by Sara Shirley
“I’m so sorry,” I say to the man, not yet making eye contact as I drop down to retrieve my stuff off the ground.
“Here, let me help you with that,” he says in a very suave Irish accent.
Peering up from my crouched position, I see the face attached to the voice and stand quickly. “Oh my God! Oh my God! You’re. You’re. Shit!” Nice, Emily. Find the words, dipshit.He hands me a couple of my belongings and asks, “Name’s Jamie, and you are?”
He’s asking who you are. Speak! “Oh-uh, I’m Emily. Sorry for running into you. The camera flashes blinded me for a second. At least I know they aren’t here for me. They’re stalking you,” I say as cool as I can without acting too nervous. Seriously, I skate in front of thousands, and I’m nervous about this.
I hear my mother say from the revolving door, “Emily, we have a schedule.”
“I’ve got to get going. It was nice meeting you,” I say, trying in every way possible not to mentally undress him right now.
“Thanks, it was nice to meet you, too. Take care, Emily,” he replies before stepping into the back of a black tinted sedan.
I can’t wait to tell Courtney and Sue what just happened. A sudden feeling of pleasure overwhelms me just thinking of finally having friends with whom I can share my experiences. I’ll never know how or why it happened the way that it did, but to just have them now means the world to me.
Stepping into the lobby of the hotel, I see my mother at the registration desk, finishing our check-in. She eyes the concierge to ensure that our luggage arrives to the proper rooms. Once she notices me, she strides over to hand me my room key.
“Emily, I entrust you are aware of your training schedule the next few days before the short program Thursday? I emailed you all the details and times in case you should forget.” I want to tell her that I’d like for her to forget to run my life for just one day.
My hands curl into fists, and my back goes rigid as I respond with as much sarcasm as I can muster, “Yes, Mother. I will try not to cause too much trouble while I’m cooped up in my room.”
Leaning over toward me, she says, “Emily, dear, it would behoove you to speak nicer to your mother. I don’t care for your tone of voice.”
“Really, Mother? What ‘tone’ would that be? Sarcasm? Contempt? Because if you’re talking about bitchiness, just take a good look in the mirror.”
I never saw it coming. The sting to my cheek was the telltale sign of her hand connecting with my face. She just slapped me in the lobby of the hotel, and people are staring in our direction.
“The next time you speak to me that way, I will inform your father of your recent behavior,” she says quietly with a look of superiority.
“Perhaps Daddy would also like to know his wife just publicly abused America’s top contender for a gold medal at the Olympics. Considering the number of cameras out on the front sidewalk and the glass doors, you can almost be certain one of them just caught your little act.” I begin walking away confidently, but not before turning back to her. “Maybe, as my manager, you ought to go out there and give a statement on my behalf. You know, before they run video of your slap to my face on the six o’clock news.”
Halfway to the elevators, I realize I need to confirm my ride to the rink with the concierge. Making my way back toward the counter, I notice my mother standing outside on the phone. Hiding behind a column, I force myself to listen in on her conversation. “Charles, cameras caught me slapping her across the face. How do you want me to handle this? Yes. Well, I can’t see any other way to play the story. If you think it would be best, I will turn the story into tomorrow’s newest headline. You know I can handle it. I’ve been dealing with your infidelity for years. This will be no different. She’ll never know anything. She may be rebelling, but I’ve still got her under my thumb.” After hearing enough of my parents’ repulsive plans, I need to get away, quick.
I never look back. I walk with purpose to the elevator and press the button for my floor. Once I enter my suite, my legs give out below me as I sink to the floor and cry. I will not let them ruin me. I’m twenty-two years old. I need to do this. They can’t control me all my life. They can’t. Screaming at the top of my lungs, I gather my strength and move into the room. I need to talk to someone. I want to call Jeremy so badly right now, to hear him tell me to fight for what I want. I know I can’t do that. Unlocking my phone, I pull up the number of the next best thing and hit Call.
I hear the line pickup on the other end. “Hello.”
“Grace, it’s Emily. Do you have time to talk?” I sob between the words.
“Sweetie, what’s wrong? Are you crying? What happened? Tell me what’s going on; I’m here to listen if you need me.”
Proceeding to explain the events that ultimately led to where I am today, I give Grace all the details. She remembers vaguely how my mother was and still is. Apparently, she witnessed one of her infamous yelling sprees at the Forum when I was a kid. She said she thought it was the same day Jeremy accidentally ran into me. God, that was so long ago. So many years have passed, and nothing has changed with her controlling my life. If anything, it’s become worse. When I tell her my mother slapped me across the face and has recently threatened my father’s business power over my head, she is shocked. She can’t understand how parents can be that insensitive and cruel to their own flesh and blood.
“Grace, what do I do? I feel as though I’m stuck in quicksand and can’t get out.” I wipe the tears from my cheeks as I sit at the desk, tapping a pen to the hotel notepad with my hand.
“Emily, I know we have only just met, but knowing you trust me enough to tell me this, tells me how much you need friends on your side. I don’t mean that in a bad way, dear. I only mean that I believe you have the strength in you to make the right choices with our help. You’re just a little lost, and we’re here to help if you need us, all of us.”
