by Lisa Luciano
Dale tugged at the ends of his sleeves one last time, closed his eyes, and settled into his starting position. With his good arm extended over his head and his leg jutting out behind him, his body formed a seamless line that appeared longer than it did moments before. He took in one final breath until his lungs could hold no more, then released it. The last cloud had finally blown away and all that stood before him was a blazing artificial sun bathing him with an energy he had never known before.
He knew, as did everyone in the room, that he was an all or nothing performer. Either he would hit his jumps with dazzling precision or crash to the ice in a ball of flames. It left the judges little room for indecision, but unlike most of the others, even when the technique lay in scattered ruins, the beauty remained.
He expected a struggle. Instead, he skated as if possessed by a gentle spirit lovingly lifting him into the air and setting him down. It was easy, so very easy, and if nothing else, he knew that if it never happened again, he would remember that night always. It was inside of him as was the memory of his friend.
The crowd cheered as he completed his sixth triple jump. He was nearly home free. He should have been exhausted. To his surprise, his performance was gaining momentum. He was the shortest man there, yet his stretch seemed to extend beyond his fingers and toes. The delicate melody didn’t encircle him, it dwelled within him. It flowed through every sinew and bone. It raised him up as his elegant movements elevated the audience, making them believe they too could reach up and touch a star.
Perhaps it was because Dale didn’t feel the weight of the world on his shoulders as some of the others did. He was an afterthought and knew it, trampled in the media stampede directed at the favorites. Less than five minutes later, the magic that can’t be planned, but is plain when it appears, had occurred. For the first time in his life, he was in control. He had done every jump he was capable of. Maybe it wasn’t as much as some of the others had to offer, but it was everything he could do.
He finished and dashed off the ice without looking at his coach or his marks, frantically searching instead for something that wasn’t there. And suddenly, he knew it never would be again.
Oh God, no. Not now, Dale thought as a reporter rushed up to him.
“Helluva skate,” he said, wielding his hand-held recorder like a loaded pistol. “Anything to say about what happened to your teammate?”
“It’s a great personal and professional loss to everyone who knew him… now will you shut that goddamn thing off!”
The forty-year-old man reluctantly pressed a button and shoved the device into his jacket pocket.
“Just between you and me, even though he liked yanking our chains, I really admired the guy,” the reporter said casually.
Pinned up against the wall, Dale could find no immediate means of escape. He’d been through worse. He could endure a few minutes more.
“I mean, he’s one of the few people I’ve come across in this sport with real balls,” the man continued.
Dale smiled, remembering TJ’s comment in the hotel room a month earlier.
“If you don’t hang your nuts out to dry every now and then, why have ‘em?”
“He didn’t give a damn what anybody thought. He was fearless. He knew the system didn’t approve of him, but it didn’t stop him from being who he was.”
“Yes,” Dale said, the reporter’s words revitalizing him as if he’d taken a deep breath of cool mountain air. “I suppose that’s a lesson we all need to learn.”
Robby headed through the tunnel, making a final check of his costume. The white silk shirt unbuttoned to the middle of his chest was spotless and without a crease. A fitted dusty rose vest hung down over the waistband of his matching pants, lending a seamless line to his body. He looked the part. Now all he had to do was live it.
Normally, Carol would follow a few steps behind, but without warning, she ran in front of him and blocked his path.
“You don’t have to go out there,” she said, shocking everyone including herself. “What?” he asked. “You don’t have to prove anything to me or anyone else. You’ve already done that by coming back. Seeing a gold medal around your neck won’t make me any prouder than I am right now. If you want to walk out the door, I’ll be right behind you. I won’t feel cheated, because as far as I’m concerned, we’ve already won.”
He was stunned, but her words gave him the courage to speak.
“I don’t deserve to win…”
“That’s ridiculous,” she insisted.
“Let me finish. I don’t deserve to win because I’m good or because I’ve worked hard or because I want it so much. Everybody does. But I do deserve to be happy. Do you know what’ll make me happy?” he said, his sparkling jade eyes searching hers. “To skate well just because I want to. I’ve spent years worrying about the judges, the other skaters, my…” He dropped his head forward. “Well, I don’t care about them anymore. I don’t even care about winning. It’s easy to win. What takes guts is to know you might lose and to go out there anyway. He paused long enough to put on the time to get down to business face Carol knew so well. I’m going out there.”
She looked deep into his eyes and for the first time in many years saw the little boy who wasn’t afraid of anything because he knew he could conquer the world. As she embraced him, he could feel her energy flow into him. It was like the arms of everyone he cared about were squeezing him until he could barely breathe.
“Hey. Robby. Hold on,” Glenn called as he awkwardly sprinted in his skates to catch up.
Robby couldn’t imagine what he wanted. One last head game?
“Okay. I think I’ve figured out what the judges are going to do,” Glenn said.
No. I don’t want to think about this. I never have before. It doesn’t matter, Robby told himself.
