Chapter Twenty-Two
“We’re ready for you,” Hailey said as she peeked into the dining room.
It was the farthest spot on the first floor from where the team had set up to interview my parents on the sun porch. Ben had
invited me to sit in on their solo portion of the interview, but I had zero desire to watch my mom fake-fawn over me. Besides,
I already knew all her scripts. There was no need to give her the satisfaction of repeating them in front of me.
I stood up and stretched my arms over my head. I’d spent my time contorted in a highback chair, rewatching my old performances
and texting Mel and Zoey for support. Anything to avoid hearing my mom’s fake laughter echo down the hall.
“I love your house,” Hailey said over her shoulder as I followed her. “It’s perfect. Like a model home.”
“That’s exactly what she was going for,” I said with a snort.
Not comfortable or warm. Impressive. Envy inducing.
Like the room I was just in; the white oak table beneath the hand-painted wallpaper was so wide that you couldn’t talk to the person seated across from you let alone comfortably pass the dinner rolls, and the chairs were cushioned, but the hard right angle felt like torture after an hour or so.
“It’s going really well,” Hailey continued. “Your mom is so good on camera.”
I was well aware. “How about my dad?”
“Oh, he’s great too. But it seems like your mom was more plugged into your career. He’s letting her take the lead.”
As ever.
I paused at the threshold of the room, marveling at the way the team had transformed it for the interview with big softbox
lights and a maze of cords on the floor.
“Hey.” Ben met me at the doorway and I caught the slightest furrow. He glanced at Hailey hovering behind him. “I’ll get Quinn’s
mic on.”
She frowned at him. “I can do it. It’s sort of my job.”
“Yeah, but I want to go over some stuff with her. Why don’t you help Neil reset for the three-shot?”
Hailey nodded and moved on, leaving the two of us alone in the corner of the room a safe distance from where my parents were
sitting. I could feel my mom watching us.
“How bad was it?” I asked softly, angling myself so my back was to her.
Ben handed me the mic pack and I shoved it in my rear pocket. “Well, I now know that you have the world’s best mother, according
to your mother. And that she’s the one who pushed you to try a new direction. That about sums it up so far.”
Instead of feeling angry, I deflated. There was no way I could refute what she’d said without blowing up the whole interview.
“Based on that,” he continued, “I want to keep this group segment short. I can already sense how it’s going to go. Here, you know the drill.”
He handed me the mic and I threaded the cord down the front of my cashmere sweater. I’d worn a simple black turtleneck and
pulled my hair in a ponytail, because it was the exact look she hated.
“Your poor nervous system,” Ben said with a sad smile. “First the flight and now this. You holding up okay?”
I nodded unconvincingly, and he moved closer to me.
“Hey. We’ve got this,” he said softly as his dark eyes held mine.
We. The word kept popping up, and I was starting to like what it signified.
“It’s going to be fine,” he continued. “But I want to have a code, for if you need to pull the plug. Just say ‘spiral,’ okay?
Work it into your answer and I’ll end the interview so smoothly they won’t even know what hit them.”
I glanced over my shoulder at my parents and then back at Ben. “I hate this.”
He reached out to gently grasp my arm. “I know,” he replied. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”
We shared the moment in silence as I redefined the person I thought I had all figured out. I’d always considered Ben to be
quicksand dragging me down, but I was learning that he was actually an anchor, holding me steady in rough waters.
“What are you two gossiping about over there?”
And the spell was broken, thanks to my mom.
“Just strategizing. We want to watch the time so we don’t overstay our welcome,” Ben answered breezily.
“Exactly, because the snow’s about to start any minute,” my dad said.
He pointed up to the glass ceiling of the sun porch and sure enough, the sun slid behind a dark cloud.
“Yeah, the Weather Service just changed it from a winter storm watch to a warning.” Neil glanced up from his phone. “It’s
supposed to get really bad in a couple of hours.”
“How far is the hotel from here?” Ben asked.
“It’s close, like eight minutes,” Neil answered. “I figured we wouldn’t want to drive far.”
I wished that he’d asked me where we should stay, because he’d accidentally picked a cozy little spot that was perfect for
a romantic getaway.
“Let’s get to it, then,” Ben said. He locked on to me again. “Are you ready?”