“Have you talked to Jeremy?” I know I have to ask, but I’m uncertain of her reaction.
“I have. I’ve also told him the same thing I’ve told you. Take the time apart to see what your hearts want. He’s hanging in there, too. I can tell he misses you desperately, and he’s upset. He’s talked to his father much more than me the past few nights, but he’ll be home on Sunday. I’ll talk to him more then.”
“Grace, I know you told me not to be in touch with him, but can you please tell him I will talk to him when I get home on Monday, and that I’m fighting the best I can right now?”
“I’ll give him your message when I hear from him. You should also know when he called last week, he mentioned he watched your skating programs, as did we, and we couldn’t be more proud of you winning gold. I believe Jeremy said he saw a fire in your eyes, and he knew you’d take gold.”
“I miss him so much. Is it weird to tell you that?”
“It’s not weird; you’re just not accustomed to expressing your feelings. It will all come in time. That’s why having this opportunity to figure yourself out is so gratifying. I am already noticing how much more open you have become.”
“How can you tell?” I ask her as I try to remember times where she could have seen me like this.
“Sweetie, instead of trying to handle the burden of your mother’s behavior, you called someone. When you realized your error with Jeremy, you reached out for guidance, and you asked Courtney to check in on Sue to see if she was okay. All those things show me you’re willing to help others just as much as you’re trying to help yourself.”
“I’m really trying, Grace. I just don’t know if it’s hard enough.”
“You’ll be fine. Focus on this week’s competition, and when you get back, we’ll celebrate Jeremy’s birthday along with your wins.”
“Wins? How do you know I’ll win this weekend? I haven’t even skated the short program yet.”
“We all know you’ll win because you’re going to get yourself up, realize you’re strong and determined, and when you step on that ice, the end result will be the o
ne thing your heart wants the most.”
Jeremy. He’s my gold.
“Thank you for talking to me, and tell everyone thank you for the support. I’ll see you next week, fingers crossed.”
“You’ll see me. Don’t worry. Well, unless I’m dressed up as Casper. Goodnight, Emily,” she says with soft laughter in her voice.
“Goodnight, Grace.”
I’m back on the bus again, but this time, I’m finally heading home from Scranton, Pennsylvania. Thank fuck! I need my own bed, shower, and most of all, Emily. I know. Everyone is sick of me saying it. I was called a pussy when Dylan and Bryce tried to get me to go out for dinner Saturday night, but turned them down to watch Emily on TV. When I talked to Josh last night, he literally groaned over the phone when I mentioned her name for the millionth time. Everyone is over having Sunday dinner when I call on the way home after the game. Mom can’t stop talking about watching Emily on TV Saturday night, and I hear Courtney say something in the background about not mentioning anything about a front-page picture. I’m not sure what she is talking about, and when I ask Mom about it, she becomes really evasive. When she tells me she’ll explain when I get home Monday morning, I have to find out immediately.
After hanging up the phone with her, I pull out my tablet to see what picture she could be talking about. It has to involve Emily somehow. I pull up Google and type “Emily Cameron” to see if anything comes up. Scrolling through, I don’t see much other than a couple of articles here and there about her recent competitions and interviews. Then, I click on Images and see what they were talking about. I enlarge the image, and it fills the entire screen. I pull up the article to read the headline, “Fifty Shades Star & Ice Princess: Secret Romance Revealed?”
Staring at my tablet in disbelief, I slip and say, “Are you fuckin’ kidding me?” Dylan and Bryce lean over the top of the seats to see what is pissing me off. Both of them say there is no way it could be real because Emily doesn’t seem like the type.
As I read the article, it reveals that Emily was dropped off at a hotel and quickly turned into the arms of the up-and-coming actor. A statement from Victoria Cameron is included, declaring she neither confirms nor denies her daughter’s relationship with the actor. When asked how Victoria felt about her daughter being involved with a married man and ultimately trying to break up the Dornan family, she stated that her daughter is old enough to make her own decisions, and should she get involved with a married man, then she has to be an adult and face the outcomes.
I almost throw the tablet across the bus until Bryce takes it from my hands. Running my hands through my hair in agitation, I know I have to get off the bus and fast. It will be another few hours before we pull into Manchester, and I can get home. Even then, Emily won’t be back until Monday night. Mom knows when Emily is due to come home, but won’t tell me until I’m settled. I send Courtney a text after I see the picture and article. She assures me it is purely coincidental, and Emily called Mom right after the incident to talk to her about something else, but that isn’t her story to tell.
I want to call Emily and ask her how her hands ended up on this guy’s chest on the cover of a tabloid magazine, but I think better of the idea. She’s finally coming home after three weeks, and she totally kicked ass at both competitions. Her scores from Skate Canada were even higher than Skate America. With two gold medals under her belt, she’s proving to be a tough one to beat this year. I want to wrap my arms around her and tell her how proud I am of her, but we’ve got to sit down and have a heart-to-heart at some point about where we are after the Avery Invasion and now her cover story.
