Life on the Edge

by Jennifer Comeaux

I rolled my eyes. “Please excuse her.”

  “She’s not afraid to speak her mind.” Sergei laughed and reached out to help me with my coat. “By the way, you look amazing.”

  His familiar smile eased my anxiety, but the admiring glow in his eyes set off a new kind of tingling in my stomach. I smiled back and fingered his burgundy tie.

  “Thanks. You don’t look so bad yourself.”

  When we arrived at the Hyannis Performing Arts Center, the doors of the theater weren’t open yet. I made sure to leave an appropriate amount of space between Sergei and me as we waited in the lobby. Opening my program booklet, I began reading the summary biography of composer Sergei Rachmaninov’s life.

  “Em!” a voice behind me exclaimed.

  I immediately recognized the squeaky greeting and turned to find Courtney and her parents coming toward us. Courtney looked back and forth from Sergei to me with a huge smile on her face.

  I stepped even farther away from Sergei. “Are you guys Rachmaninov fans, too?”

  “We try to make all the concerts. Have you heard the symphony play before? They’re excellent,” Courtney’s dad Tom said.

  “This is my first time. Sergei and I are thinking about using tonight’s pieces for program music next year, so we wanted to hear them live.”

  “Music for me and Mark or you and Chris?” Courtney asked as she removed her red pea coat.

  “Well, you’ll have to let us know how you like them,” Sergei said.

  I studied the parents’ faces, looking for any sign of surprise or confusion. Nothing seemed amiss with them. Tom, the bespectacled, mild-mannered accountant, wore the same unaffected expression as always, while Karen had on her usual caring and friendly smile, one that reminded me of my kindergarten teacher. Courtney, however, still stared at Sergei and me with a goofy grin.

  “The next concert is New World Symphony in a few weeks. You should check that one out, too,” Tom said.

  I glanced at Sergei. “I think we’re going to be in Japan then. We have Four Continents in Salt Lake City and then Grand Prix Final in Tokyo. I don’t know who came up with this crazy schedule of back-to-back events on different continents.”

  “It’ll be a good test for you and Chris. If you can survive this, you can survive anything.” Sergei sounded like he did every day at the rink, spouting his coach-speak. Nicely done.

  People began to file into the theater, so we followed the crowd and said goodbye to Courtney and her parents.

  “I don’t think they suspected anything,” Sergei said after he showed the usher our tickets.

  “No, I think we’re good. I didn’t expect to be tested so soon, though.”

  “It won’t always have to be this way,” he said softly.

  “I know,” I replied with a little smile.

  After the musicians finished tuning their instruments, the room darkened, and the dramatic opening notes of Piano Concerto No. 2 filled the theater. The extreme highs and lows of the music reminded me of the emotional journey I’d experienced lately. I hoped my journey would end the same as the concerto–on a high note.

  During intermission, I ran into Courtney on my way out of the ladies’ room. The tiny girl stood out in the line of women touching up their makeup along the row of mirrors.

  “What did you think of the piece?” I asked.

  “I’d love to skate to it next year! You can choreograph our short to it.”

  “I’m glad you’re excited about it. I’ll talk it over with Sergei.”

  Courtney played with the ends of her long, golden locks as we walked through the lobby. “So, are you and Sergei on a date?”

  I was sure all the color had drained from my face. “What? Why would you think that?”

  She shrugged. “I just think you’d make an awesome couple.”

  I fought the urge to smile and focused on giving an appropriate response. “He’s my coach, Court.”

  “Yeah, but you work together as coaches, too, and he’s not that much older than you.”

  Listen to the twelve-year-old rationalizing it. Maybe I should ask her to talk to my parents.

  “I think you’re too young to be matchmaking, my dear.” I put my arm around her and tried to ignore the guilty feeling I was becoming all too familiar with.

  The lights blinked, signaling the end of intermission. I sent Courtney on her way and hurried to my seat.

  “I saw Court, and she asked if you and I are on a date.”

