Fighting for the Edge (28 page)

She spotted Marley and Chris sitting across from one another, deep in conversation, so she headed in the opposite direction. She hoped Marley wouldn’t tell Chris she’d been upset over how things went down between them. Their interactions were already uncomfortable enough without adding pity to the mix.

She snaked between the tables and came upon a couple of seats next to some athletes in Japanese team jackets. They were all laughing and speaking loudly in their language.

“Hello.” She smiled and nodded to the two girls and two guys as she sat.

They all nodded and greeted her in return. The guy with spiky black hair examined her with one eyebrow bent. “I guess… you are figure skater.”

“You guess right. Which sport are you?”

“We are speed skater.”

She uncapped her water bottle. “Awesome. I love watching speed skating.”

“There she is,” a familiar annoying voice said behind her. “My favorite ice dancer.”

She closed her eyes and wished for the power to teleport out of the dining room and clear across the Village. Or maybe the ability to turn into a fly and buzz her way past Damien’s head.

He came around the table and eased into the chair across from her. His dark hair curled over the high collar of his red and white Team Canada jacket, and he wore an irritatingly huge grin.

“Ms. Aubrey London,” he said, resting his forearms on the table. “How have you been?”

“I was marvelous a minute ago and I’ll be marvelous again if you leave.”

His hand went to his heart… as if he actually had one. “Why can’t we get back the vibe we had in Paris? We were so hot together.”

Anger and shame burned its way onto her cheeks and up to her scalp. The Japanese skaters watched them curiously, and she hoped their English wasn’t very good.

“I don’t remember any part of that night,” she seethed. “How many times do I have to tell you to leave me alone?”

“I think you’d gladly do it again, but you don’t want your friends to know you slept with the enemy.”

“You’re disgusting. Don’t say another word to me or this bottle of water will be all over your face.”

“Hey.” Chris dropped into the seat next to her and glared at Damien. “What did I tell you about harassing my friends?”

Aubrey gripped her chair. Damien wouldn’t hesitate to tell Chris about their night together.

“Shouldn’t you be off taking care of your pregnant partner?” Damien laughed. “Brilliant timing on her part, by the way.”

“It’s just going to make it even sweeter when we beat you,” Chris said.

She tapped her fingers on the bottom of her seat. Why did Chris have to butt in? The more he provoked Damien, the more likely Damien was to spill her secret.

“I’m not really interested in listening to you try to one up each other, so if you could both let me eat in peace…” She stabbed a piece of lettuce with her fork.

Neither of the guys moved as they continued to stare each other down, but then they both slowly stood. Damien leaned forward, pressing his palms to the table.

“I’ll see you around,” he said, giving her a long look before walking away.

She put down the fork and looked up at Chris. “I didn’t need you to rescue me.”

“I was just trying to be a friend.”

She turned back to the table and grabbed her water, keeping her eyes straight ahead. “I don’t need any more friends.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

I stepped in front of the locker room mirror and smoothed my hand over my costume. The slate blue dress hugged my middle a tad tighter than I remembered, but I could still breathe – good news since I had to skate a short program in a few minutes.

The previous night we’d experienced the exhilarating pageantry of the Opening Ceremony, including a goose bump-inducing performance by Luciano Pavarotti. As he’d sung one of opera’s most famous arias, I’d thought about all the amazing experiences I’d had in my life because of skating. I owned the power to create another amazing memory starting now.

I draped my team jacket over my shoulders and went to find Chris. We’d had solid practices all week and a good six-minute warm-up, so there was no reason to feel uneasy, but my insides still churned. I’d been landing my jumps, but we hadn’t done many full run-throughs. I needed to trust that my body would respond under the stress of competition.

Chris sat in a flimsy chair along the wall of the bustling corridor. He was bent at the waist, staring at the ground. Normally, I’d find him yapping with Sergei when I came out of the locker room. Nervous energy danced wilder in my stomach as I watched him remain quiet. He couldn’t be anxious. I needed joking, confident Chris now more than ever.

