Chapter Forty
Among the many congratulatory texts that came after my triumphant performance from Zoey and the rest of my friends at the
rink were a half dozen from my mom. I’d maintained a cordial distance from her prior to the competition, blaming my practice
schedule, but she knew that I had a two-day gap before my free skate and wasn’t letting up about us getting together.
She promised that she and my father were available to meet me for any meal I could swing. I figured it would be easiest to
get it out of the way during the afterglow of my short, but with enough time padded in as I shifted my focus to my next performance.
Before I suggested a meeting time to her I crossed my fingers and reached out to Ben.
He’d been so overwhelmed for me after my short that the first three texts he’d sent were nothing more than exclamation points,
heart and fire emojis, and celebratory curse words. When we finally managed to steal a few minutes to talk later that night
he couldn’t stop raving. Now I was hoping that he’d be willing to break our agreement in a big way to help me stay sane; I
wanted him to chaperone my dinner date.
I crossed my fingers as I called him, still splayed out on my cardboard bed.
I figured I earned the late start to the day after the previous night’s triumph.
Erica and Kayla had already left for breakfast, and I felt like it was good for me to keep my distance in the aftermath of Kayla not making the cut.
She knew that her chances had been slim, but it didn’t dull the pain of not moving on.
Ben’s phone rang once then went to voicemail. I followed up with a text outlining why I was demanding a protocol break to
our agreement with all sorts of silly faux-legalese. When he didn’t reply to my legit funny message after ten minutes I got
up to start my day, trying not to obsess about why he wasn’t responding.
Hours later, after practice, my gym session, and PT, I received a reply.
Sorry, they’re shipping me off to Cortina D’Ampezzo to cover curling. Have fun.
I stared at the screen for an eternity, waiting for the follow-up text with encouragement, or an acknowledgment of how terrible
the night was going to be, or an apology for not being able to go, or at the very least a muscle-arm emoji, but nothing else
came through.
He understood the stakes, so his nonresponse was as loud as a tornado siren.
Ben was currently fighting his own battle.
I ignored my instincts and texted him back: I’m here if you need me.
This time his reply was immediate. Remember we’re lc. Protect your peace and focus on you.
Another side step. My chest hollowed out at the thought of him struggling. What I needed to say to him wouldn’t translate in a text, so I vowed to track him down somehow.
For now I needed to find alternate backup for my next battle. I called Mel.
Mel strode up to me at the Village gates dressed for battle in her tallest heels and a black leather trench coat I’d never
seen before.
“Okay, super spy,” I laughed. “Look at you.”
“I did a little celebratory shopping after practice today,” she said and did a catwalk turn and posed. “Too much?”
“In Italy, it works. Not so sure about Woodspring. What about me? Do I look ready for intense, nitpicking scrutiny?”
I opened my coat to flash my brown sweater dress and tall boots.
“Perfection. Body is a ten, face is off the charts. Let’s walk.”
The vibe near the Village gates made it feel like a carnival. We threaded through the crowds and I kept my head down, hoping
to stay anonymous. As much as I enjoyed interacting with fans, I needed to get in the right bitchy headspace for the family
dinner to come.
“Why can’t Ben make it?” Mel asked. “I can hold my own but it would be nice to have some backup.”
“He’s covering curling.”
“This late?” She scowled. “Is this a special session or something?”
I’d tried to ignore the odd timing. “Maybe it’s a sit-down interview with the team off-hours?”
The sound of our footsteps filled the silence. I could tell Mel was gearing up for the question.
“Are we ever going to talk about what’s going on with him? Because I’m starting to feel a little out of the loop.”
I felt my face going hot as she stared at me. Mel knew everything about me so it was odd that I hadn’t shared the real story with her. But then again, I wasn’t sure what was going on with Ben other than our rapidly shifting agreement.
“Honestly, I don’t know. We have a connection—”
“Which anyone can see,” she interrupted.
“Yeah, but Ben woos every human he comes in contact with,” I said. “You have a connection with him. Frank has a connection with him. It’s not hard to fall under his spell.”
“True,” she considered it. “But it seems different with you. When you’re around, no one else matters. His focus is completely on you, and not just because you were his subject on the show. And it’s not, like, flirty-horndog-who-wants-to-jump-you vibes.
The way he watches you is bodyguard-ish. You know? Like he’s scanning the perimeter with one eye while keeping the other glued
to you.”
“Okay, creepy visual,” I replied.
She bumped against me. “You know what I mean. So what’s going to happen next?”
“Not sure. We’re LC until the Games are over.”
But not if I had anything to do with it.
“LC?”
