Page 15 of Rinkmates

Like, what did I even think?

A small voice inside me insists they’ll only cast me for ratings and publicity anyway. Liora James. The mystery of Team USA. I sigh, reminding myself that I’m more than just that. More than a question mark. I can do this, because I deserve it. My talent is not defined by what happened to me years ago. But just thinking about the Olympics makes me want to cry, run, vomit.

But I won’t, because I’m here to fix things.

I can fix it. I will. I have some white lies ready.

And that’s why I resist the urge to snap at her and channel my inner fake smile again. Oh, I’m so good at it it’s actually sad.

“Stacey, it’s great to see you again,” I reply smoothly. “I got curious and just wanted to check out what Grace has planned for this event. What about you? You look lovely!” She does.

“Well, it’s interesting to see you again for sure. You look…nice.”

Stacey takes a long sip of her water bottle, her eyes narrowing as she notices the half-eaten blueberry muffin in my hand. She then casts a disapproving glance at the overflowing buffet table.

And just like that, Priya steps away from the buffet and there’s a knot tightening in my stomach. It feels like a flashback, and I’m thrown back to the dark side of figure skating, where every tiny bit of fat is scrutinized under tight-fitting dresses. We are all beautiful in our own way, but body dysmorphia is a constant struggle. How do you tell the girl who is constantly judged for having curves—boobs and an ass—that less is considered more in this line of work?

Of course being back in these dresses triggers old habits within me and, apparently, Priya too. The pressure to be thin never truly leaves you in this business. But I’m disappointed in myself for reacting this way, rather than being upset with Stacey. She’s consumed by the unrealistic standards portrayed by the media, while I thought I had moved on from that mindset. I told myself not to worry about it anymore, but one off-hand comment and I’m back to criticizing myself. It’s ridiculous, yet so easy for our minds to get caught up in. Why oh why do women tend to tear each other down?

We should be supporting and lifting up one another instead.

Smiling at Stacey, I reach for a chocolate heart, stuffing it into my mouth and trying to convince myself that I am fine. That we are all fine the way we are, because we fucking are.

“You know,” Stacey’s high-pitched voice fills the silence, staring at my mouth, “we’ve all been wondering why you, well,dropped out of the Olympics. Everyone fought so hard and you just…gave it all away.”

I grip the desk next to me, my nails digging into the flimsy paper tablecloth, creating small tears.

I gave everythingaway?

I never willingly gave up anything.

If I could, I’d still compete.

And then another thought creeps up. Shit.

What if my return was actually too early?

If she of all people can get under my skin so easily, how will I handle the pressure if I get chosen? How will I speak to my followers or make a statement? Give interviews? The uncertainty of it all churns in my stomach like acid and I struggle to answer. What should I say? The truth?

No. I can’t.

I just can’t—

“Oh, Liora.” Priya’s voice cuts through my thoughts. “I think your phone is buzzing! I bet it’s your aunt finally calling back!”

I blink. I don’t have an aunt.

Priya’s hand grabs mine and she pulls me away from Stacey.

My head spins as I try to say goodbye, but all I can muster up is a feeble wave. Look at me, getting jostled around like a human punching bag and still attempting to cling to the etiquette rule book. Priya positions herself in front of me, creating a barrier between me and Stacey’s curious stare as we walk toward our bags. I quickly sit on the bench, burying my head in my lap.

I take a deep breath and just don’t care if Priya sees me like this. I need a moment. Or two. Or three.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

I thought I’d prepared for this. The minute I filled out the email application I tried to mentally prepare myself for any kind of interrogation. I played it through over and over again butyeah, I guess it’s time to admit that it’s just more complex in real life.

It’s so hard to speak about the most challenging period of one’s life, and those who have never experienced true pain will never comprehend its depths.

---