I nodded and headed for the chair set up between my parents.
My mom slid her arm around my shoulders as I sat down. “This is so exciting!”
I noticed that one of the cameras was still rolling so I forced a smile. “Yup!”
We’d done plenty of interviews together but usually she did all the talking.
Neil moved in front of us and slapped the digital clapperboard with a guillotine chop. I was so on edge that I jumped, making
my mom giggle at me. He slid on his headphones and took his position by the primary camera. I was happy to see Hailey behind
her camera and ready to go.
“Okay, let’s get started!” Ben sat down across from the three of us.
“Quinn, your parents did a great job going over your origin story when you were little, so now I want to focus on what’s next.
” He paused, to build in space for the edit between his overview for us and the first official question.
He rearranged his face into a smile. “Tim, Tricia, how will you feel when Quinn wins gold in Italy?”
No mention of the messy middle of my Olympic journey four years prior, plus he was manifesting a win for me. Thanks, Ben.
My dad started to answer, but my mom stepped on his words.
“Sorry, honey, can I take this?” She beamed at Ben. “Hearing Quinn’s name called will be a dream come true. The level of sacrifice
we’ve dealt with to get her to this point has been extreme, you know? All those early morning practices, the expenses, the
travel . . . it was a lot for me to take on.” She leaned across me to tap my dad’s hand. “Tim helped when he could, but he
was busy keeping a roof over our heads and paying for her lessons, so it all fell on me. And I welcomed it, because I knew this young lady had a gift from day one. I can spot raw talent, and Quinn had it.”
Finally. Half-hearted acknowledgment of my contribution to my sport.
“I’m sure a big part of it was thanks to my dance background,” she continued. “Did I tell you that I was still teaching classes
at eight-and-a-half months pregnant? Quinn was born with rhythm!”
My stomach twisted, because the woman couldn’t even get past the first question without claiming some of my spotlight.
Ben nodded like she was making a valid point. “Yes, you did mention how long you danced while pregnant. Very impressive.”
He shifted to face my father. “Tim, talk to me about how you’ll feel hearing your daughter’s name called out at the medal
ceremony.”
He let out a whistle. “Oh, man. I’d call it a full circle moment.
When she was just starting out I asked her what she wanted to be when she grew up, and I remember her answer clear as day.
She said, ‘Daddy, I want to be an Olympic gold medalist.’ That was at eight years old!
Her passion and determination have been there from the start.
Watching her win will be really emotional for me. ”
I remembered that conversation. He’d said, “You can do anything,” and I believed him. I knew that his support was there, even
if he didn’t manage to show it in obvious ways.
“Exactly,” my mom added. “I really thought it was going to happen for us in Switzerland. How lucky are we that we get a second
chance?”
Ben flicked his eyes to me and I gave him a tight-lipped grin in response. I was okay for now.
“I mean, I wish I was lucky enough to get a second chance, but it didn’t work out for me. So watching Quinn live out her dream will have to
do.”
My heartbeat slowed. Tricia always had an angle that I could usually figure out, but it felt like this one was new.
“Well, you said your dance studio is at capacity with a waiting list, right? It sounds like it’s a very successful business,”
Ben said cautiously, like he could tell that he was on unsteady ground.
“Yes, the Tricia Albright Academy of Dance is the most successful studio in the entire state of Connecticut.”
An uncertifiable distinction, but who would dare question it?
“But there’s more to the story,” she continued coyly. “I guess you could call it an exclusive, just for you.”
I swallowed hard. Where the hell was this going? I glanced over at my dad, but he was just smiling blandly with a blank stare,
physically in the room but mentally on the golf course.
“Okay . . .” Ben said slowly. “Let’s hear it.”
My mom recrossed her legs and stared off into the distance.
“This is a little hard for me to talk about . . . it was a long time ago but it still hurts, you know?” She managed to make frowning look pretty.
“I’ve always been a gifted dancer. My goal was to pursue dance as a career, on the stage.
I’d always wanted to be a Rockette. They’re so poised and beautiful!
So I auditioned. I knew I had a decent shot, but the competition was fierce.
I couldn’t quite believe it when I made it through the screening audition, then the next one, and the following, and then
the final cut.”
