Kiss and Cry

“Isn’t that why you abandoned us and moved to LA? For your precious freedom?”

“How was that ‘abandoning’ you? Because I didn’t want you to come with me? Dad has a career in Chicago, and the girls were in high school. And no, I didn’t want you to come with me. I wanted to be in charge of my skating for once, and with Mr. Webber’s help I did a pretty good job, didn’t I? I’ve won two world titles!”

She sniffed. Here came the tears. “You know how proud I am. All I ever wanted was to help you succeed. But you shut me out. You make huge decisions without even asking for my opinion!” She glared at Henry again. “Now you’re clearly letting emotions cloud your judgment. What were you thinking going to train with him?”

“Stop!” I hissed, aware that there were still people gathered down the hall watching this fight. “Don’t talk about Henry. He’s off-limits.”

Her eyes widened, and she jerked her head from Henry to me. For a minute, I thought her head might actually explode right then and there.

She was still staring between us. “It can’t be true. I discounted the rumors weeks ago because I didn’t think it was possible you’d be so reckless.” She gaped at me. “What on Earth are you thinking?” Then she whirled to Henry, who watched her warily. “I’d expect better of you!”

I had to laugh. Honestly, at this point, what else could I do? My shoulders shook, and I was on the edge of hysteria. “Sorry to disappoint you, Mom. He’s not a machine after all. We’re both trying our best. Unless I do everything the way you want, you’re never happy. I’m afraid you’re doomed to even more disappointment. Get used to it.”

She swiped at her eyes. “I’ve only ever tried to help you. Now I’m the villain!”

I sighed, resignation settling in as her rage and hysteria faded. This was the martyrdom stage of her cycle, and I’d heard it all before. “Mom, I can’t do this with you now. You need to go.”

She nodded. “Fine. That’s fine.” She checked her watch. “You have an interview with Janice at the studio.”

“Fuck,” I muttered, pulling out my phone and checking the time. I’d have to run to make it. The federation would be pissed if I flaked, rightfully so.

Mom smiled thinly. “Go on. We can settle this later.”

I wanted to argue that there was nothing to “settle.” She wasn’t going to change, and I wasn’t going to put up with her crap. But whatever. “Okay. Let’s go.”

“Yes, you’d better hurry, dear.”

Henry still watched us silently, and as much as he didn’t actually have a poker face, I wasn’t sure what he was feeling. Disgust, most likely? It might have been for me, my mom, or both.

“I’m sorry,” I said to him again, even though I’d probably ruined everything permanently. I forced my feet to walk, but after a few steps, I realized my mother wasn’t following.

Oh, hell no.

“Mom. Let’s go.”

“Yes, darling, you’d better hurry ahead.” She took a step toward me. “You know how my lower back flares up with all the sitting in those arena seats cheering you on. Go ahead.”

I stood my ground. “So you can grill Henry alone? I don’t think so. Let’s go. You’re not supposed to be here.” Not that Henry couldn’t handle her, but nope. No way. If I had to drag her out screaming, I wasn’t leaving her alone with him.

Again, she puffed up with outrage. “I’m not going to ‘grill’ anyone.”

“I’m calling security,” Henry said flatly.

“This is ridiculous.” Mom lifted her chin and strode down the hall.

I glanced back at Henry, who watched us go. There was so much more I wanted to say, but I had to leave him alone. Tomorrow was the free skate, and we had jobs to do.

Right now, my job was to haul ass to the US network studio, a glass-walled temporary building with a view of the distant mountains. My mother was talking as I escorted her out of the Athletes’ Village, but I mostly blocked her out. The shuttle bus was mercifully approaching on the horizon.

“If Janice asks about Sakaguchi—”

“Mom, stop. It’s my interview.”

“I should come along. I’ve spoken with the federation president in depth about messaging. We can go over some answers on the way.”

It was like the fight had never happened. Like she hadn’t registered a single word I’d said. But this was how it had always been. She wasn’t going to change. For a second, my eyes burned, and I almost burst into tears, the frigid air searing my nose.

No matter how clearly I tried to explain or how angry I got, she’d still try and control me. And I’d still love her, but she’d never be the parent I wanted her to be.