Life on the Edge

by Jennifer Comeaux

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chris raised his glass of water to mine. “Two programs down, one to go.”

  We’d followed up our successful short program with a clean long, the first of two required free skates at the Grand Prix Final. Oksana and Denis had also skated another perfect program and maintained their slim lead over us.

  I sipped my water and scanned the crowded hotel restaurant. Judges and coaches mingled at the bar, while officials of the various skating federations huddled together over their dinners. The politicking and schmoozing done at competitions was no secret. It was a game that had to be played in order to survive in the sport.

  Viktor walked into the room, and I quickly looked away. “I hope he doesn’t see us.”

  “I think it’s too late,” Chris said.

  He strode up to our table, his hands in his pockets. “Ready for tomorrow?”

  “Absolutely,” Chris said as I nodded.

  “It’s a shame Sergei can’t be here. You’ve had a great competition so far.”

  I detected no sincerity in his voice. His statement sounded more like an observation than an expression of sympathy.

  “Yeah, it’s not the same without him here,” I said.

  Viktor’s gray eyes regarded me closely, though I didn’t think I’d said anything questionable. I bent my head and aligned my silverware on the table.

  “I’ll be at the bar,” Viktor said. “Enjoy your dinner.”

  Chris waited until Viktor left to laugh. “Does that dude ever crack a smile?”

  “I’d say he might if we win tomorrow, but I don’t think he cares.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  I traced a line through the condensation on my water glass. “I’ve heard him make comments about Sergei. Viktor doesn’t give him any credit for how well we’ve done. I think he’s jealous of Sergei’s success.”

  “Well, he was the top dog at the rink before Sergei came along and we started winning. He’s probably not his biggest fan, especially since Sergei’s like ten years younger than him and already more successful.”

  At the bar across the room, Viktor chatted with one of the Italian judges. The elderly man spoke animatedly with his hands, while Viktor nodded and sipped his drink.

  I smoothed the linen napkin in my lap. “I think Viktor jumped at the chance to be here so he could network for himself, not to do Sergei any favors.”

  “Let him do whatever he wants.” Chris waved his hand. “As long as he doesn’t mess up our routine.”

  I folded my arms and narrowed my gaze toward the bar. We needed Sergei here to talk us up to the judges and sing our praises. I didn’t trust Viktor to promote us in any manner.

  ****

  This program is second nature to you now, so allow yourself to be in the moment.

  Sergei’s advice ran in a constant loop in my head as Chris and I strode toward the ice. We’d had a long phone conversation earlier, and Sergei had spouted all his favorite phrases of encouragement. I’d absorbed every word like a sponge.

  The Russians had just finished their free skate. We’d been in the tunnel, but a few loud gasps from the audience told me the program had been far from perfect. I circled the ice, warming up my legs and freezing my mind on one thought:

  Be in the moment.

  Chris reached for my hand and held me in our starting pose. The music of The Nutcracker danced through the air, and we hit each note with flourish and polish. We’d created the program for the Final and had practiced it for one short month, but the music flowed through me as if I’d performed it thousands of times. From the second the program began to the moment it ended, I pushed every edge deeper than I ever had.

  As the crowd erupted and Chris threw his arms around me, I instinctively looked toward the boards for Sergei’s reaction. Viktor’s unsmiling face rudely reminded me Sergei wasn’t there.

  We settled onto the small bench in the Kiss & Cry, and Chris found the camera. “Hope you saw that one, Sergei!”

  A flood of emotion overcame me, and I bit my bottom lip hard to hold back the tears. Chris saw I was about to break down. He hugged me to his side, and I rested my head on his shoulder.

  Chris squeezed me even tighter as our scores were read. When the announcer repeated “Six” three times, the American fans shrieked. I kept my eyes peeled to the video board, waiting for the final standings.

  “Come on,” I whispered.