I paced in front of him, skating the perfect program in my mind. I saw every step, every turn, every jump in vivid color. When Sergei approached us a minute later, my pulse quickened knowing our moment had come. No more visualizing the program. It was time to
do
the program.

We walked to the end of the tunnel, and Chris grasped my hands. I looked into his eyes, and he held my gaze, sharing the confidence I’d been seeking.

“We are champions,” he said.

I nodded sharply and squeezed his hands. Skating like champions meant attacking every element and every moment of the choreography and taking the audience on the emotional journey with us. I wanted everyone in the building to feel like they were part of the program.

As soon as the French team exited the ice, Chris and I shed our jackets and skate guards and took their place. I made long, smooth strokes, letting my knees settle into the ice. The low buzz of the crowd whooshed through my ears as I circled the rink over and over.

Attack, attack, attack
, I reminded myself. I couldn’t allow the cautious mentality I’d had in practice to seep into the performance.

Chris caught up to me, and we joined hands again on our way over to Sergei. As our blades slowed, I took a mental snapshot of him standing at the boards in his crisp gray suit and red tie. It was one of the images I wanted to file away and remember when I looked back on our final event. My coach… my husband… always there to support me.

Sergei gave us a warm smile. “You know this program so well. You’ve given it all your hearts time and again, and tonight will be no different. It’s ready for you to bring it to life once more, to show how beautiful and powerful your skating is.”

The fact that he said “powerful” gave me added confidence. He expected us to skate full-force, not to hold back like we’d done at nationals. I felt free to be the fierce competitor I’d learned to be under Sergei’s years of guidance.

Upon our introduction, the audience treated us to a hearty ovation, including a number of “USA!” chants sprinkled through the applause. Chris and I faced each other at the center of the rink, and I inhaled and exhaled a long breath as the music began. To the haunting strains of Barber’s
Adagio for Strings
, we moved across the ice with invigorating speed, not letting a note go by without expressing it with our bodies.

We completed the triple twist with a smooth toss and catch, and we separated to prepare for the side-by-side triple Lutzes. Adrenaline surged through me as the moment to jump grew closer.
No fear
, I commanded.
Take control.

I switched to the back outside edge of my left blade and picked into the ice with my right. Holding my arms tight to my chest, I spun three times and unwound for the landing. My body relaxed as my foot hit the ice with a clean edge, but then my peripheral vision caught sight of something I rarely saw – Chris stumbling on the landing. Not a fall or even a hand down but enough of a misstep for the judges to mark down the element.

Chris’s eyes were wide as our hands reconnected. He had to be just as shocked over his mistake as I was. I squeezed his hand extra hard to let him know I had his back like he always had mine.

We regained speed into the overhead lift, where I stretched my limbs as if I was trying to reach the top row of the arena. Chris set me down, and the soulful music carried us through the circular footwork, leading us toward the last big element, the throw triple Lutz. We needed the jump to be huge and clean.

Chris gripped my hips, and I jabbed my right toepick into the ice once again. With a world of air under me, I soared across the ice, turning three times and then reaching for the ground with my right blade.

Swish!

I spread my arms out and held my posture perfectly upright. The jump had been more than huge! I’d felt like I’d flown two miles through the air. We finished the program with a crisp and fast pairs spin, and the moment the music ended, Chris slapped his hand to his forehead.

“I can’t believe I did that,” he said.

“Hey.” I patted his chest. “It was just a little thing. We owned the rest of the program.”

He pulled me into a hug, and I rubbed his back. The calculator in my head began to spin the numbers. Maddy and Damien would skate later, so we didn’t have a comparison score yet. Our marks should be big even with the tiny mistake. The performance had felt immensely better than the short program we’d done at nationals.

When we met Sergei at the boards, he embraced Chris first. “It’s okay. It didn’t affect the program at all. You put everything you had into it.”

He turned to me and touched my face before swallowing me in his arms. “You were so beautiful.”

