Life on the Edge

by Jennifer Comeaux

  I bent my knees and pressed my blades deeper into the ice. These are the last seconds of your season. Make them count. Each stroke heightened the pain in my legs, but I powered forward through our final lift and spin.

  Chris pulled me close to him, and I broke into a wide grin as we spun into our ending pose. I threw my arms around him, and he held me so tight I gasped.

  “I can’t breathe,” I choked out with a laugh.

  He released me and pointed toward the audience for our bows. He still hadn’t cracked a smile; his face stayed motionless as if he was stunned at our perfect performance.

  Chris remained silent in the Kiss & Cry, while Sergei and I dissected the minute details of the program. Our scores appeared, and I thought they were good enough for the bronze medal, but I couldn’t be sure until I saw the placements. A long string of three’s followed on the monitor, and the announcer confirmed, “They are in third place.”

  I shook Chris’s shoulders. “We got a medal!”

  He finally smiled before giving me a warm hug. In his embrace, I felt shared happiness, relief, and pride. All the hours of practice, all the bruises, all the aches and pains–it was all worth it in that moment.

  Chris and I stood to give the crowd an appreciative wave. Sergei’s strong hand touched the small of my back, and he whispered in my ear, “You inspire me.”

  My knees threatened to give way. I avoided looking into Sergei’s eyes because I wouldn’t be able to resist kissing him. Instead, I put my focus on the scoreboard and let the final standings sink in.

  1. Leonova/Romanov

  2. Hyatt/Wakefield

  3. Chris and me!

  We were right where we needed to be in our quest for the ultimate prize.

  Sergei moved to hug Chris, but his gesture was met with a stiff response, a subtle reminder that even in our moment of triumph, problems still remained.

  ****

  A couple of hours later, Sergei and I stood with my parents at the front of the hotel restaurant, and I poked my head into the lobby in search of Chris and his parents. Our celebratory dinner couldn’t begin without them.

  Mom brushed the sleeves of her wool blazer. “Sergei, this is quite an item to add to your resume’. There aren’t many coaches your age with these kinds of results.”

  “I have some pretty talented students to thank for that.” He beamed a smile of pride in my direction.

  Mom slid closer to him and arched her neck to look up at him. “Don’t think because Emily won a medal, you’re off the hook with me. I’m still keeping an eye on you.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Can’t we enjoy the occasion? If you don’t act normal, Chris’s parents are going to wonder what’s up.”

  I watched Mom throughout dinner, afraid the wine she was drinking would loosen her lips. My shoulders finally relaxed when Chris’s parents declined dessert to retire to their room. Dad used Mom’s drowsiness from the wine to convince her to leave soon thereafter. Sergei, Chris and I sat in silence at the table. Chris stared at the tablecloth and fiddled with an empty packet of Sweet & Low.

  “This isn’t awkward,” I joked.

  Chris slid his chair back and jutted his chin toward me. “Can you take a walk with me?”

  “Uh, sure. Are you going upstairs?” I asked Sergei.

  He lifted his mug. “As soon as I finish my coffee.”

  “I’ll call you in a little bit.” I tapped his foot under the table.

  Chris guided me through the hotel’s side entrance and stopped on the deserted sidewalk. His face held the same grim look from our conversation the previous night.

  “Em, do you know what this means?” He took his medal out of his jacket pocket. “We really have a shot next year at the Olympics.”

  “I know.” I bobbed up and down, both to stay warm and to convey my excitement.

  His expression stayed serious. The tiny freckles on his cheeks that danced when he laughed didn’t move. “You need to decide if you want this more than you want him.”

  I froze in the middle of a downward bob. “What?”

  “If you want this as bad as you say, then you should put your relationship with Sergei on hold.”

  I took a step back and narrowed my wide eyes. “It’s not that simple. How would you feel if I asked you to stop seeing Marley?”

  “My relationship with Marley isn’t a ticking time bomb.”

  “Don’t you think you’re being a little dramatic?”