  Chris and I breathed in harmony together, deep breath in and deep breath out. The blank blue screen on the video board taunted me until finally the rankings appeared. My gaze went to the top of the list.

  Emily Butler and Christopher Grayden

  “YES!” I jumped up and threw my arms in the air.

  Chris leapt to his feet and picked me up all in one motion, smothering me in a hug. A roaring ovation pelted my ears, and I could barely hear Chris when he said, “One step closer to history.”

  The tears wouldn’t be denied anymore. They poured down my face and onto Chris’s cream-colored shirt. Cheers of “USA!” broke out in the crowd and American flags waved throughout the stands.

  I can’t believe Sergei isn’t here for this.

  All Viktor had to offer in the form of congratulations was a steady clap and “Great job.” Chris and I headed backstage, where we were ushered to the medalists’ press conference. I grabbed a couple of tissues from our team leader and wiped the moisture from my cheeks. To our right sat the second place Russians and to our left the Canadians, winners of the bronze medal. Neither team looked pleased with their results. Oksana wore the sourest expression, maintaining pursed lips while Denis answered all the questions directed to them.

  Once the media finished their jobs, we waited in the corridor for the start of the medal ceremony. Viktor took a call on his cell and passed it to me.

  “There’s someone who wants to talk to you.”

  My heart pounded as I took the phone. “Hello?”

  “Em, that was amazing.” The pride in Sergei’s voice was crystal clear.

  I wandered away from Viktor. Chris followed me, and I faced the wall of the corridor. “Thanks,” I croaked. “It felt really, really good.”

  “I can’t even tell you how proud I am of you and Chris. You worked so hard for this. You went after it and didn’t hold back.”

  I used my thumb to blot the tears from my eyes. “I kept thinking about what you said . . . to be in the moment.”

  Silence came from Sergei’s end, and I covered the receiver so he couldn’t hear my sniffling.

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t there with you,” he said.

  I shook my head. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. You’re where you need to be.”

  “It was so weird watching on TV. I don’t ever want to do that again.”

  “I bet the Russian commentators weren’t too excited we beat Oksana and Denis.”

  “They were actually very complimentary of you. And since Oksana and Denis made mistakes, they couldn’t deny you were the best.”

  “I’m sure there’ll be people who’ll say we only won because they made mistakes.”

  Chris piped up, “They can shove it.”

  I smiled and pressed the phone closer to my ear. Sergei’s voice crackled over the static on the line. “You won because you skated three clean programs. You earned it.”

  “Was your mom able to watch or did she fall back asleep like last night?”

  He let out a deep laugh, a sound I missed more every day we were apart. “She stayed awake this time and was very excited you won. She can’t wait to meet you. I told her you’re even more beautiful in person.”

  Warmth spread through me, and my smile grew wider. “I can’t wait to meet her, too. And your dad.”

  “Emily! Chris!” one of the event volunteers called. “We’re doing the podium in a minute.”

  “I have to go. Will you still be up in about an hour?” I glanced at the clock on the wall and did a quick calculation of the current morning ti
me in Moscow.

  “Yeah, I’m too wired to go back to sleep now. I’ll call you in an hour. Go get that gold medal.”

  ****

  In the privacy of my hotel room, Sergei and I talked on the phone until he began yawning every five minutes. I told him to get some rest and let him go. Not tired myself, I flipped on the clock radio and danced around the room as I packed for the flight home the next evening.

  Soon, my dancing led to hunger. Fishing through my wallet, I scrounged up enough change for a snack. I deserved a rare junk food treat after what I’d accomplished.

  My T-shirt and old gym shorts appeared suitable for a short trip down the hall, so I took my money and my key and aimed for the tiny room with the ice and vending machines. I swung open the door and found Viktor in front of the ice machine. He’d changed from his suit to jeans and a sweater.

  “Oh.” I stopped short. “Hey.”

  He gave me the familiar penetrating appraisal except one corner of his mouth twitched upward. The hint of a smile didn’t make me any more comfortable.

