Kiss and Cry

We’d had a family lunch yesterday downtown in Calgary, though I wouldn’t see them again until after the free skate in two days. I had to stay focused. I was all right. This was my moment.

I was the fourth skater of six in the flight, so I had time to catch my breath after the collision, but not too much time that the adrenaline would wear off and pain would take over.

As the skater before me—who happened to be Massimo—finished, I waited by the gate with Manon. Normally, I’d analyze the response of the audience to determine how well a competitor had performed, but it was like my ears were stuffed with cotton.

While he exited to the Kiss and Cry, I took the ice, skating three laps and relaxing into my knees. Massimo’s score and placement washed over me as I stood at the boards with Manon on the other side.

“This is your time, Henry. Stay in your center. Let your body do what it knows how to do. What you’ve trained it to do. Don’t think. No doubts. Let the crowd love you.” She grasped my hands and squeezed.

My name filled the arena along with a roar of applause. Of love. Unbidden, an image of Theo’s beaming, generous smile expanded in my mind until it became too big.

I was left alone at center ice. A hush fell, thousands of people silent as I lowered my face in my starting position, arms at my sides.

Damien Rice’s “The Blower’s Daughter” played, calm and lyrical, the lilting melody emphasizing my soft, deep edges and glide that looked effortless but required strength, control, and power.

My first two jumping passes—the quad toe combo and triple Axel—felt like water flowing over timeworn stone. My quad Lutz out of footwork was in the second half of the program, garnering a ten percent bonus in the score. This would make or break me. A miss would knock me out of medal contention, and I tensed as I launched up.

I had to muscle out the landing, but it was on one foot and fully rotated. I extended my free leg, not getting the flow I would have liked on the running edge. It wasn’t perfect, which I hated, but I’d done it. I glided into my step sequence, losing myself in the swelling music, one step closer to gold.

As the music ended and I took my final pose, a mirror of my starting position, the audience roared, leaping to their feet. In the last minute of my program, I’d almost forgotten they were there. I’d heard my music as though it was the first time. Their love washed over me, and I bowed gratefully.

Theo skated after me, and I was aware of him taking the ice as I neared Manon waiting at the Kiss and Cry. The temptation to allow just one fleeting look at him stole my breath.

Flowers and stuffed animals littered the ice, and I bent to scoop up a moose wearing the Canadian uniform.

He’s no one. He’s not even here. He doesn’t matter.

I only had to believe the lies for two more days.

“Can I come in?”

Hadn’t I endured enough humiliation? Hannah Kwan stood outside my room at the Athletes’ Village in her red and white team jacket, fiddling with her jangling bracelets.

It would be too rude to say no, and I knew she meant well. I stood back and closed the door after her. Crossing my arms, I waited for her to speak and get this over with.

“Congrats on the short! You were amazing. Only two points behind. It’s so close! We’re all really excited for you. Are you feeling okay?” She shook her head, black ponytail waving. “Sorry. That’s probably a stupid question. Do you need more ice for your face or anything? The bruise isn’t too bad today, actually.”

“You’re not here to talk about my face.”

Hannah sighed. “Look, Anton feels like shit. Not that this is about Anton. But he really does feel awful.”

I waited. I could believe his regret, but it wasn’t my concern.

“The thing is—I heard a rumor the other day that you and Theo were hooking up in Toronto.”

If that was a question, I wasn’t answering it.

She paced a few steps. “It’s none of my business, I know. I just… I thought you hated his guts? And Theo’s always been so—” Flapping her hand, bracelets tinkling, she made a face. “Frivolous. It’s so damn annoying how he can pull out wins when it counts, but I guess he was first in line when God was giving out jumping ability. And he’s really friendly, don’t get me wrong. He’s just always seemed…surface-y. Like he never actually cared that much about anything.”

“That’s not true.” The defense popped out before I could control myself.

She stopped pacing and peered up at me with a shrewd narrowing of her eyes. Like many pair girls, she was tiny but fierce. “You know, everyone’s buzzing about how he flew to your side after the collision in warm-up.”