  Sergei pushed open the glass doors. “I saw you out here as I was leaving the restaurant. Is everything okay?”

  Chris faced him. “I told Em she needs to stop seeing you.”

  “That’s not your decision to make.” Sergei used his familiar authoritative tone.

  “Well, it doesn’t look like you’re gonna step up and do the responsible thing.”

  Sergei moved toward him, his shoulders appearing to broaden. “If you have a problem with me, then talk to me about it.”

  Chris glowered at him. “My problem is I trusted you to put your students first, but you’ve got your own personal agenda.”

  “My agenda is to help you win an Olympic gold medal, and I’ve put you on a strong path to do that. That’s all you need to worry about.”

  “So, I shouldn’t be concerned that at any minute, your relationship with Em could explode in all our faces?”

  The two of them had inched closer to each other, eye to eye, their bodies rigid. I stepped into their circle of testosterone.

  “Chris, can’t you understand–” I pleaded.

  “I understand you’re gonna do whatever you want. You seem to have forgotten there’s another person in this partnership. Or maybe you just don’t care.”

  I winced. “You know that’s not true,” I mumbled through the tears in my throat.

  Sergei gave Chris a warning glare. “Stop this before you say something you regret.”

  Chris pressed his lips together. “Think about what I said, Em.”

  He stalked inside, a breeze of unsettled air behind him. I shivered and knotted my scarf tighter.

  “I think in time he’ll understand,” Sergei said. “He won’t stay angry.”

  “I hope so.” I wanted to convince myself, but my voice revealed my doubt.

  Sergei glanced down at the pavement and then up at me. “Are you considering his request?”

  “No, of course not. I told him it’s not that easy to walk away from someone you love.”

  His shoulders heaved, and he locked his eyes on mine. “I promise we’ll get through this.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  We didn’t have much time after Worlds to bask in our success. The Olympic season loomed ahead, and the first thing we needed to do was find the right music for our new programs. Chris, Sergei, and I listened to a variety of classical pieces and movie soundtracks, only to throw most of the CDs onto the “reject” pile on Sergei’s living room floor.

  Chris tossed the West Side Story soundtrack onto the expanding stack. “I skated to that with my old partner.”

  I picked up a Rachmaninov CD and frowned. “Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini would’ve been perfect if Claire and Brandon hadn’t skated to it this season.”

  “Yeah, you don’t want music that’s just been used,” Sergei said and inserted a disc into the stereo. “How about Beethoven?”

  I reclined against the sofa while Sergei sat behind me and massaged my neck. Chris, ever observant, grimaced at the sign of affection and deepened the scowl he’d worn all evening. I shifted my attention to the quiet symphony.

  “This isn’t exciting me,” I said.

  “It’s putting me to sleep,” Chris added.

  Sergei rose and removed the disc. “That’s the end of the stack I pulled. Do you want to listen to the ‘maybe’ pile again?”

  Chris scooted on his knees over to the entertainment cabinet and examined the bottom shelf. “What about some of these other ones?” He passed his index finger along the spines and pulled one out. �
��Carmen–overused but the judges seem to love it.”

  “You’re not skating to that,” Sergei said brusquely.

  I wrinkled my eyebrows, and Chris asked, “Why not?”

  Sergei turned away from us and rearranged a few CDs on top of the stereo. “Because you can do better.”

  He picked up his empty bottle of water from the coffee table and went into the kitchen. Chris returned Carmen to the shelf. “O-kay.”

  I wondered if Sergei’s reaction had something to do with his skating career, but I wasn’t going to ask him about it with Chris around. Chris went back to searching the shelf, and I made my way to the kitchen.

  Sergei was inspecting the contents of his refrigerator. I stood behind him and wrapped my arms around his waist, kissing the back of his neck. He closed the door and faced me, and out of Chris’s judgmental eyesight, I gave him the deep kiss I’d wanted to give him all night.

  “Em, come listen to this one,” Chris called.