  He picked up his full bucket of ice. “Can’t sleep?”

  “No.” I dropped my coins into the vending machine. “Don’t tell anyone you saw me buying potato chips at midnight.”

  The small size of the room didn’t allow Viktor much area to reach the door. To give him more space, I stepped closer to the machine.

  As he moved behind me, he put his hand on my arm. “Don’t worry, it’ll be our little secret.”

  His body brushed against mine, though he didn’t need to be so close. The stench of stale cigarette smoke and musky cologne filled my nostrils, staying with me after the door shut. My stomach turned and my mind raced. Aubrey and Marley always complained about Viktor’s temper and sternness but never any inappropriate behavior. You could have misinterpreted it. Don’t jump to conclusions.

  But my crawling skin was hard to ignore.

  Chapter Thirty

  Every day that passed without Sergei’s return brought more strain to my nerves and pain to my heart. His expedited Russian passport was in process but the delivery date uncertain. As a result, he spent Christmas with his parents for the first time in years.

  Although I was happy for Sergei to have time with his family, I shed more than a few tears during the holidays. I’d looked forward to exchanging gifts with him in front of the fireplace on Christmas Eve and sharing our first New Year’s kiss. We’d had to settle for marathon phone conversations and instant messaging on our laptops, neither of which could compare with being in each other’s arms.

  Less than a week into the New Year, I boarded a plane to Los Angeles for the National Championships. Our large traveling group from the Cape included Viktor and his students. I stayed as far away from him as possible during the trip, but if Sergei didn’t show up in time for our event, Viktor would have to stand in for him again, which I dreaded.

  I hadn’t told anyone about my encounter with Viktor at the Grand Prix Final. I didn’t want to start drama when I could’ve misread the vibes I’d felt from him. Bigger issues like making the Olympic team and helping Courtney and Mark win the novice title needed my attention.

  My young students started off the championships on a high note, winning the short program in convincing fashion. On the day of their free skate, I had to pull double duty–practice with Chris at the glitzy Staples Center followed by Courtney and Mark’s event at the older L.A. Sports Arena next door.

  At practice, Chris set me down from our star lift, and I stumbled as I looked up at the clock on the massive Jumbotron. He stopped in the middle of the ice.

  “You keep checking the time.” His tone dripped with irritation. “Don’t you have more than an hour to change and get over there?”

  “I’m just worried. The kids seemed really nervous at the warm-up this morning.”

  We stroked around the ice, hand-in-hand, passing three other teams jumping and spinning in unison. Chris scratched his head. “Why don’t we cut this practice short? You’re a little out of it anyway.”

  “No, I’m fine,” I huffed. “Let’s do the lutzes again.”

  I skated ahead of him, building up speed. He quickly caught up to me, and we flew down the rink. Simultaneous matching jumps followed, eliciting applause from the smattering of fans in attendance.

  “See?” I said. “I’m not out–”

  Before I could finish, my blade caught the boards, and I slipped sideways onto the ice. My thigh stung from the cold impact. Chris bent and offered his hands, while I wiped mine on my stretch pants.

  He raised an eyebrow. “What was that you were saying?”

  We left the ice with ten minutes remaining in the session, and I ran to the locker room to shower and change. Striving to look professional, I put on a rose-colored cashmere sweater and a pair of dressy black pants. In my heels, I raced next door and met Courtney and Mark stretching backstage.

  Throughout their warm-up and up until they took the ice, I reminded them how prepared they were. They did lots of nodding but remained quiet. In the seconds before their introduction, I fixed my eyes on theirs. They both had a deer-in-the-headlights look and stared at me as if I had the cure for their terror. I knew exactly how they felt and wished I had a magical pearl of wisdom to share.

  I held their gazes and squeezed their hands. “Have fun out there, and good things will happen.”

  They skated to center ice, and I glanced at the empty space beside me where Sergei should be standing. Sadness gripped me. He and I had worked with our young pair all season for this moment, and he was missing it. He was missing so much.