“Here it is,” Glenn continued, leaning in like a commander consulting his troops. “They’re going to vote along political lines. We know that. Now you can probably count on the American, British, and Japanese judges. They all like your style. But you need five to win. You know who the Canadian and three Soviets are going to go with. That leaves France and Switzerland.”
“Oh crap,” Robby said, his shoulders falling.
“What?”
“Montagne’s hated my guts since I beat their champion for the world junior title. It’s been eight years and he’s never given me a first place ordinal.”
“Then it has to be the Swiss judge who comes through for you.”
Robby had no idea, but she already had.
“That’s only four,” he said.
“Yeah, well, you never know what could happen,” Glenn insisted, looking no more optimistic than Robby. “Bottom line. Those bastards can give you the gold medal or they can take it away, but that’s all.”
Glenn turned and retreated to await his turn in the lion’s cage.
Robby should have been euphoric. He had a second chance to redeem himself. As he pushed aside the black curtains leading to the ice, which were the only things now separating him from his destiny, he felt like a condemned man walking the last mile.
This is it. Everything you’ve worked for. Your reputation. Your place in history. It’s all on the line. And finally, they’re all going to know you’re a screw up.
His brain was on fire. He stepped onto the ice and heard the gate close behind him with a deafening thud.
No. You can do this. Yo’uve done it a million times before. Trust your body. Trust your training. Trust… yourself. Do it. Do it. Do it.
He stood at what seemed like the center of the galaxy and emptied his mind, leaving only the image of a rose. Yesterday was gone. Everything was now. Then one errant thought made a quick appearance. It was something Paige had said during their last practice session.
“No matter what the results, know that after you skate this program, you’ll never be the same person again.”
Until that moment, he didn’t know what she had meant. Now he did. A boy ha
d practiced and prepared, but only a man could skate this performance and win.
Backstage, Glenn paced and shook his hands with friends and strangers alike until his wrists ached. His coach approached.
“It’s time,” Forsythe said.
“No. Robby hasn’t even started. And Dimitri—”
“That’s not what I mean.”
He stepped back. Behind him stood Kylie in a simple white dress, glowing like a beacon on a moonless night.
“Am I too late?” she asked.
Glenn shook his head, wondering what he had done for such a glorious creature to have come into his life.
“You’re just in time,” he said as he walked over and took her by the hands. “Marry me.”
“Here? Now?” she said, not believing her ears and wondering how many cameras would pounce on them from around the corner.
None appeared.
“Why not?” he asked.
“You’re crazy.”
“If you say yes, so are you. We’ll be a perfect pair.”
Her smile told him all he needed to know.
“Phil,” he said, calling to his friend who was always nearby and who Glenn considered a life-sized good luck charm. “I need a favor. You still have that mail order minister’s license?”
“Yeah. It’s a great tax shelter.”
“Never mind that. Is it for real?”
“Sure.”
“Then it’s time you earned that write off. Come on.”
The din of the crowd subsided. Robby’s music began. His first jump was stiff, but without a detectable flaw.
That’s one. Relax.
He focused on his next move, the essential triple axel-triple toe combination. If he missed it, his dream of winning was over.
Strong. Fast. Come on. Speed. Up, then out.
He took exactly eight strokes. One or two less and he would lose his edge and have to do an extra turn to save the landing or fall out of the jump completely. He had measured the length of the rink a dozen times in his mind. He knew how much space he had and how much he needed. If he couldn’t count on this, he couldn’t count on anything… or anyone. It had to work.
He kicked high into the air, most of his body rising above the boards. He was concentrating too hard to hear a massive gasp from the stands. Down. Clean. He dug the toe of his blade into the ice behind him.
Tight. Pull it in.
He crossed his arms and jammed his fists against his chest. Three more solid revolutions. The screams of the crowd told him what he already knew. He’d completed the hardest combination of the night. Now it was time for the tough part. To bare his soul.
They don’t make robots Olympic champions, Carol once said to Robby after a technically proficient, but passionless performance many years ago, desperately hoping her brutal honesty would shake something loose inside of him.
If he couldn’t do it now, perhaps it didn’t exist. He had to find out. It was the only frontier he hadn’t yet conquered. Carol and Paige had seen it in practice. It was time to share it with the world who he was keenly aware was looking over his shoulder.
As if building a house of cards, he began the process of recreating himself. One mistake or disingenuous move and it would all come tumbling down. But he wasn’t relying on fate or luck. He had prepared. All he had to do was put it out there.
Through each gesture and facial expression he became the perfect, yet elusive lover for every woman in the audience. For the men, he transformed himself into the spirit of romance they could only envy. But he refused to let it be all fluff and no grit. Every seductive movement of his body was matched with a razor sharp spin or crackling jump. It was a complete package with no seams and no gaps. The precision and definition of each move lifted him high off the ice, and in doing so, conveyed a benediction upon all who witnessed it.
Nearing the end, there was a slight bobble on one jump. It was almost imperceptible to the naked eye, but something the judges could use as ammunition to hold him down. To his complete shock, he didn’t care and didn’t have a clue why not. If he had looked, he would have seen that the normally grim panel was as caught up in the moment as everyone else, but he couldn’t. He had to finish and knew not to take even the simplest move for granted. He didn’t.
