Page 44 of The Cutting Edge
There are two sets of incredibly soft 1500 thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets and extra pillowcases (they definitely don’t go that high at TJ Maxx.) Plus three or four cute little sleeper sets with camis and shorts made out of super-soft cotton, and three pretty cotton nighties that are beautiful but not so revealing I wouldn't feel comfortable wearing them at the hospital with strangers wandering in and out of my room all day long. There’s a lavender-scented purple silk eye mask, silk socks, a dozen silk and cotton bikini panties, and two beautiful silk robes. One is pink and funky, with little flamingos and disco balls all over it. Very me. The other is a full-length black silk robe — not too heavy or light, just soft and elegant and something that any of the female characters onEmily in Parismight wear when lounging around their apartments, sipping leftover champagne, and enjoying the view of the Eiffel tower from their balconies. This collection of presents also comes with a gift card to La Nuit, and a note that all of the gifts have been laundered by request, and are ready to wear and use.
The nurses, already prone to stopping by my room extra regularly in order to spot a certain NHL superstar who's been hanging about, now begin dropping by at regular intervals to check out the arrival of the next gift.
“That boy is besotted,” remarks Nurse Barb, “Pretty soon, we’re going to have to move you to a bigger room just to accommodate all these presents.”
My phone rings with a number I don’t recognize, but today is unusual so I go ahead and pick up the call, rather than letting it go to voicemail.
“Hello?”
“Hi, is this Coco Charmand?” asks the woman’s voice on the other line. Oh God, not this again.
“Yes?”
“This is Vera Wang. I’ve been commissioned to make a skating dress for you for Nationals.”
“Vera Wang? As in, THE Vera Wang? Famous fashion designer Vera Wang?”
“Thank you, you’re too kind. Yes, that’s me.”
“And you’re making a dress for me? How did this happen?”
“It’s a gift from Logan Rivers.”
I gasp audibly, “I…I can’t. That’s incredible. Amazing. I’d die to have… I can’t.” Vera Wang’s custom skating dresses run thousands and thousands of dollars. “It’s too much. Too generous. I can’t accept it.”
“Logan was concerned you might say that, so he asked me to tell you heowesyou a new skating dress, and also that my commission is non-refundable, and that he’s already paid.”
“I can’t…” I’m completely speechless.
Vera’s voice softens, “I don’t know if you’re aware, but I was a competitive figure skater when I was younger, and I’m still a big fan of the sport. I’ve watched your career for quite a while, and I’d be honored to make a skating costume for you.”
“I know, I’ve always dreamed...” Tears spring out of nowhere. “Really?”
“Really,” she reassures me. I can’t believe I’m even remotely considering accepting this insanely expensive gift. “Just say the word, and we’ll make arrangements for someone to come by and take your measurements.”
My thoughts race, I can’t even speak.
“Or… Did you have another designer in mind?” she asks, probably confused about why I’m not jumping up and down screaming YES! YES! YES! into the phone right now.
“There is no other designer,” I say without even thinking. “I’ve dreamed of you designing my skating costume since I was a kid. I mean, I’ve been visualizing myself on top of the podium at the Olympics, wearing a silver, custom-made Vera Wang skating dress since I was nine years old. Over and over again, always the same, before every competition, before I fall asleep, at every setback…” I do not mention that this visualization previously included being accompanied by Justin Beiber, who would stand on the ice while singingBaby, gazing up adoringly into my eyes as I stood on the podium wearing my newly-won gold medal.
“Well, Coco,” she laughs softly, “it seems it’s destiny then.”
We chat a few more minutes and she tells me she’ll be in touch soon and that I’ll have the costume in plenty of time for Nationals.
By the time I hang up the phone, I’m practically in shock. Did that truly just happen?
ME:
You. Will. Not. Believe. who just called me.
MARISSA:
Hockey god?
ME:
Vera Freaking Wang. Logan bought me a custom skating dress. It’s too much, I have to say no.
