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"Lunch would be fine. We need to get to the bottom of what you've been up to."
Amber rolled her eyes. "I miss you, too, Mom."
"Don't you get smart with me, Amber. We've worked way too hard on your skating career for you to throw it all away now."
"I'm not throwing anything away. I'm still working toward getting that medal."
"We'll see about that."
Amber made plans to meet her mother, then clicked off the phone, realizing as she did that her left hand had been clenched into a fist the entire time she'd been on the phone. She relaxed her hand and looked down at the deep grooves her nails had carved into her palm.
No tension there, huh, Amber?
Blowing out a breath, she got up, paced around the apartment and did some deep breathing in an effort to calm herself down. She changed clothes, making sure her hair was brushed and pulled back into a ponytail. She put on her leggings, boots and a sweater, then grabbed her jacket and gloves and left the apartment.
The restaurant was a few blocks outside the village. The cold air cleared her head, which she desperately needed. By the time she made it to the restaurant, she was ready to face her mother.
Her mom had texted her to tell her she was already there and had a table. Amber walked in, and it was hard to miss her mother's flaming red hair and bright patterned clothing. The one thing Amber knew about Denise Sloane was that she liked to stand out in a crowd.
No problem there. Mom stood and waved her hand, as if Amber would have any problem spotting her. She made her way around several tables and leaned over to kiss her mother on the cheek.
"Hi, Mom."
"You look tired. And are you gaining weight? You aren't eating junk food, are you?"
Amber drew in a deep breath, saved by their waitress who came over to take Amber's drink order. She asked for a glass of lemon water, then faced her mother. "I'm sleeping fine. My weight is perfect, and I'm eating right. How are you?"
"Concerned. Why were you late for practice this morning?"
She could tell her mother the truth, that she'd spent the night with Will last night, but that would only open up a hysterical fielding of questions Amber wasn't ready--or in the mood--to answer.
She waited until the waitress set her water glass in front of her, and then they ordered their lunch. Knowing how her mother watched every calorie she consumed, Amber chose a grilled chicken salad.
"I forgot to set the alarm on my phone. But I had plenty of time to run through my program, so it worked out fine. I'm sorry I missed your calls and worried you, though."
That seemed to settle her mother, because the barrage of questions and accusations ceased. "So you won a gold medal, finally."
Amber smiled. "Yes, it was a thrilling competition. We were all rooting for each other. The team was so excited to win the medal."
Her mother nodded. "Yes, but it is a team medal, so not as good as an individual one."
Gee, Mom, how about an "I'm so proud of you" or "You did great"? Instead, she got the typical "That's not quite good enough, Amber."
A biting retort sat on the tip of her tongue, just waiting to fall out of her mouth.
Amber swallowed it instead of spitting it out. The taste was bitter, as always. She washed it down with a sip of lemon water.
"How's Dad?" Amber asked.
"He's very busy, as usual. Right now he's in Boston meeting with one of his biggest clients. He said to tell you he'd try to be here by the time you skate your program."
Amber ignored the twinge of disappointment. "He'd try? But he's going to make it, right?"
Her mother shrugged. "He said he'd try. You know how busy your father is, Amber. But I'm here. I'm always here."
She reached across the table to squeeze her mother's hand. "Yes, you are. Thank you for that."
Her mother looked surprised by the gesture. "You're welcome. Now tell me what you've been up to."
"I'm roommates with Lisa Peterson again."
"Really? That's unusual."
"Not really. Lisa made arrangements for it to happen."
Her mother frowned. "I didn't know she had that kind of pull."
Amber laughed. "I don't know what kind of pull you need as far as putting roommates together, but I love Lisa, so I'm glad we're roomies."
"Hmm," her mother said.
Amber had no idea what that meant. "Anyway, we've been hanging out in groups. I've made friends with so many of my fellow figure skaters."
"Oh, Amber, you know I don't think that's a good idea."
She sighed. "Why, Mom? Why isn't that a good idea? How could me making friends with other skaters possibly hurt the way I skate?"
"It clouds your perspective, takes away your competitive edge."
"That's such a load of bullshit."
"Amber Sloane. You will not speak to me that way."
Her first instinct was to take it back, but she had to start acting like an adult, and it was high time her mother stop treating her like a child. "Come on, Mom. I've made friends with a seventeen-year-old who's my teammate. Tell me how me being friendly with her, or with pairs skaters and male individual skaters, could possibly affect my competitive edge?"