The Rockettes? As she spoke I felt my body starting to tremble. I thought I knew all her stories—I’d always been her captive audience—so
what the hell was happening? I slowly moved my hands under my thighs, to try to stop the shaking.
“I couldn’t believe that I made it. I was going to be a Rockette! You can’t even imagine how excited I was.”
She was never a Rockette. My dad reached over to squeeze her hand.
“Wow,” Ben answered. “Quite an honor.”
“Oh my lord, I was thrilled,” my mom laughed. “A dream realized. But then . . .”
She trailed off and sniffled again. I could feel her staring at me, like we were in a play and I’d just missed a critical
stage direction.
“Then I got an even bigger surprise; I found out that I was pregnant with this one.” She slipped her hand over to cradle the
side of my head and forced me close for a quick kiss on my temple. I had no idea what my face was doing in response but it
probably wasn’t cute.
“So my dream just, poof, disappeared.” Her voice trembled but she smiled.
I felt clammy, like I was coming down with the flu as I figured out that I was my mother’s dream stealer. My very presence
was a reminder of everything she had to give up. In her eyes, I was to blame for her derailed future.
She’d had so many opportunities to let me in on this important part of her backstory but she’d kept it to herself, like she knew that she’d eventually have the perfect stage and spotlight for a dramatic reveal.
Her ability to direct my life would never end, it seemed.
“Replaced with a new dream, I assume,” Ben replied. “A much more important one.”
A beat, as my mom seemed to process that having a child was more meaningful than being a high-kick dancer.
“Yes, yes, of course,” she insisted. “Quinn was my new life’s passion. Her dreams became mine. And I tried my hardest to help get her to the top
of the podium in Switzerland, but she didn’t even win bronze. We were all so disappointed, me more so than her, I think. Mistakes were made—”
“But the good news is her chances for gold in Milan are strong.” Ben interrupted her, like he knew exactly where the conversation
was going. “America loves a comeback story, and Quinn is poised to deliver an incredible one.” He focused on me. “Quinn, how
will it feel to stand on that stage and see your parents out in the crowd, cheering you on as you’re awarded the gold medal?”
I froze. Since the split with my old team, it hadn’t even been a consideration, other than the feelings of superiority I knew
I’d have for doing it on my own terms. I needed to manufacture a TV-ready, sappy response. The short interview already had
me wrung out and buzzing on adrenaline at the same time, a nasty soup of emotions that didn’t tee me up to be generous with
my mother.
At least Ben had put me in control. I decided to use my Uno Reverse Card to end the torture.
“Oh my gosh,” I began, trying to look appropriately awestruck at the idea. “I can totally picture that moment.”
It was a white lie, and a nod to the visualization he’d led me through on the plane.
“It’s tough to put words to the feeling,” I admitted as both my parents stared at me. I focused on Ben instead, my surprise
port in the storm. “I think I’ll feel incredibly honored to represent my country. Relieved that all my hard work paid off.
Joyful that I achieved a lifelong goal. And thankful that I had the support of my parents when I was just starting out.”
I emphasized the time frame, because my mom’s support morphed into intense pressure as the years rolled on, and that was nothing
to be thankful for.
Ben nodded at me to signify that I was doing okay.
“I have so many emotions spiraling through me at the thought of winning gold,” I laughed and hoped it didn’t sound as fake as it felt.
It took a few seconds for him to make the connection that I’d invoked our safe word. I saw him snap out of interviewer mode
to briefly acknowledge it, then just as quickly morph back into professional Ben.
“I can only imagine,” he agreed. “The entire world is excited to watch your journey, Quinn. Tim, Tricia, thank you so much
for sitting down with us today.” He smiled at us and froze for a few seconds, then seemed to dim his wattage to normal levels
again. “Okay, that’s a wrap for the Albrights. Thank you so much for doing this, guys, you were great.”
Neil and Hailey sprang into action, moving toward us to collect the mics.
“Wait, that’s it?” my mom asked, sounding very disappointed.
“Yeah, you were perfect, we got everything we needed and then some,” Ben answered. “And anyway, look.” He pointed out the
window to the snow just starting to come down. “The storm is here.”
But what Ben didn’t realize is he’d helped me weather an even bigger one.