  “What?” Sergei’s eyes doubled in size.

  “I don’t think it was anything we did. More what she wants to see.”

  “She wants to see us together?”

  I said in Sergei’s ear, “She said we’d make an awesome couple.”

  He grinned. “I always knew she was a smart kid.”

  The orchestra launched into Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini, my favorite classical composition. The intricate work of the pianist gave me chills; every note struck a chord in my heart. Sitting next to Sergei in the darkness with the romantic music surrounding us, I wished I could feel his hand in mine. I reminded myself of his words–“It won’t always have to be this way.”

  As the musicians took their bows, I blinked back the tears in my eyes. “I can’t believe how amazing they sounded. It was so beautiful.”

  Sergei just smiled at me as we filed out of the theater and reached his car. When we were seated inside, he said, “You were a little choked up in there.”

  I laughed and looked down at my lap. “Music makes me emotional sometimes.”

  “That explains why you have such a great connection with the music when you skate.” He squeezed my knee, warming me all over. “Do you want to hang out somewhere for a while?” he asked as he started the car.

  “Sure. I don’t know if we can go to my house, though. Aubrey was going to a movie with Trevor and Zach, and they might end up there after.”

  “We can go to my place.”

  The butterflies from earlier in the evening returned. I trusted Sergei, but being alone with a guy in his apartment was uncharted territory for me. I wasn’t ready to say goodnight, though.

  The first thing I noticed about Sergei’s apartment was how tidy it was. At Chris’s and Trevor’s, empty pizza boxes and cans of soda littered the coffee table, and the floor in front of the TV was a mess of wires and video games. Here, not a single item was out of place.

  I took off my coat and draped it over the back of the sofa. Sergei set his keys on the bar between the living room and the kitchen and asked, “Would you like something to drink?”

  “I’ll just have some water.”

  I stood aimlessly in the middle of the living room and looked around me. The space featured the basic items–a couch of nondescript color, a narrow coffee table with a short stack of paperbacks on it, and a wooden entertainment cabinet housing a small television and a stereo. Twin floor lamps that bookended the couch cast a dim glow of light.

  The only photo sat on the bar–a framed picture of Sergei, Chris, and me at the 2000 National Championships, posing with our silver medals. As I wandered away from the kitchen, Sergei brought me a glass of water and took off his suit jacket.

  “You don’t have any pictures of your family,” I said.

  He laid his jacket next to my coat and went over to the stereo. “My father hates posing for pictures. I think my parents’ wedding photo is the only one I’ve seen of him.”

  “He wouldn’t survive in my family. Someone’s always got their camera out, usually my dad or Aunt Deb. And they like to capture every moment, whether it’s important or embarrassing.”

  “My mother had one of those old cameras that you plug the flash bulb into.” Sergei chuckled as he inserted a CD into the disc player. “She used to sew my costumes when I was a kid and then make me pose in them.”

  “Oh, I have to see those pictures!”

  Soft classical music streamed through the speakers, and Sergei led me to the sofa. “They are locked deep in a closet in Moscow.�
�

  He loosened the knot on his tie and slipped his arm behind me. I put my glass on the coffee table and settled against him, sighing as his fingertips caressed my shoulder. Being with Sergei felt so natural, so right. I didn’t know why I’d been nervous.

  “I guess we’re not going to have much time together when we’re on the road in a few weeks,” I lamented.

  Sergei ran his fingers through my hair, one soothing stroke after another. “We can have room service dinners or watch a movie.”

  “That sounds really nice. Spending time with you will help take my mind off the stress of the events.”

  “I know something else that can help take your mind off it.”

  I tilted my head up to him, and he covered my lips with his. He was right; I forgot everything except how I could kiss him every day for the rest of my life and never grow tired of it.

  I thought I heard the CD player shuffle through a few different pieces, so we must’ve been kissing quite a long time. Sergei’s hands roamed over my dress, quickening my breath and making me feel more alive than I’d ever felt. So many new sensations stirred inside me.