Their waitress brought their lunch, so her mother waited before she answered. She looked around the restaurant, as if there were someone here who could possibly be interested in what she had to say. Amber wanted to roll her eyes but she held back, figuring she'd already pushed her mother's buttons enough.
Her mom leaned forward and whispered. "First, because that level of friendliness relaxes you instead of you constantly being on your toes. Second, you could lose your focus. Instead of seeing these fellow skaters as competitors, you view them as your friends. And because they're your friends, you might not want to beat them on the ice. It reduces your edge."
Amber stared at her mother for a few seconds. "That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. We all want to win a gold medal. How could you possibly think that hanging out with these people could affect my performance on the ice?"
Her mother bit into her sandwich, chewed then swallowed. "Because I've seen it happen. Not in skating, but in dance. You have a group who go out together, get friendly, and all of a sudden they don't work as hard as they once did because they didn't hold themselves separate from their competition. Or maybe they heard so-and-so's sob story about how if they don't win it will affect their lives in a negative way, and subconsciously it causes them to alter their own performance."
Amber laid her fork down. "You mean someone from another country might be punished if they don't win gold, and that could affect my performance because I'm worried for their future?"
"Yes. That exactly."
"Mom. Come on. That's not going to happen. First off, no one has said anything like that to me, and second, even if they did, I have to skate for myself, not anyone else."
"I'm glad to hear you say that, but still, there's a good reason I never wanted you to get close to other skaters."
Amber pushed the lettuce around on her plate. "Yeah, you never wanted me to have any friends."
Her mother gave her a critical look. "Do you really think that was the reason?"
She lifted her gaze to her mother. "I was lonely. My entire life, I've been lonely, Mom. I'm tired of not having any friends. This competition, I have friends and I like it."
Her mother's hard stare continued. "And it's already affecting you. You were late for practice today."
She hated to admit her mom might have a point. She was late today, because she'd been out playing with Will last night. She had lost focus at a critical time in her performance schedule. But she'd never admit that to her mother.
She knew what she had to do, and she'd make sure to take care of the focus part.
It wouldn't stop her from having friends, though.
; "I've got it under control, Mom."
"We'll see, Amber. Just don't expect your father and I to continue to support your career if you're not willing to give one hundred percent of your time to it."
And now it was time for threats. She was so tired of the threats. She'd heard them for years, knew it was another method her mother used to control her. She gave her a direct stare, refusing to be cowed into submission any longer. "I'll continue to give it everything I have, just like I've always done. You and Dad do what you have to do."
She got up and came around the table, kissing her mother on the cheek again. "Thanks for lunch. I'll see you again soon."
She put on her coat on the way out the door, slid on her beanie and her gloves and headed back toward the village.
She was halfway there when the trembling started.
What had she done? She was so fucked.
That had been a first. She'd never once stood up to her mother. Her mother had always been her confidant, the person she'd gone to in times of crisis. Family was all she had and she might have just screwed that up.
She wasn't brave. She was dependent on her parents, had no source of income and had just basically told her mother to go fuck herself.
Oh, God. That had been so incredibly stupid. Her breathing increased, then a wave of dizziness and nausea swept over her and she could barely feel her limbs. She was cold and hot at the same time.
Her heart rate skyrocketed. She wasn't going to be able to make it back to the village.
She stopped and sat on a nearby bench, realizing she was having a panic attack. She stared straight ahead, blocking out everything around her. She forced her breathing to slow, to draw deep, even breaths.
Okay, Amber, what to do, what to do.
She didn't know who to turn to.
Yes, she did.
She pulled her phone out of her pocket and found herself sending the text message, despite her better judgement, despite her resolve to focus, to steer clear.
It didn't matter. Not right now. She didn't care. She needed him.
The reply came instantly. When she could manage to breathe evenly again, she stood and started walking. When she arrived back at the village, Will was in the main lobby waiting for her.
He took her hand, concern etched on his face. "What's wrong? You're pale. Are you sick?"
She shook her head. "I had lunch with my mother."
"That must have been some lunch. Wanna talk about it?"
She shook her head. "No. I just need . . ."
The sentence trailed off. She didn't know what she needed. Other than comfort and strong arms around her.
