A Fear of Falling

Chapter 1

In the heavy silence, Dmitrii Lebedinsky reached for his water bottle and quickly took a sip.

Soft blues and greens decorated the room, making the bright red of his Team Russia jacket stand out.

He sat on the edge of a couch looking at a delicate arrangement of flowers on the table next to a few books and knick-knacks.

He turned away from the flowers and grabbed a stress ball.

With his pale hands occupied, he tried to decide how to answer the question.

“When did I first realize I needed help?”

This room was supposed to be relaxing and comfortable, but that did not describe how he felt at all.

The creak of office chair wheels caused his head to tilt, looking over at his doctor.

“I don’t know. I mean, I thought I would be fine.

I really did. After the accident, once they cleared me to go back on the ice, even just tying my laces rattled me.

I could feel my heart racing the second I got close to the rink.

That first day back on the ice, I tried to convince myself it was just excitement and adrenaline …

Well, I guess I was right on the second part.

” He didn’t mention the nightmares, even though he knew he should tell her.

“How did it feel once you got your skates on?” The woman’s voice was soft, comforting, but still so precise.

The nameplate on her desk etched with ‘Dr. Talia Aubrey, MD, PhD,’ gave little hint of how truly acclaimed the woman was.

The room held no signs of her accolades.

Not even her diploma from Columbia was on display.

Her intent was to put people at ease, not to impress or intimidate.

At least that was what Dmitrii had read in one of the books she had published.

When people talked about sports psychology, more often than not, they were talking about what she had written.

“I just – it was just so much … I don’t know, fear? I’ve been nervous before. Trust me, I know what that feels like. Before my first junior competition, I was so nervous I actually threw up.”

“This time was different, though?” She already knew the answer.

They had been talking for two hours, and she had reviewed every bit of medical information that she had received before Dmitrii had flown to the US.

She knew very well that this differed from all those other times.

If it hadn’t been so different, he wouldn’t be in her office right now.

“Yeah … normally once I’m on the ice, everything settles and I become focused.

Like, the crowd fades, the pressure fades, and it just becomes me, the music, and the ice.

This time, I felt paralyzed. I just stood there and couldn’t skate.

I couldn’t even more. It wasn’t even a competition or anything.

This was just getting on the ice for practice.

No matter what I tried, my mind just kept racing through all the things that could go wrong.

Every way I could possibly hurt myself kept flashing through my head like some demented slideshow. ”

Dmitrii let out a frustrated breath as he looked up at the ceiling before letting himself slump back onto the couch.

He’d already told her in excruciating detail what he remembered of the accident.

Well, he had told her most of what had happened.

Talking about that day was still so hard, but he had tried to at least tell her the parts that he thought were important.

They had already talked through most of his three-hour slot with her for this initial meeting, and he was exhausted.

No, exhausted didn’t cover this. His mind was done.

His emotions were done. He felt drained beyond what he thought he could take.

“Tomorrow you are going to be on the ice for the first time at your new rink.” Of course, she had his entire schedule.

She was the reason Dmitrii was here in this country.

That she was near multiple skating rinks with well-qualified coaches was just a bonus.

Dmitrii wasn’t here for the coaching staff at any of the local rinks.

He had flown all this way for one reason, and that was to work with the top sports psychiatrist who was sitting in the room with him.

He’d flown halfway around the world to be treated by her.

“Yeah. Tomorrow, I am meeting with the coaching staff at the rink and … I’m going to skate a little.” He dropped his eyes as he said it. It had been months since the accident, and all he had accomplished so far comprised the most rudimentary of skating before the fear would win.

She made a note on the pad of paper next to her. Her dark hands stood in stark contrast to the white paper. “Are you planning on any jumping?”

“No.” Dmitrii didn’t elaborate.

“I see…” She tilted her head as she watched him and let her words trail off. She wouldn’t push, but she left it open for him to volunteer more information.

Dmitrii looked up to see that patient look on her face. The bright sun that snuck through the window shade illuminated the tight curls of her black hair, almost like a halo he’d see at church back when his grandmother had taken him every Sunday. “Do you think I should?”

“I think that is up to you. However, I am planning to be at the rink. I want to see you lace up and get on the ice with my own eyes.” She wasn’t just a sports psychiatrist. She was a sports psychiatrist who specialized in major traumas.

Her clientele comprised the highest caliber of athletes from all over the world.

That she would want to see him at the rink was to be expected.

He nodded, looking back at her. The doctor’s soft brown eyes held compassion, but that was much better than what he had gotten used to seeing in people’s eyes. He hated pity. He hated being a disappointment. “OK.”

“Dmitrii, get some rest. You look worn out from this. I know this was a lot to cover during our first session, but I needed to hear everything from you in person.”

Dmitrii grabbed his phone, nodding as she said the last part.

“I understand, doctor.” If he had thought about it, he would have picked up food on the way back to the hotel.

Instead, he just used an app to arrange for a ride back.

He was hoping he wouldn’t be here long enough to need to deal with something more permanent than having a ride-sharing app installed.

Once back at the hotel, he flopped onto the bed hoping for a breakthrough, something to change so he could resume his skating career. What he didn’t want was for his time here to end before he could make progress. He knew he was on borrowed time.

He couldn’t escape the fear that if he didn’t start showing some results, the money would stop coming.

Flying to the US and the experts that he was working with were not cheap by any stretch of the imagination.

If the Russian skating federation stopped paying, all of this would end.

Every hope of continuing his skating career would end.

His dreams would end. The pressure wrapped its vice-like grip around his heart as he stared at the hotel ceiling.

The hours-long session with the doctor had worn him out, but his mind was racing too fast to sleep.

That night, Dmitrii felt restless in bed.

The extended-stay hotel was nice, but it wasn’t home.

He considered sending a message to his coach back in Russia, but there wasn’t much to say.

He did not consider sending a message to his mother.

There wasn’t anything he wanted to say to that woman.

He could call a friend, except the tenuous friendships that had been forming at his old rink had ended with his accident.

Instead, he rolled onto his side to look at his phone.

One social media app after another opened and then closed.

There wasn’t anything to post. Dmitrii didn’t want to admit that one of Russia’s brightest rising stars of figure skating was sitting alone in a hotel bed half a world away because his mind was too broken to skate.

Some time later, he finally drifted off to a fitful sleep. Tomorrow was going to be hard.