.

  A couple of Chris’s former training mates from Baltimore stole him away, leaving Sergei and me smiling at each other.

  He brought me into a tight hug. “I’m so proud of you, Em.”

  “Bet you never thought you’d see this day when you first started working with me. I could hardly stay upright in the lifts.”

  “I always knew you had it in you.”

  His hot breath teased my ear, stirring the feelings I’d locked away when I was on the ice. With my arms wrapped around his strong shoulders, my mouth so close to his neck, I fought to push those feelings down again. I put all my energy into expressing gratitude, the one emotion I was allowed to convey to him.

  “Thank you for believing in me,” I whispered.

  He closed his arm harder around my waist, and my breath suspended. His voice dropped low with emotion. “You were on fire tonight.”

  I bit down on my lip. Sergei, you’re killing me.

  He held onto me another moment before stepping back. “The medal ceremony will be starting soon.”

  I hurried into the locker room and grabbed my makeup case. With an unsteady hand, I cleared my face of all traces of tears. A few minutes later, I reconnected with Chris, and we waited next to the ice to be introduced as the gold medalists.

  When we took our place on the top step of the podium, I bobbed up and down, unable to contain my enthusiasm.

  Chris laughed. “This is so awesome.”

  I skimmed over the stands for my family, and Bri got my attention, waving her arms in the front row. My parents, aunts, uncles, and other cousins stood beside her, half of them with cameras aimed at me. Mom dabbed at her eyes with a tissue, and I willed myself not to cry again.

  The president of the U.S. Figure Skating Federation presented us with our medals and silver championship platters, while event sponsors handed us flowers and champion pins. Chris chuckled as my tiny arms overflowed with the loot.

  After we posed for the official photographs, we were instructed to take a victory lap. Chris and I led the way, stopping when we reached our parents. I gave Mom my bouquet, and she and Dad embraced me at the same time.

  Mom touched my cheek and smiled through her tears. “You were so beautiful, sweetie.”

  “Absolutely wonderful,” Dad said.

  Once I’d spent a few moments with the rest of my family, I skated along the boards to the spot where my friends stood. Chris was already there, taking pictures with Marley. Aubrey started the train of hugs as I went down the line from friend to friend. Drew was at the end of the line, and he reached out to hug me.

  “You rocked it out.”

  “Thanks! You’re gonna rock it out tomorrow. I can feel it.”

  “Maybe some of your good mojo will rub off on me.”

  I laughed. “Take as much as you need.”

  Over an hour later, I arrived at the hotel, finished with the media obligations at the arena. Mom and Dad greeted me in the lobby as I unwound my scarf and unzipped my jacket.

  “Everyone’s in the restaurant,” Mom said. “Chris’s parents, Aubrey’s family, Marley’s family. We put a bunch of tables together. Where’s Chris?”

  “He stopped outside to talk to one of his old coaches. Have you seen Sergei? He must’ve left the arena when we were in the press conference.”

  “He passed through here a little while ago.” Mom waved her hand. “I invited him to come celebrate, but he said he was tired.”

  My heart sank, and I looked toward the elevators as if Sergei might change his mind. But that was wishful thinking. Every time I sensed us
becoming closer again, he pulled away.

  Chapter Twelve

  When I woke up the next morning, the first thing that popped into my head was National Champs. I couldn’t stop myself from smiling as I climbed out of bed to retrieve the newspaper. Opening the hotel room door, I squealed at the front page.

  Under the Boston Globe masthead was a picture of Chris and me performing a lift during our free skate. The headline read, “Golden Homecoming.” I squeaked again.

  Aubrey rolled over in her bed and asked groggily, “What is it?”

  “Look!” I switched on the nightstand lamp and displayed the newspaper.

  “That’s really cool,” she said with as much enthusiasm as she could muster after just waking up.

  After I read all the skating articles, I got dressed to go down to the coffee shop. The elevator doors opened on my floor, and Sergei looked up, his eyes brightening. I had a feeling he saw the same reaction from me.

  “Did you get any sleep last night?” he asked.

