Life on the Edge

by Jennifer Comeaux

  ****

  Mom and Dad emerged from the Hyannis hotel’s small conference room, and I stopped pacing in the hallway to rush over to them. They’d been with Brian, the Ethics Committee Chairman, for an hour.

  “How did it go?”

  “I think it went well.” Dad wiped his glasses on his jacket. “His questions were fair, and we told him why we support Sergei as a part of both your personal and professional lives.”

  Mom slipped her arm around my waist. “You should’ve heard me singing Sergei’s praises.”

  “Brian said to send you in when you’re ready.” Dad kissed the top of my head.

  I closed my arms around my parents, drawing one final touch of comfort. I was the last person the chairman was going to talk to before he would report to the committee. Over the past two days, he’d conducted all his interviews and had spoken with Sergei at length.

  I entered the conference room and greeted Brian with a firm handshake. In his position as a judge, he knew me from competitions over the years. I’d always been a little intimidated by his snooty demeanor. With his beady eyes peering at me, I sat across from him in a matching swivel chair and smoothed my pencil skirt. He opened a plain manila folder on the round table between us, revealing a thin stack of typed pages.

  “David and Maria did a very thorough job when they interviewed you, so I don’t have any questions. I wanted to give you this opportunity to share any other information you thought the committee should know.” He pointed the tape recorder on the table toward me and pressed one of the buttons. “I’ll be recording your statement for them.”

  A mix of nervousness and adrenaline, similar to competition jitters, boosted my heart rate. I swallowed and returned Brian’s unblinking stare.

  “Before Sergei became my coach, my career was headed nowhere. You saw firsthand how I couldn’t handle the pressure of competition. But Sergei taught me how to overcome that. He’s inspired me with so much confidence and given me a sense of freedom on the ice. He found a strength in me I didn’t know existed.

  “I’ve been fortunate to not only have Sergei as my coach but also to work beside him. I see the thought and care he puts into every lesson and how the kids respond to him. He has a way of finding what makes each of his students special and teaching them to let it shine.

  “His work has never been compromised by his personal life. He asks us to give our best every day, and he does the same.”

  My eyes drifted to the recorder and back to Brian’s stoic expression. “I hope the committee will understand how important he is to so many people and allow him to continue to do what he does best–teach and inspire everyone around him.”

  I watched for some sign of empathy from Brian, but his face remained as blank as a sheet of ice and left me feeling just as cold. He waited a moment and asked, “Is that everything you’d like to say?”

  Satisfied I’d done all I could, I nodded. “Yes.”

  He shut off the recorder and shut the folder. “I appreciate your time, Emily.”

  He stood, and I did the same while extending my hand. “Thank you for the opportunity.”

  Mom and Dad met me outside with hugs, and I sighed. “He didn’t give any hint of what he might be thinking.”

  “I’m sure they’ll examine all our statements carefully.” Mom held me against her side.

  “Brian told Sergei he’s going to have a conference call with the committee this evening, and we can probably expect the ruling tonight.”

  “I wish we could wait with you, but we have to get back to campus for a meeting,” Dad said.

  “That’s okay. I’ll let you know when we get word.”

  I headed to Sergei’s apartment, and he welcomed me in from the damp, chilly afternoon, giving me a tender kiss and rubbing his warm hands over mine.

  “How was it?” he asked.

  “He didn’t ask any questions, so I just talked. If they really listen to what we all said, there shouldn’t be any doubt as to the right decision.” I tried to sound confident, but even though we’d done nothing wrong and had done everything in our power to prove it, nerves tightened my stomach. I took a steadying breath as Sergei wrapped his arms around me.

  “It’s going to be a long night,” he said.

  I eyed the stacks of CDs covering his coffee table. “Alphabetizing your music collection to stay busy?”

  “No, I thought we could try to find Courtney and Mark’s music for next season. Might help the time pass faster.”

  “Good idea.”