  When his touch fell to my knee and edged upward, I tightened and pulled back with a breathless, “It’s getting pretty late.”

  “Did Aubrey give you a curfew?”

  I laughed. “No, I just . . . I should probably get home.”

  He smiled and kissed my forehead. “Okay.”

  After a long goodnight embrace on my doorstep, I watched Sergei drive out of the parking lot. I didn’t know if he realized how little relationship experience I had. At some point, I was going to have to tell him how far I was willing to go. Or rather, not go. And I hoped he would understand.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “First place after the short!” I squealed as I hurried into Sergei’s hotel room.

  We’d been in Salt Lake City for the Four Continents competition for three days and had managed to sneak alone-time twice already. With Aubrey as my roommate and Chris occupied with Marley, I didn’t have to worry about making up reasons for my disappearances.

  Sergei took my face in his hands and kissed me deeply. After giving me a long hug, he said, “There were a couple of things I forgot to mention to you and Chris earlier about your footwork and–”

  I placed my finger over his lips. “Why don’t we agree–no lessons during our personal time?”

  He smiled and tipped his head. “Agreed.”

  “I’ll be happy to listen to your thoughts tomorrow morning at practice. Until then . . .” I reached up and gave him a feathery kiss.

  “Dinner’s here if you’re hungry. Or we could keep doing this.” He nuzzled my neck.

  I giggled. “That would be very nice, but I am kinda starving.”

  Sergei kept his arms around me as we went over to the small round table by the window. Two covered room service dishes awaited us. I removed the silver dome from my grilled chicken salad and poured a light stream of oil and vinegar over the greens.

  “It’s pretty cool seeing all the Olympic ads everywhere.” I speared a cherry tomato with my fork. “Just think, one year from now we could be back here, getting ready for the Opening Ceremony.”

  “Why don’t we focus on one competition at a time?” Sergei said before taking a drink of water.

  “I know, I know. Can’t help dreaming a little bit, though.”

  “We’ll get there.” Under the table, Sergei rubbed his leg against mine. Even through the denim, his touch sent a spark through me.

  Neither of us said much as we enjoyed our dinner, but the periods of silence were comfortable. Sergei’s smile across the table spoke more than words could say.

  I emptied my glass of water and set it on the room service tray. “Chris and I found out tonight Blades on Ice is doing their next cover article on us.”

  “That’s great. You guys are doing exactly what I’d hoped. You’re making people excited about American pairs skating.”

  “From all the phone calls you’ve been getting from prospective students, that might be true.”

  “I’m not going to take on too many new ones next season. My schedule’s pretty full already.”

  “Did you ever think you’d have to turn students away this soon in your career?”

  “No way. When I started the program on the Cape, I thought it would take a few years to have some competitive teams. Then you showed up one day, and as soon as I saw you skate . . .” He smiled, and the memory swam in his eyes. “I knew I had the start of something special. I just had to find you a great partner.”

  “What would’ve happened if none of my tryouts worked out? Hey, maybe you could’ve come out of retirement and skated with me.” I bumped his knee under the table.

  Sergei’s face tightened, and he concentrated on rearranging the fork and knife on his plate. “I’m much better at coaching.”

  “You must’ve been pretty good to be a world champ.” I used a light tone, hoping to encourage him to open up.

  “That was a long time ago.” He cleared his throat. “Do you want to come over for dinner again tomorrow night?”

  His quick change of subject nibbled at my curiosity even more, but I didn’t push. “I should be able to sneak away. Maybe we’ll be celebrating our first international title.” I clasped my hands together.

  Sergei covered my hands with one of his. “Think about the program, Em, not the result.”

  We eventually moved from the table to the big chair in the corner of the room. Sergei stretched his legs across the ottoman, and I settled onto his lap, snuggling against his chest. He flipped on the TV and scrolled through the movie listings with the remote control.

  “Any preferences?” he asked. “Comedy? Drama?”