  “I did. Once my head hit the pillow, my body finally gave out from all the stress.”

  “I didn’t get much of a chance to talk to you at the arena. Was that the amazing skate you were looking for?” He gave me a little smile, just enough to tease my heartstrings.

  “Yeah, it was pretty amazing. Hey, did you see the paper this morning? We made the front page!”

  Sergei’s smile widened. “You’d better get used to it.”

  The elevator reached the lobby, and we both started toward Starbucks.

  “I’m treating myself to a large frozen cappuccino with extra whipped cream,” I said.

  “Wow, don’t get too crazy,” he teased as we approached the counter.

  I laughed. “I’m saving the crazy for the closing party tonight. I plan on dancing till I drop.”

  Sergei folded his arms, putting up the invisible barrier again. “Don’t wear yourself out. You have to skate in the Exhibition tomorrow.”

  What did I say?

  “I know,” I replied curtly. “I have plenty of energy to spare.”

  We gave the barista our orders and waited quietly for our names to be called. When Sergei received his coffee, he gave me a polite goodbye and headed to the lobby. I poked a straw into my drink and shook my head.

  One step forward, five steps back.

  ****

  Aubrey and I had brought half our wardrobes to Boston, and we spread every item of clothing across our beds. I spent a ridiculous amount of time trying to decide what shirt to wear with my jeans to the party. Settling on a teal blue, textured silk halter top, I slipped it on and gave my hair one last brush over my shoulders before we left our room.

  Trevor had become the annual host of the “pre-party,” and he had a well-stocked bar in his room. Bottles of beer, liquor, juice, and soda covered every inch of the desk. Deciding to try a cocktail, I asked Drew to mix a screwdriver for me.

  I toasted his beer bottle with my plastic cup. “To your bronze medal and a standing ovation!”

  “And to the champion!”

  Marley squeezed next to us, tugging Chris’s hand behind her. “What are we toasting?”

  “Our awesomeness.” Drew lifted his bottle again.

  We all tapped our drinks together and took long gulps. The vodka burned a searing line from my throat down to my stomach. I coughed and set the cup on the desk. That was enough alcohol for me.

  People kept coming in until we had hardly any space to stand. Once the room became too crowded, we made our way downstairs to the official party. Music blared through the double doors of the ballroom. Aubrey, Drew, and I danced inside, and our feet didn’t stop moving for the next hour.

  A song ended, and Drew made a timeout signal. “Restroom break.”

  “I’ll take a walk to the lobby with you.” I fanned myself.

  I limped behind Drew as we went out to the escalator. “My heels are killing me,” I explained.

  “Hop on, I’ll give you a ride.” Drew grinned and motioned to his back.

  I jumped on piggyback style and let out a loud peal of laughter as he galloped through the near-empty lobby. Outside the restrooms, I slid off his back, still laughing. When I spun around and faced the hotel bar, I saw Sergei sitting with three other coaches. He was wearing the blue sweater I always thought made him look especially hot.

  I pivoted on my heel. Forget about him. Tonight is about having fun.

  Waiting for Drew, I rested against the back of an overstuffed couch and was about to slip off my shoes when a voice startled me.

  “What are you doing with him?”

  Sergei came around the sofa and stood in front of me. He was holding a drink, and the glassiness in his eyes told me he’d already had a few more.

  “Excuse me?” I sputtered.

  He leaned closer, and I got a pungent whiff of whatever liquor he was drinking. “Why are you wasting your time with him?” he asked with more persistence.

  My blood pressure surged upward. “That’s none of your business.”

  “Everything you do is my business.”

  I gaped at him, having never seen him so aggressive. “I think you’ve had too much to drink.”

  Drew came out of the men’s room, and I joined him in stride, fleeing Sergei’s intense stare. I didn’t realize my hands were trembling until I went to tuck my hair behind my ears.

  What was that?

  Had Sergei suddenly become dictatorial or was there another reason for his questions? Either way, his method of asking had been unnerving.