  I stepped out of my heels and padded over to the sofa. One by one, we went through the discs, listening to sonatas, concertos, operas, and movie soundtracks. Every time Sergei shuffled in a new CD, he peeked at his watch. We ordered takeout, but for once, Sergei didn’t polish off his half of the pizza and try to steal some of mine. He grew quieter the longer the night dragged on.

  I was reading aloud from my notepad, recapping the list of pieces we liked, when Sergei’s cell phone rang. He lurched forward and snatched the phone from the coffee table, toppling one of the CD stacks in the process. Cases flew all over the carpet. My heart felt like it was suspended in mid-air, ready to either burst into fireworks or free fall and crash to the earth.

  Sergei said hello, and after the caller spoke, he followed with, “Yes, I’ve been waiting anxiously.”

  I put my hand on his thigh and observed his face, willing a smile to appear. He listened intently, not giving me any indication of what Brian was saying.

  Finally, one part of him moved. His eyes closed, and when they opened moments later, they were moist. My fingers dug into his leg.

  “Thank you for addressing this so quickly.” He paused and answered, “Yes. Yes, I will.”

  The second he hung up, I blurted, “What did he say?”

  Sergei gently grasped my face. His eyes gleamed at me as the lamplight reflected off of his unshed tears.

  “He said I’m cleared.”

  Fireworks exploded within me, and I flung myself onto Sergei’s lap. “Yes!”

  He held me close as I laughed and cried at the same time.

  “Thank you,” he said hoarsely. “You made this happen.” He pressed his lips to mine, and my tears wet both our faces.

  “Brian said the support I received was incredible. Everyone’s statements provided indisputable evidence of my professionalism.”

  “I didn’t tell them what to say.” I smiled and wiped my eyes.

  “No, but you explained everything to them and asked them to speak for me. And I know whatever you said to Brian today also had a big impact.”

  I threaded my fingers through Sergei’s hair. “I just told him how amazing you are and how much we all need you.”

  “I am so lucky to be with you,” he whispered.

  He kissed me again, fuller and longer, and my body hummed with a powerful sensation. I didn’t think I could love Sergei more, but my heart pounded with new and even stronger feelings. Every kiss we shared spoke of the promise of our future. We stayed locked in an embrace, not wanting our celebration to end.

  ****

  After we shared the news at the rink the next day, Trevor threw together the party he’d wanted to give Chris and me since we’d returned from the Olympics. Sergei picked me up that night, and we headed to Trevor’s bungalow three towns away in Harwich. I blasted the radio in the car, bobbing in my seat to the music. Our friends and co-workers were going to see us as a couple for the first time.

  The front door to the cottage was cracked open, so we let ourselves in and shed our jackets on the overflowing coat rack next to the door. The buzz of voices and laughter streamed toward us from the den, and we followed the noise down the narrow hallway to the back of the house. A few heads turned when we walked through the low archway.

  Sergei reached over and took my hand, lacing his fingers through mine. His subtle gesture overwhelmed me with a range of emotions–from feeling like I could cry tears of joy to wanting to rip off his clothes.


  I squeezed his hand and looked up at him through my lashes. “Can I tell you a secret?”

  “What’s that?” he asked.

  I leaned close to his ear. “I am so hot for you right now.”

  He coughed, stifling a grin. “How long do we have to stay at this party?”

  I laughed, something I had done a lot the past twenty-four hours. Chris and Marley came up from behind us, plastic cups in hand.

  “It’s great to see you guys out,” Marley said. “We can go on double dates now!”

  “What makes you think I want to spend more time with this girl?” Chris made a face and poked my arm.

  I jabbed him back. “I’m already stuck with him for four more years. Isn’t that enough?”

  Chris couldn’t hold in his smile any longer, and I began laughing again. We hugged, and I kissed his cheek. Sergei and I started for the kitchen, but Courtney swooped in front of us, bouncing on the heels of her sneakers.

  “You two are so cute together!” she screeched. “Look, you even match!”

  We glanced at each other’s outfits. Sergei wore a black long-sleeved knit shirt and jeans, while I had on a black boatneck sweater, jeans, and high-heeled boots.