When it was over, Robby had brought Paige’s choreography to life, fulfilled every wish Carol ever had for his technical ability, and now finally, he had pleased himself. Only when the last note of the music that so beautifully portrayed the glory and agony of love at its ultimate finally faded did he realize how utterly exposed he was. He had emptied himself and just as quickly the audience filled him with shrieks of delight and gratitude for his unbridled generosity. He had painted a loving portrait of his world, reached out his hand, and drew them into the canvas, if only for a few brief, miraculous moments.
Judges feverishly calculated and TV announcers scrambled into position to snare him as soon as he collected the ocean of flowers streaming onto the ice. Carol’s heart pounded like a runaway train. She took a quick look at Montagne, but couldn’t tell anything from his expression.
Robby’s arms were so filled with bouquets, Carol couldn’t see his face as he stepped off the ice. As soon as several volunteer helpers relieved him of his gifts and placed them safely off to the side, Carol and Robby hugged. Neither wanted to let go of the moment, but had no choice when a man in a conservative suit, looking extremely indignant over the delay, pulled them apart and guided them to the waiting area.
“I just realized something,” Robby said as he struggled to catch his breath. “For the first time in my life, I’m satisfied. I wasn’t perfect and it’s okay. I could never go out there and do something and say that’s good enough even when it was. But for once… it is.”
Paige had purposely been hanging back. He pulled her onto the couch beside him. Carol took a seat on his other side. Together, they had created this moment. Together, they would await the marks. Suddenly, Carol felt ashamed.
Though she regularly feigned optimism for Robby’s sake, she’d never really had faith in anything. All her life she had felt the need to manipulate because it was what the people around her insisted was the only way she could guarantee the desired outcome. Worst of all, she had not allowed Robby to grow up and assumed he never would. It wasn’t until he did, all on his own, that she realized it couldn’t have happened any other way. She hoped he understood and forgave her.
Carol and Paige locked their arms around Robby’s waist as he gulped down the orange juice offered by one of the teenaged hostesses. The wait was interminable. Carol tried not to take that as a bad sign. She scanned the judges faces, but could read nothing there.
Ralph Ratner was equally interested in what the panel of nine was about to do. The delay concerned him.
“You think they’re going to pull something?” his assistant asked as he felt the floor of the arena rock with the stomping of feet and the chants of 6.0!.
“Could be,” Ralph said, one arm folded across his chest, the other stroking his chin. “There’ve been rumblings since we came in and took over. Hopefully, they wouldn’t be foolish enough to spoil our plans just to try to show us they still control their pathetic little sport.”
“And if they do?”
“Nothing to worry about. I’ve still got one ace in the hole.”
“Well, what can you say?” the announcer asked Brigitta who had not spoken a word throughout Robby’s performance and had cast a look at her partner that suggested if he valued his life he would follow suit.
“He gave everything he had to give… maybe for the first time.”
“Is it enough to win?”
“We’ll have to see. I believe the performance speaks for itself.”
“And it seems the judges were listening,” he said, staring at his monitor showing the highest scores of the night.
“You know,” Robby said as he, Carol, and Paige drank in the screams of approval cresting around them. “The last time, the hardest
thing about losing was that I thought everybody believed I deserved to come in second. When I reinstated, I was afraid if I won, the world would think, Oh, he just waited his turn. All I want is for people to know how much I love what I do.”
Carol rubbed her hand across his back and accidentally brushed Paige’s fingertips doing the same.
“They know.”
And she knew something more. If everyone received the marks they deserved, Robby would win. From that moment on, everything would change. Somewhere in her heart she knew that in order to obtain the one thing he wanted so badly, she would have to give up the one thing she cherished. Him. He would belong to the world. She was more sure of that than anything she’d ever known as she watched Robby stand and wave to the audience that was still on its feet chanting his name.
Carol did a quick calculation of the numbers in her head. He was in first place. She wanted to enjoy it, but knew not to anticipate anything. There were still two more good skaters to go. Robby retreated to the locker room. He hoped to run into Glenn to thank him for his unexpected support and wish him luck, but he was nowhere to be found.
“You really know how to treat a lady,” Philip said as he, Glenn, and Kylie concluded the quick wedding ceremony, crammed into a maintenance closet.
“What else?” Glenn asked as he wiped sweat from his brow.
“How am I supposed to know? I’ve never done this before.” Terror crossed Philip’s face. “Oh crap. We forgot the rings. Hang on.”
He opened the door a crack, took a look, then sprinted down the hall. Glenn and Kylie were glad for the time alone together.
“Are you sorry you said yes?” he asked.
“Ask me again in about fifty years,” Kylie said just before pressing her lips to his. Philip barged back in holding two cans of soda.
“Here,” he said, thrusting one at Glenn.
“The toast comes after were finished, dufus. We still have no rings,” Glenn reminded him.
Philip held the can aloft, popped the top, and yanked off the tab.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” Glenn said.