  Despite the pain in my pinched toes, I resumed dancing with my friends. My body moved to the beat of the music, but the movements felt involuntary. Sergei’s behavior had my mind whirling.

  After we exhausted ourselves on the dance floor, Trevor announced his room would also be the site of the after-party. On the way there, I thought again about what Sergei had said to me, and my pulse heightened. Why did he act so controlling?

  “I have to run to my room for a minute,” I told Drew. “I’ll be back.”

  I returned to the elevator and punched the button for Sergei’s floor but couldn’t quite remember the room number he’d given Chris and me. Was it 1214? Or 1204?

  Hoping I was going to the right place, I strode toward 1214 and rapped my knuckles on the door.

  Sergei opened it, and I marched past him into the room, which reeked of coffee. “What is your problem?” I spat out. He followed me while I kept talking. “You have no right to question who I hang out with–”

  “I know. I was out of line.” The glass-like sheen had lifted from his eyes.

  “That’s right, you were out of line.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “What is your issue with Drew anyway?”

  Sergei stood with his hands on his hips. “I don’t see why you’d want to get involved with someone who lives so far away.”

  “I’m not involved with him. We’re just good friends.”

  “He doesn’t want to be just your friend.”

  “No, he doesn’t, but he knows it’s what I want.”

  “Then what was that kiss I saw in Paris?”

  My mouth opened, but no words came out. I wasn’t going to offer any explanations without knowing why I was being interrogated.

  “Why do you care?”

  Sergei’s eyes darted across my face, but they didn’t give me any hint of his thoughts. He shifted his gaze over my shoulder. “Your personal life affects your skating life.”

  I looked down at the carpet and nodded slowly. “Of course. You’re concerned because you’re my coach. What other reason could there be, right?”

  I glanced up at Sergei. His lips parted, and I took a small step, anticipating a response. But he didn’t offer one as he avoided my stare and shuffled toward the desk.

  Shaking my head, I hurried to leave, thinking how stupid I was for expecting some grand revelation.

  “Em, wait,” Sergei said, but I opened the door anyway.

  He came up behind me a
nd shut it. “I said wait!”

  With my hand on the knob, I spun around, and my face nearly brushed Sergei’s left arm. He stood there, looking at me as if he had something to say but couldn’t get it out.

  “I’m waiting,” I said, my voice barely audible.

  Sergei dipped his head and relaxed his arm but still didn’t speak. I’d had enough of the torture, so I twisted the handle.

  “Don’t go.” He grasped my hand.

  All the blood in my body rushed to that hand, where Sergei laced his fingers through mine. He inched forward, leaving only a millimeter of space between us. I feared I would cease breathing any second.

  “Em, I can’t . . .” He paused and swallowed hard, the silence excruciating. My heart sent deep, vibrating beats to my core.

  “I can’t stop thinking about you.” His eyes captured mine. “And I don’t want to.”

  A thousand volts of electricity shot down my spine. If I hadn’t been wedged between Sergei and the door, I might’ve fallen over. I wanted to throw my arms around him, but fear of being rejected again paralyzed me.

  “What are you going to do about that?” I whispered.

  He seemed to move even closer to me, if that was possible. “What do you want me to do?”

  I knew exactly what I wanted, what I desired every time Sergei walked into a room and I felt the magnetic pull.

  I kissed him. Hard.

  He pressed me against the door, his hands on my face and in my hair. I locked my arms around him, digging my nails into his sweater. His muscles were hard and tight.

  All the months of dancing around each other, holding in the feelings we shouldn’t feel–through each deep and searching kiss, we released those frustrations. As the pace of our kisses slowed, I became more aware of Sergei’s tender touch. His fingertips grazed the nape of my neck, tickling my skin like a feather and sending goose bumps all over my body. I sighed against his lips. I’d waited so long for him to touch me like that.

  Sergei wrapped me in an embrace and buried his face in my hair. Laying my head on his chest, I closed my eyes and listened to his heart racing. I didn’t want to leave his arms, that spot, that moment.

  We remained still for a few minutes until Sergei pulled back just enough to face me. He brushed strands of hair from my cheek.