  “We did it just for you.” I pinched her pixie face.

  “We need to talk about the wedding, Em. You have to let me be a junior bridesmaid.”

  “Who else would I possibly ask?”

  She squealed and peppered us with more wedding questions before running off to the group of young skaters huddled near the back door. Trevor hooked me up with a soda in the kitchen, and Sergei and I mingled our way through the den.

  Aubrey popped up from the sofa. “Hey, Marley heard some scoop. The new dance coaches might be a married couple from California.”

  “Having a female perspective could be cool,” I said.

  “They’re Russian. Like we need more of those around.” Aubrey gave Sergei a toothy smile, and he laughed.

  I tilted my head up to him. “I’m pretty fond of my Russian.”

  He smiled and tightened his arm around my waist. “That’s good to know.”

  Once we’d chatted with almost all the guests, Sergei rested on the arm of the couch. I scooted between his knees and wound my arms around his neck, while he settled his hands on my hips.

  “This feels so good . . . being here with you like this,” he said.

  I grinned. “It’s kind of a rush, isn’t it?”

  He brushed a kiss on my lips. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  “I was thinking.” He twirled a lock of my hair around his finger. “Tomorrow night we could go to dinner and a movie, maybe drinks after.”

  “That sounds so ordinary.” I broke into a smile. “And so amazing.”

  About the Author

  Jennifer Comeaux

  earned a Master of Accounting from Tulane University and is a Certified Public Accountant in south Louisiana. While working for a Fortune 1000 company, she sought a creative outlet and decided to put on paper a story that had played in her head for years. That story became Life On the Edge, her first published novel.

  When not working or writing, she is an avid follower of the sport of figure skating, travelling to competitions around the country. Those experiences allow her to see another side of the sport and serve as an inspiration for her writing. Jennifer is blessed with a wonderful family and many friends who have encouraged her to pursue her dream of being a published author.

  Also from Astraea Press

  The red convertible cut a path through the moonlight, its headlights dancing along the arched limbs of the trees above the road.

  “Oh, Matt, it’s such a beautiful night,” Stacey declared with a sigh. “I’m going to miss you when you leave tomorrow.”

  Matt reached for her hand and brought it to his lips. “I’ll miss you too, but if I don’t report on time, I’m in trouble with the coach.”

  “That’s what I get for falling in love with a pro football player,” Stacey teased, her blonde hair turned to frosted silver by the light of the full moon above them.

  Matt squeezed her hand that wore his engagement ring. “It’s too late to back out now,” he teased. “You’re mine.”

  “Mmm, do I like the sound of that!”

  The car rounded a curve, and without warning a deer bounded across the road.

  “Look out!” Stacey screamed.

  Matt braked sharply to avoid the animal. The tires slid on a patch of loose gravel in the road, and he lost control of the convertible. It fishtailed and started to spin in the road.

  Matt hauled the steering wheel to correct the slide, but it was useless. The car turned around once more and skidded backwards for a short distance before it charged off the road. It jumped a steep ditch and went airborne. All Matt could see was a blur of trees and darkness as the car careened into the woods. It made a lazy turn in the air and came to rest bottom side up.

  The last thing he remembered was the sound of Stacey’s screams.

  ****

  Marilyn McCallum drew a deep, shaky breath and groped for her husband’s hand. “We’ve been waiting for hours now,” she quavered. “What could be going on in that operating room, Rod?”

  Rod never answered. His face contorted and he sprang to his feet as a nurse approached. “Would you like some more coffee?” she asked.

  “We’d like to know about our son,” Rod answered. “Is everything okay? He’s been in there so long.”

  Nurse Whittaker patted him on the shoulder. “Please, don’t worry. Dr. Williams is the best doctor on staff. He’ll do everything he can.”

  As she bustled away, Stacey Thomas, who sat beside Marilyn, dropped her head into her hands. Marilyn tried to ignore the smear of blood across the girl’s back. She swallowed hard against sudden nausea. Stacey was fine even though Matt’s fate was still up in the air. “Hang on. It can’t be long now.”

