Page 47 of My Best Bet

We spent the next hour together going over stroking techniques, different edges, and the beginnings of spins and waltz jumps. We ended the lesson with a shoot-the-duck competition, which made all of them fall over at different times and crack up laughing. We were flying through the beginner elements, which was a great sign. I made a mental note to float the idea of beginner competitions to the girls and their parents.

It was a great lesson, made only slightly worse by the pain now radiating up my knee from the cold air. I wanted to soak in a hot bath, but I’d have to settle for my apartment’s tiny shower.

Right before the buzzer went off to end the session, I felt someone’s eyes on me, and my attention was tugged to the stands.

He sat there, his elbows on his knees, a hat turned backwards over his hair, watching contentedly, just like he used to.

I quickly snapped my neck away in fear that he’d catch me looking, and a sense of déjà-vu set in over the inner tug-of-war of wanting to look at him again.

After the session wrapped up, I picked up the discarded sweaters that skaters forgot on the boards and then tucked away all our different cords in the music box before leaving the ice.

By the time I swished across the lobby in my coaching sweats, all three girls were happily chatting with each other.

Colt was bent down in front of Lucy, unlacing her skates. His left hand held her skate. His ring-less left hand.

My heart pretty much stopped in my chest.

And then his head turned, and his brown eyes locked on mine.

I felt caught. My face flamed.

Lucy reached forward and patted his scruff-covered cheek to force him to look up at her. “Did you see me, Dad? Did you see my waltz jump?”

Dad.

Would the shock of that ever wear off?

My heart squeezed painfully in my chest over all the old hopes and dreams and promises we used to tell each other.

With a deep breath, I forced myself to keep moving to my locker room. I didn’t want a confrontation. I just wanted this job. I didn’t need anything more.

It didn’t matter that he didn’t have a ring, I told myself. Actually, it made it more important for me to keep my distance from him. Because I couldn’t survive another heartbreak like the last one.

I needed to focus only on what I could control: Icouldbe professional, and Icouldbe a great coach.

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The next morning, the train above my apartment rattled me awake around 5am and I couldn’t get back to sleep.

Instead of tossing around in bed and letting my thoughts consume me, I quickly changed into a matching yoga set and hoodie and grabbed my skate bag.

As soon as I pulled into the Coliseum’s empty parking lot, a bubble of giddy excitement rose up in my chest. As much asI had a love-hate relationship with figure skating, I’d never get over the thrill of having the ice all to myself.

I darted across the parking lot, hugging myself against the crisp fall morning air, then let myself in the rink with the extra key Hans gave me when I started work a couple weeks ago.

After the heavy door swung shut behind me, an eerie silence filled the rink. Only the backup generator light was on, casting a dull glow over the ice. The board’s glass was all foggy from the ice having been zammed at nighttime.

This was the sport stripped down to the basics– no coaches, no judges, no competition. Just me and my skates.

I glided onto the ice, enjoying the sound of my blades cutting into smooth surface, and I made my way to the music box to start my playlist. Sometimes I wondered if it was skating itself that I was passionate about or if I just loved the way music echoed in the empty rink, making it feel like I had to move.

As soon as the first few chords ofFade Into Youby Mazzy Star floated in the cold air, I breathed deep and spun into some mindless choreography.

I extended my limbs, pushing my legs as hard as possible, but floating my arms gracefully to the music. I stretched as far as I could, marking my presence here on the ice.

Because here’s the thing about rink life… When you’re young, you take up a lot of space and time here. You power through the levels and make a name for yourself. But as time goes on, you find you can’t push quite as hard. Maybe you get hurt, maybe you just get old, but you find your body’s limits, and it’s a humbling feeling. Suddenly your body doesn’t work the way it used to. And you gradually start to shrink… Your movements, your name, your reputation.

And you continue shrinking until you can’t do much.

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