  “Comedy,” I replied quickly. The darkness on Sergei’s face when I’d mentioned his skating career had been enough seriousness for the evening. I cuddled deeper into Sergei’s embrace but couldn’t forget that stark change in his eyes. Would he ever share his story?

  ****

  Despite the high stakes going into the free skate, my muscles didn’t contain as much nervous tension as expected. With the Canadian champions, Hyatt and Wakefield, skipping the event, Claire and Brandon stood as our main competition, and our scores had outpaced theirs by quite a bit at Nationals.

  In a few strokes across the ice, Chris and I generated a gust of speed in preparation for the triple twist. My toepick stabbed into the ice, and Chris tossed me up. I pulled my arms against my body to rotate, but something didn’t feel right. Tighter, tighter!

  I couldn’t adjust in time and came down too early. A glimpse of Chris’s startled face flashed before me. He lost his balance as he tried to catch me, and we landed in a tangled heap on the ice, drawing a loud gasp from the audience.

  Cold wetness seeped into my stockings before I scrambled to my feet. Chris wiped his hands on his pants, and our quick crossovers caught us up with the music. The side-by-side Lutzes were ahead, but the disaster on the twist replayed in my mind. I tripped on the landing of the Lutz, arms flailing to stop from falling again. Gold is surely gone now.

  I stumbled on the next three jumps as I rushed through my technique, hurrying toward the end. When is this program going to be over? Chris’s reassuring nods and hand squeezes didn’t register with me. The music entered my ears, but all I could hear was the audience’s gasps resonating in my head.

  Frozen in our ending pose, heat spread over my face and down the back of my neck. What have I done? Saying sorry couldn’t make up for mentally checking out of the program, but I apologized to Chris anyway.

  He put his arm around me. “Flush it. That’s all you can do.”

  In the Kiss & Cry, I steered my eyes away from Sergei. Chris clamped his hand around my shoulder, but Sergei didn’t say or do anything. His stillness chilled me more than the ice on which I’d fallen.

  As expected, the technical scores weren’t good, and the presentation marks were the lowest we’d received all year. W
ith one team left to skate, we sat in fourth place, off the podium for the first time that season.

  I took long strides ahead of Chris and Sergei backstage, my skate guards clacking on the concrete. Before I could reach the locker room, Sergei called my name and ushered Chris and me away from the media and other skaters. Filling my chest with air, I slowly let it out and looked at him.

  I was sorry I did.

  He glared at me, his eyes a dark and stormy ocean about to drown me with his anger and disappointment.

  “I don’t ever want to see you give up like that again. The lack of effort you gave was inexcusable. You fall, you fight through it.” Sergei turned to Chris. “I saw you fighting and pushing through. Emily apparently forgot how to compete tonight.” He shot his scowl at me again.

  Every word hit me like a bullet, and all of my frustration and humiliation threatened to burst out in the form of tears. Don’t you dare cry.

  Sergei towered over me, hands on hips. “What were you thinking about after you fell?”

  I couldn’t decide if I should lie because he wasn’t going to like the truth. Figuring the situation couldn’t get much worse, I went with honesty.

  “There goes our chance at gold.”

  He rubbed his hand over his mouth. “How many times do I have to remind you that thinking about the results will get you nowhere?”

  “I know,” I croaked.

  “Do you? I don’t think you do. Maybe I need to repeat it a thousand more times because you obviously haven’t been listening.”

  I fixed my eyes on the diamond pattern on his pale green tie. My chin began to tremble, so I gritted my teeth. Chris stepped closer to me and placed his hand on my back.

  Sergei continued, “If you want to be the best in the world, you can’t afford to slack off one second of a program. Nothing will ever be handed to you, so you’d better work harder and give your absolute best effort every time you step on the ice.” He stopped to take a breath. “And you’d better show a lot more heart in Japan.”

  The pools of water in my eyes prepared to spill at any moment. “Got it.”

  Sergei marched toward the monitor to watch Claire and Brandon skate, and Chris touched my arm. “Are you okay?”