  I took Sergei’s hand, and we sat on the sofa. “Which piece is this?” I asked.

  “Grieg Piano Concerto.”

  We all sat with rapt attention as the piano notes transitioned between soft and powerful. The music reached a dramatic crescendo, and I pictured myself high above Chris’s head, soaring across the ice. Ice emblazoned with the Olympic rings. A rush of anticipation shot through me.

  The disc swirled to a stop, and Chris pointed to the stereo. “I think we’ve found our long program music.”

  “The second movement gave me goose bumps,” I said.

  Sergei examined the back of the CD case. “This could work really well with the right cuts. I’ll send it out for editing. What about the short?”

  Chris stood and stretched his arms over his head. “Can we do it another night? My ears need a break.”

  “Sounds like a good idea,” I agreed. The sooner Chris left, the sooner I could talk to Sergei.

  Chris walked to the door but stopped with his hand on the knob when I didn’t move from the couch. “Are you coming, Em?”

  “No, I’m going to hang out for a while.”

  He opened his mouth and jutted his tongue against the inside of his cheek. “Of course.” He swung open the door. “Later.”

  I cuddled close to Sergei. “I’m hoping Marley can soften him up a little. She was actually excited about you and me when I talked to her last night.”

  “Someone’s happy for us? We should celebrate.” He smiled and curled a lock of my hair around his finger.

  His inviting smile almost made me forget my questions. Almost, but not quite. “I wanted to ask you something first. You were so adamant about us not using Carmen.” I ran my hand over his soft T-shirt. “Did you have a bad skate to it?”

  Sergei’s muscles tensed under my palm. He waited a moment before he replied, “I was going to skate to it, but it never happened.”

  “You scrapped the program?”

  Another pause followed. “Something like that.”

  My curiosity spiked with each of his vague answers. I tried to make my tone both gentle and insistent. “You never talk about your partnership with Elena. I’d like us to be able to talk about everything.”

  He scratched his hand through his short hair. “It was so long ago.”

  “I know, but it was an important part of your life. It would mean a lot to me if you’d share it with me.”

  The ensuing silence seemed to stretch for hours though it was mere seconds. Sergei toyed with the CD case next to him on the sofa. He slid it back and forth across the cushion, making a slight whooshing sound.

  “It was a very frustrating time. There was so much out of my control.”

  I rested my touch on his forearm. “How so?”

  “Elena’s father. He dictated everything. He was the reason we stopped skating.”

  “Why would he make you quit when you’d just won Junior Worlds?”

  “He was very wealthy and very powerful. Elena was his only child, and he wanted certain things . . . certain people for her. I was good enough to be her partner, but that was it.”

  “And you wanted more,” I guessed, my heart dipping.

  Sergei hadn’t looked at me since he began speaking, and he continued to stare at his lap. “She and I started seeing each other, but her father wouldn’t have it because my family wasn’t up to his standards. We kept seeing each other anyway. Eventually, he found out, and he sent Elena away to live with relatives and threatened me and my family if I tried to get in touch with her. He wasn’t a person you’d want to cross.”

  “He ended her skating career just because he didn’t approve of you?”

  Sergei returned to fidgeting with the jewel case. “To say he was angry would be an understatement.”

  Even though my parents had been strict with me growing up, I couldn’t imagine them treating me so harshly, destroying my dreams. “I can’t believe he would do something that drastic. He sounds like a total maniac.”

  “Elena was terrified of him.” Sergei’s voice dropped. “And I couldn’t do anything to help her.”

  Without thinking, I said quietly, “You loved her.”

  He finally looked in my direction and slowly shook his head. “I was so young. I don’t think I really knew what love was.”

  “Did you ever see her again?”

  He shook his head again. “I heard through friends she got married and lives in St. Petersburg.”

  I studied Sergei’s profile as I digested all the information. He was staring straight ahead at the television, which wasn’t on.

  “So, that’s the whole story? I guess I don’t understand why it’s been such a big secret. It’s not like you did something wrong. Elena’s dad is the one who was completely psycho.”