I chuckled. “I guess you’re not on narcissist mom Reddit. It means ‘low contact.’ We’re not reaching out to each other unless
it’s critical.” I paused. “Or if something major happens, like, oh I don’t know, coming in first in the short program.”
Mel broke out in a jig on the sidewalk. “You did it, you did it,” she sang.
“We did it,” I corrected her. “Anyway, it’s for the best right now. No distractions, just total focus on our goals.”
It had turned into focus with a side of worry on my side of the equation, but I had a plan.
We arrived at Lucia, a small restaurant on a quiet side street that featured a menu sure to piss off my mom since the place had a strict policy of not altering their dishes to suit dietary issues. My mom didn’t have any, but she enjoyed making restaurants jump through hoops to try to please her.
“Let’s get this over with. Showtime,” I said as I pushed the door open.
“My baby!”
The shriek echoed through the anteroom and drew every eye to my mom, which was the desired outcome. She jumped off the bench
and ran to me with her arms outstretched.
“Hi, Mom,” I said as she wrapped me in a smothering, perfumed hug. No surprise, she looked stunning in her double-breasted
camel-colored coat.
My dad was right behind her, smiling his handsome-leading-man smile. Anyone watching would assume that we were a functional
family.
She pulled back to study me. “I bet you barely slept last night. It’s so exciting, sweetheart! You’re closer than you’ve ever
been. Now we just have to pray you don’t falter in the free skate like last time.” She wiped her thumb along my cheek then
leaned in to whisper to me. “You missed some contour blending but I fixed it.”
My dad pushed closer to hug me as well. “You were incredible last night. I’m so proud.”
Somehow the p-word coming from him didn’t have an impact on me. He couldn’t claim an emotional investment in my journey since
he’d largely been absent from it.
Mel swept past me. “Well hello, you two! Long time no see. So long that I wouldn’t have recognized you without this one to
ID you.”
It was a vague enough comment, but I knew my mom would spend the rest of the night trying to decipher what Mel meant by it, wondering if she thought she looked older, or if her recent subtle cosmetic “upgrades” were more obvious than she realized.
“Oh!” My mom seemed confused as she glanced between us. “It’s you. Melanie! What a coincidence.”
“No,” I relished dropping the first bomb of the evening. “I invited Mel! I figured since we’re celebrating I should also include
the person who helped make last night happen.”
I roped my arm around Mel’s shoulders and we grinned at my parents as a united front. Watching my mom try to maintain a happy
expression as she recalibrated our dinner date was priceless.
“How sweet,” my mom fake-gushed. “I guess you’re acknowledging all your mentors, since you wouldn’t be here without your parents.”
I felt Mel stiffen in response.
“And we’re going to turn that spotlight right back on our star, right?” Mel said. “I’m not taking any credit for what she’s done. I’m just along for the ride at this point.”
“Exactly,” my mom laughed awkwardly. She glanced back toward the host. “Shall we get sorted out now? They wouldn’t give us
the table until the full party was here, and I was starting to get worried since you were late.”
“It’s four minutes after seven,” I said through gritted teeth.
“But we were here early, and you know what I always say: Early is on time, and on time is late.”
“Aw,” Mel said. “That must be super helpful for all those little ones you teach. Start those life lessons young!”
My dad chuckled and followed behind my mom as she stomped to the host stand.
Thanks to my mom’s tendency to “run cold because she’s so tiny,” we had to switch tables three times due to phantom drafts. I could see the waitstaff rolling their eyes at us. When we finally found one that met her approval she sharpened her claws and got to work.
“So much pasta and cream sauce on this menu! Mel, I’m assuming you picked this spot since you obviously don’t have any dietary
restrictions.” My mom glanced at her over her readers.
Mel laughed good-naturedly. “You’re right, Tricia, I don’t. It’s so freeing to just enjoy food. I had to do some retraining with her but now this one does too.” She nodded her head
toward me.
“Funny you mention it, I did notice how . . . healthy she looked last night.” My mom reached over to poke me in the side.
“But you wear it well, sweetheart! Such a cutie.”
My throat tightened reflexively. The old grooves were still there despite all the work I’d done to pull myself out of them.
I started to answer but Mel beat me to it.
“Isn’t it crazy that eating real food can change everything?” Mel said with amped-up awe. “Quinn started eating bread again and bam, all of a sudden she’s winning! I think there’s a
correlation. Maybe carbs are the secret to success?”
She reached for the bread basket, grabbed a breadstick, then held it out to me. “Cheers. Here’s to gold.”
I took one as well and touched it to hers, laughing. “Cheers.”
My mom watched in horror as I took a bite so huge that it reduced the thing by half.
Maybe dinner was a good idea after all?