It’s almost one in the morning by the time we pull into the parking lot in Manchester, New Hampshire. I’m exhausted and ready to get home. I finally managed to get about two hours of sleep on the bus, so I’m ready for the commute home. As we stand in the parking lot waiting for all the bags to be unloaded from the bus, Coach calls a brief huddle before we’re released. He tells us it’s been a long few weeks and to not report to morning skate until Wednesday. He follows with a quick congratulations on coming off the road trip with a record of 6-2, and he’s happy with how the team is progressing this season. Quick and painless. Thank God because it’s cold as all hell outside and blowing hot air onto my hands isn’t helping anymore.
Once I find my bag, I’m back at my truck almost instantly. I wait for it to warm up before heading toward Route 93. On the highway, I see nothing but stars in the sky, immediately thinking of Emily and the first morning I drove here almost two months ago. I haven’t heard her voice since she told me she needed time to figure things out with us. Mom says she’s talked to her and for me not to worry. I’m relieved that my mom seems to be playing the mediator role in all of this. She cares for Emily; if she didn’t, she would have already told me to move on.
Checking the clock, it’s almost two now. If she’s still in Vancouver, it’s early enough that she might be up. I can’t help but wonder what’s she’s doing at the moment. Fuck it! Plugging my phone into the charger, I turn on the Bluetooth and say “Emily.” A dial tone echoes through the cabin. On the fourth ring, I’m ready to leave a voicemail until I hear a soft, groggy voice come over the speaker.
“Hello.”
“Hi, it’s me,” I say just above a whisper.
“Jeremy?”
“Should I not have called? I thought it was still early in Vancouver, and I really couldn’t wait to talk to you,” I quickly shoot out while squeezing the steering wheel nervously.
“I’m not in Vancouver. I’m at home. I decided to leave Sunday morning instead.”
“So, I just woke you up is what you’re saying? I’m already scoring major points here.”
“Jeremy, what is so important that you need to call me at two in the morning?” I hear her yawning on her end.
“I miss you and your voice. I can’t take not talking to you one more day. The minute I got in my truck to drive home I figured that my mom couldn’t yell at me for calling since technically I’m home. Plus, I need to apologize for everything. I know you never read my texts or listened to my voicemails from that night, so I’ll tell you now. After all this time apart, I still fuckin’ love you. I just hope you find it in your heart to love me back.”
“Can you come over?” she pleads.
“Absolutely.”
“What I have to say I need to say to your face.”
I wonder what she needs to talk to me about face-to-face at this time of night. “I’m not sure I like the sound of that, but if you want me to come over, I’ll be there as fast as I can.” How can I ever deny her what she wants despite the growing uneasiness in my stomach?
“I’ll open the garage door. Just pull in the open stall and come upstairs.”
“Okay, I’ll see you in about twenty minutes.”
“See you soon.”
After taking home the gold at Skate Canada, I had mentally had enough. I changed my flight and hopped on a red-eye home. Mother wasn’t happy when I called her from the airport and said I was leaving. Once the picture of Jamie Dornan and me hit the tabloids, I somehow thought my mother could be involved after our hotel incident. I was right. I never thought she’d stoop that low when it came to slandering the Cameron name. It turned out the tabloid picture boosted people’s interest in me, therefore, helping sales. It figures my parents would consider using me in a scandal for their own benefit. The cameras held firm outside the hotel until the story blew over, but I only focused on winning the competition and getting home.
Pulling myself out of bed, I head downstairs to open the garage stall for Jeremy. As much as I know I should wait to talk to him, it’s been three weeks, and I need to see him and touch him. Grace wanted me to figure out where my head and heart were during our time apart. In more ways than none, I think I knew where my heart was before I even left. It was my head that needed to get figured out.
About ten minutes later, I hear the truck pulling into the stall and the garage door closing
. A nervous feeling spreads over my body as I make my way around the kitchen trying to make myself a cup of chamomile tea. His footsteps up the stairs are fast and loud, and the soft knock on the door tells me it’s time to face the music. I turn the knob slowly, opening the door to see his forlorn face staring back at me.
“Hi, come on in,” I mutter as I turn, walking back toward the stove where the teakettle is beginning to whistle. Grabbing a mug from the cabinet, I look back at him and hold it up, silently asking if he wants one as well. He shakes his head no as he sits on the sofa. Pouring the steaming water over the teabag, I wait for it to finish steeping before joining opposite him on the sofa.
We sit silently for what seems like forever. My nails tapping the side of my mug is the only sound in the room. Why is this so difficult? It should be simple to talk to the person you love. This feels as though everything we worked toward before we left is all gone, like we’re strangers again. I take a quick sip of my hot tea before placing it onto the coffee table in front of me. Jeremy still doesn’t saying anything; he just sits with his head down and his hands folded over his knees. Is this it? Is this really goodbye? Please say something, anything. I fight back the tears that begin to cloud my vision before covering my mouth with my hand. Jeremy glances in my direction, noticing the change in my expression and comes over to my side. As I shake my head, he pulls me into his chest as a few tears slide down my face.
“I’m so sorry. I never should have left things the way I did. Had I just talked to you this whole thing could have been avoided,” I say between sobs.