Chapter Forty-Two
I was crying on the ice again.
And not in a cute way. In a runny nose, hiccupping, laugh-crying, this-is-going-to-be-the-photo-they-run way.
But I didn’t care because holy fuck, I’d just skated my heart out.
From the minute the song began, I’d felt nothing but pure joy. People had questioned my music choice since “Bulletproof” obviously
wasn’t a typical sweeping orchestral piece to which I could perform lots of balletic moves like the rest of the skaters. And
Mel, Sarah, and I had had a few tense conversations about the possibility of more traditional judges having a grudge against
my performance before it had even really started, but it was a risk I was willing to take. I’d spent the better part of my
career bowing to what other people wanted to see from me, and since this was my final shot at gold, I was going to do it my way.
It turned out to be the best decision of my skating career.
The performance took everything I’d endured in my early career and transformed it into an absolutely kick-ass, take-no-prisoners performance.
I hoped the cameras had zoomed in on me during the line in the song about burning bridges shore to shore, because I always visualized my mom and Carol as I skated it.
And I never stopped smiling the entire time. Every flip and jump I’d executed had been textbook. It didn’t even matter to
me if my fellow competitors skated better than I had, because my performance had felt perfect for me. And the audience reactions throughout it had lifted me up, because every move I nailed
was met with roars. By the end, the crowd was on their feet.
I wasn’t about to hurry off the ice to the kiss and cry. I needed to drink in what I’d practically killed myself to earn.
All the pain I’d endured, mental and physical, had brought me to this moment.
I was having trouble catching my breath, not only from the intensity of what I’d just done, but also because I could feel
the waves of love rolling down on me from the stands, practically drowning me. The applause and foot stomping sounded as sweet
as Beethoven.
It felt like I stood there for an hour, just swiveling slowly and taking it in. This was my second and final Olympics so I
wasn’t about to speed to the end.
The sweepers skated out to grab the rainbow of stuffed animals being tossed out onto the ice and I took it as my cue to go.
As always, Mel was waiting at the edge of the rink beaming at me.
“I’m so proud of you,” she told me as she swept me into a hug.
I could feel her crying as well, because even though we didn’t have scores yet, we both knew that based on my “Bulletproof”
performance, there was a spot on the podium for me.
Exactly where, we were about to find out.
I got hugs from my teammates and then we headed for the kiss and cry. I smiled for the camera and waved with both hands while upbeat music echoed around the stadium. My entire body was buzzing with the zingiest, most overwhelming endorphins I’d ever experienced.
I was so deer in the headlights that Mel had to bump her shoulder against mine to get me out of my trance. “You were perfect,”
she beamed at me. “Flawless.”
“Seriously?” I asked, even though I knew she was right.
“Stunning.”
It felt like we’d just sat down and all of a sudden . . . my scores.
For a split second, numbers stopped making sense to me. It was all hieroglyphics. But the corresponding roar from the crowd
and the way Mel grabbed my arm jerked me back to reality.
Eighteen years of devotion were finally paying off.
I’d won gold.
It was silly of me to scan the crowd thinking I’d see anyone I knew as I waited to step up on the podium they moved out onto
the ice. I was smiling so hard my eyes were almost squeezed shut, but still I searched for that one achingly familiar face.
I knew that if we locked eyes even from a distance, we’d still be able to have a conversation.
I told you, he’d say.
Yes, you did, I’d answer.
I scanned the camera crews ringing the rink but couldn’t find Ben among them. There was no way he’d miss it since there was
nothing else scheduled at the same time.
And of course there was no way he’d miss it since it was, well, me.
The music shifted as the officials walked out on the navy carpet they’d placed on the ice.
I glanced at Ayumi, then Yena. I had plenty of challenges throughout my career, but I’d never made an enemy of my fellow skaters.
I knew Ayumi wasn’t thrilled to be coming in second to me, but she smiled graciously and bobbed her head when I caught her eye.
Yena seemed overwhelmed that she’d actually made it to the podium.
The announcer introduced Yena, they played her national anthem, and then she bent over to accept her bronze. The process repeated
with Ayumi, and then time stopped.
When I’d visualized this moment I’d somehow forgotten to include how it might feel for me. I’d had a hard enough time even allowing the picture to sharpen into focus, so including sense details like how deafening
the crowd would be hadn’t even occurred to me. Now it felt like everything was heightened to extremes.
The lights were brighter, the audience was louder, the cold was chillier.
And me? I felt transcendent. There were almost no words to describe it. Joyful, proud, grateful, lucky . . . it was a mix of every good feeling I’d ever
experienced amplified to the extreme. I felt like my face was cracking open from smiling so hard, but I couldn’t stop it.
Until the national anthem began.
I wasn’t expecting the tears again, but hearing the song and seeing the flags unfurling in the crowd was a reminder that I
hadn’t just skated for me, I’d done it for everyone back home as well. Frank, Zoey and the Chens, and all the little kids
who crowded the ice every weekend and dreamed that someday they’d find themselves on top of a podium.
And yes, even my parents.
I swallowed hard as the officiant walked toward me with the medal on a tray. I moved forward, accepted his congratulations,
and bent down and closed my eyes as he slipped the ribbon over my head.
When I stood up, the medal bumped heavily against my chest. I reflexively grabbed it, and the three of us held up our medals in unison to the cheers of the audience.
My dream was achieved, and no matter what happened next, no one could take the feeling I experienced in this moment away from
me.