I held onto him a little longer than usual. I only had one of those moments with him left in my career – the special time of thrill and relief after finishing a program – and it was another memory to put in my mental scrapbook.

Chris continued to shake his head and mutter to himself as we sat in the kiss and cry. I put my arm around him and looked around at the stands. A few American flags waved, and I squinted to see if any of them were attached to my family.

The announcer came over the loud speaker, and I clenched my hand around Chris’s shoulder. The total score came in a bit lower than our season’s best, but it was still an excellent number, far ahead of the next team in the standings. It meant nothing, though, until Maddy and Damien skated.

We stepped into the mixed zone backstage, and I answered question after question about how I felt physically, if I would have as much energy in the long program two nights later.

I gave the same answer every time. “I feel great. This is our last competition, so I’m going to give the long every ounce of energy I have.”

Meanwhile, the reporters asked Chris if he’d stumbled because he was busy worrying about my physical state. He laughed off those questions.

“I might’ve been too amped up going into the jump,” he said. “That’s the only explanation I can come up with.”

By the time we finished with the long line of press, Maddy and Damien had skated. We stood with Sergei in front of the monitor backstage and watched their score flash onto the screen. It was higher than ours but by less than a point. My nerves started twitching, and we still had forty-eight hours until the free skate.

“Almost even,” Sergei said. “That’s what we expected, so nothing’s changed. If you skate the long as well as you skated tonight, you’ll be in a great position.”

I remembered Sergei saying something similar when we’d been in second place after the short in Salt Lake City. And we did skate well in the long. We skated the best program of our lives, and we still hadn’t won. Fate wouldn’t be cruel enough to deal us that hand again, would it?

****

The next morning Chris and I stood on the ice of the Palavela Arena once again but only in practice mode. Maddy and Damien zoomed toward us, and we backed closer to the boards to give them space for their free skate run-through. They’d nailed everything so far and looked supremely confident.

“Did you hear what Damien said to one of the Canadian TV stations?” Chris asked. “He said, ‘We’re bringing home gold.’”

I let out a single laugh. “He gives us such good bulletin board material.”

They finished their program with a furious spin and then vacated center ice, allowing the Chinese team to get into position for their run-through. We were next, so we skated slowly along the boards, warming up our legs. We didn’t plan to do a full run-through but rather sections with the key elements.

I glided over to Sergei at the boards for a drink of water, and he smiled. “It’s hard to believe this is one of the last times I’ll watch you practice.”

“I know. I’m trying not to think about it too much or I’ll be really sad.”

Chris skidded to a stop beside me. “You’re not gonna start crying, are you?”

“Not now, but tomorrow night after the event I’m going to be waterworks central.”

“Hey, I’ll probably be crying right along with you. Hopefully, on top of the podium.”

He took a swig of water before leading me to our starting spot on the ice. Our music began, and the other three teams gave us clearance as we performed the opening section of our program with the triple twist and the side-by-side Lutzes. The piano concerto continued, but we eased up and just coasted hand-in-hand, waiting for the time in the music where we’d do the throw Lutz.

When the tempo of the piece started to increase, we picked up our choreography and worked up speed for the throw. Skating backward with Chris behind me, his hands on my hips, I jabbed my toe into the ice as he vaulted me upward.

And then I saw Damien passing behind us.

He was close. Too close.

Panic tightened my muscles, and I couldn’t open up quickly enough for the landing. My right hip slammed onto the ice with the cold impact jolting my entire body. I sucked in a breath, and my hand flew to my stomach.

Chris crouched next to me. “You okay?”

Only my hip was still throbbing. Everything else felt normal. I exhaled and nodded.

He helped me stand, and Damien circled around us. “Sorry about that,” he said.

Chris dropped my hands and charged toward him. “How could you not see us?”

“Chris!” I hurried forward and grabbed his waist. “Let it go.”

He glowered at Damien as we skated away. Our music was just about to end, so we drifted to center ice and struck our final pose.