  “He didn’t want people to know why our partnership ended, to know his daughter had been involved with someone from the working class,” he said, not hiding his sarcasm. “He told everyone Elena was ready to quit. I wasn’t going to say anything different because who knew what he was capable of doing. I don’t like to talk about it because it’s a time I’d rather forget.”

  “I’m so sorry. It sounds like a nightmare of a situation.” I put my arm around him and rested my chin on his shoulder. “How come you didn’t get a new partner after Elena left?”

  “I lost all motivation. She was the only person I’d ever skated with.”

  The gloom in his voice brought a jealous twinge to my stomach. “It must’ve been hard to lose her. Not just as your partner, but . . .”

  He pulled me closer to him. “You know none of that matters now. It was so many years ago. What I felt for her is long gone.”

  “You never had any closure, though.”

  “I don’t need closure.” He lifted my chin with his fingertips. “I found you. You’re everything to me, Em.”

  His eyes warmed with love, and I pressed my mouth to his, hoping my kiss would show him how strongly I shared his feelings.

  “Thank you for telling me everything,” I said, taking his face into my hands.

  He enveloped me in his arms and brushed his lips against my hair. As he held me, images of Sergei and Elena stealing kisses in secret hideaways snuck into my mind. The pictures were all too familiar. I clamped my eyes shut and buried myself deeper into Sergei’s embrace.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “I hope the weather isn’t an omen for this dinner,” I said as the rain pounded against the windshield of Sergei’s SUV.

  Sergei steered the car onto my parents’ street. “At least your mom was willing to invite me over. Your dad must’ve done a lot of persuading.”

  “She’d better not bombard us with reasons why we shouldn’t be dating.”

  Sergei pulled into the driveway and dropped one hand from the steering wheel to my knee. “No matter what she says, I’m not going anywhere.”

  I leaned across the console and kissed him. “Good, because neither am I.”

  We ran under a shared umbrella up the steps to
the front porch, but we couldn’t escape the wind-blown rain. I flicked drops of water from the skirt of my flowered sundress, while Sergei smoothed his khaki pants and straightened the collar of his pale blue oxford shirt. I was about to insert my key into the door when Dad opened it. The smell of sautéed vegetables wafted out onto the porch.

  “Hey, sweetie. I’m glad you made it in this storm.” Dad hugged me, and I kissed his freshly shaven cheek. He extended his hand to Sergei. “It’s good to see you.”

  Sergei pumped Dad’s arm with vigor, and I smiled, knowing how much my father’s support meant to him. If only my mother would stop dwelling on potential problems and see the positives Sergei brought to my life. In the weeks since Worlds, I’d focused my conversations with her on skating and minimized discussion of my relationship. I couldn’t handle her constant negativity.

  “Is Mom in the kitchen?” I asked.

  “Yep, she’s working on a new recipe,” Dad said.

  We crossed the foyer into the cozy kitchen. Mom flitted between the stove and the narrow island in the center of the room. A bevy of mixing bowls, steaming pans, and cooking utensils surrounded her, but she moved about them with the ease of a skilled restaurant chef.

  “Hey, Mom–”

  She flipped on the food processor, and the loud whirring drowned out my greeting. When she appeared satisfied with the consistency of the green mixture, she shut off the machine. “Hi, honey.” After a pause, she added in a dry tone, “Sergei.”

  He stepped toward the island. “I really appreciate you having me over.”

  Mom kept her head down and spooned what looked like pesto into a small bowl. “Well, I thought it was time we got together and talked.”

  I groaned on the inside. Mom’s idea of talking would undoubtedly be preaching to Sergei and me.

  Dad patted Sergei’s shoulder. “I’ve got the Sox game on in the den. Why don’t we let these two work their magic in here?”

  “As long as you don’t need any help,” Sergei said to Mom.

  She spun the rotating spice rack and selected two bottles. “Emily and I have it covered.”