  Tears slid down Stacey’s face. “This isn’t the way the day was supposed to end. Matt and I had a beautiful time, but now…”

  A tall man in sweat-stained surgical scrubs approached them. “Mr. and Mrs. McCallum?” The doctor’s voice brought all three of them to their feet.

  “How is he?” begged Marilyn, her eyes anxious, wide, and staring in her white face.

  “Better than I expected,” the doctor admitted. “His left leg was mangled from the knee down. It took a long time, but I think we’ve saved it. He has four screws and two plates, and he’ll undoubtedly have a limp for the rest of his life, but we did save his leg.”

  “He kicks with his right leg anyway,” Rod muttered.

  “Ah, well, that’s the other thing I wanted to talk to you about. I’m sorry, Mr. McCallum. I saw him play last year, so I know he had a wonderful career in front of him, but in spite of everything we did, his right leg was hurt too bad to save. We had to amputate right above his knee.”

  “At least he’s alive,” Marilyn sobbed as she rhythmically shredded a tissue. “I don’t care about his leg; I just want my son to live.”

  “I can almost promise you he will,” the doctor comforted her. “Barring unforeseen complications, he’s going to be fine, and as soon as his leg heals we’ll fit a prosthesis on him and teach him how to walk again.”

  “When can we see him?” Marilyn begged as she wiped away her tears.

  “He’s in Recovery now. We plan to put him in ICU until he’s stable. The last thing we need is an infection, and we can watch him better there. We’ll let you know as soon as he gets there. Then you can see him for a minute.”

  Rod groped for the sofa and fell backwards onto the miserable thing. “The best kicker in thirty years,” he whispered, quoting what a sports announcer had said on TV only hours earlier. “The best kicker in thirty years, and now they have to teach him to walk again.”

  He jumped up as if he’d sat on a porcupine. “I’m going home, Marilyn. Are you coming?”

  Marilyn’s eyes bugged. “Are you ser
ious? I’m not leaving until I’ve seen him.”

  “Stacey?”

  “I… I’ll… go with you. I need to tell my parents Matt’s out of surgery.”

  Marilyn watched in amazement as Rod and Stacey hurried away and sat back to continue her vigil alone.

  ****

  Matt awoke early the next morning because the dull, aching pain in his legs made him sick to his stomach. Must have been one rough practice, he thought. He didn’t much want to get up yet. He still felt tired out and kind of …heavy. Yeah, that was it; he felt heavy. Too heavy in fact to bother opening his eyes, but Stacey was holding his hand, so he forced himself to wake up.

  A short, round, little woman, not Stacey, held his wrist. The way she looked at her watch he decided she must be taking his pulse. Where was he? What had happened to him?

  He had to clear his throat before he could speak. “Who are you?” he croaked.

  She beamed at him as if he had done something wonderful. “Oh, you’re awake now. I’m Nurse Whitaker. How do you feel?”

  “I’m tired, and my legs hurt. Where am I?”

  “You had a car accident last night, Mr. McCallum.” She pulled a sheet and a thin white blanket across his chest. “You’re in the hospital.”

  “Stacey…”

  “Your girlfriend is fine. Don’t worry about her.”

  Matt closed his eyes for a moment and rubbed his throbbing temples. “I don’t remember what happened.”

  “That’s normal. You may never remember everything.”

  Matt tried to sit up, but he couldn’t muster enough energy. “What’s wrong with me? Why is it so hard to sit up?”

  “Oh, that’s because of the medication we gave you to help you rest.” She patted his arm and checked an IV that he hadn’t noticed until she touched it. “We didn’t want you tossing and turning all night.”

  “What’s wrong with me?” he repeated.

  “Shh, don’t worry about that now. The doctor can talk to you later when you feel better.”

  Matt didn’t like the blank expression on the nurse’s face at all. I must be hurt pretty bad. “No, tell me now,” he insisted.