  Courtney and Mark began the program with tentative strokes, and on the opening double axels, Mark jerked awkwardly out of the landing. I clapped and shouted, “You’re okay! Keep your heads up!”

  The kids didn’t appear to hear me. Bobbles punctuated all their lifts and jumps, and they didn’t have the attack they’d shown all year. They were trying hard, but I could see the pressure of being the frontrunners weighing them down. They finished the program a few seconds behind the music, a fitting end to a free skate riddled with mistakes.

  I bowed my head and took measured breaths. I wanted to scream, not at Courtney and Mark, but at myself. They were capable of skating so much better, but I couldn’t let them see my disappointment. When they reached me, my throat tightened at their devastated faces.

  I engulfed them in hugs. Courtney started crying on my shoulder, and I patted her curly hair bun.

  “I’m sorry, Em,” she sniveled.

  “It’s okay. You’ll learn from this and you’ll be better because of it.”

  The resulting low scores were no surprise nor was Courtney and Mark’s drop from first to third place. I took them backstage and hugged them longer. Mark kept mumbling about the jumps he missed, while Courtney was too teary to speak. My cell rang, and I knew the caller without looking.

  Mark knew, too. “Sergei probably thinks we won.”

  “He’s going to be so disappointed,” Courtney said.

  I stopped the phone from chiming and put my arm around her. “I’m going to tell him how hard you guys fought today. You never gave up.”

  The phone rang twice more, but I ignored it so I could continue to console the kids. When they trudged toward the locker room, I answered the next call.

  “Where have you been? How’d they do?” Sergei asked.

  I pulled my hair back from my face and sighed. “They had a rough day. They got the bronze, though.”

  “What happened? They’ve been competing well and you said they’ve been having good practices.”

  “Nerves got to them.”

  “Didn’t you talk to them to help them feel confident?”

  His accusatory tone surprised me. I gave the chair in front of me a look of disbelief since Sergei wasn’t there. “Of course I talked to them,” I spat into the phone. “But I can’t control what they do on the ice. You know that.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m just going
crazy over here, not being able to help.”

  I sank onto the chair and watched the champions celebrate with their coach across the corridor. “It’s so tough when everyone expects you to win. They felt that pressure today.”

  “You’re feeling that pressure, too.” He must’ve heard the rising anxiety in my voice.

  “Yes.” I massaged the back of my neck. “Everyone’s practically put us on the Olympic podium already. I’m trying not to think about it, but . . .”

  “Maybe my news will help. I’m booked on a flight to L.A. on Wednesday.”

  I sucked in a breath. “You got your passport? You’ll make it in time for the short?”

  “I’ll be there.”

  ****

  He wasn’t there.

  An East Coast snowstorm cancelled Sergei’s connecting flight from New York. So, as Chris and I prepared to take the ice for our short program, Sergei sat in JFK Airport.

  I bounced up and down and adjusted one of the straps of my shimmering blue costume. The dress was sleek and resembled the top of an evening gown I’d seen in a department store. Sergei had been rendered speechless the first time I’d worn it. His admiring gaze had given me shivers and made me feel especially beautiful.

  The creepy look Viktor currently directed my way gave me shivers of the bad kind. I paced back and forth in the tunnel, cursing Mother Nature under my breath.

  “I can’t believe Sergei isn’t here,” I muttered to Chris.

  He took hold of my hands and said firmly, “We can do this without him.”

  I didn’t doubt his statement, but I missed the extra assurance I got just from looking into Sergei’s eyes. I shut mine and visualized his smiling and confident face.

  The arena buzzed with palpable energy when we glided onto the ice, and I knew our music would energize the crowd even more. The last thing Sergei had told me on the phone earlier was, “Just work it.” I took a deep breath and shimmied my shoulders, ready to give the program all the sassiness and spunk it deserved.