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"Why not try again? The Olympic tryouts are coming up again this year, and I've watched you out on the ice. You're just as good as you've ever been… maybe better. I can condition with you until we can find you a suitable partner."
"Slade, I'm too old to try now. And finding a partner already skating at an Olympic level isn't going to want to skate with someone who's been out of the game for so long."
"Fine, I still think you should try again, but if you won't skate professionally, then at least skate with me."
"No offense but you have no business in competitive figure skating even I was interested. Plus, you could get injured and lose your hockey contract."
"Let me worry about what happens if I get hurt. And I'm not suggesting that we compete professionally. Just skate with me here in the mornings like you do now. Just do it with me," he says.
Is he crazy?
The skates are different—the technique is different.
Where hockey requires brute strength, ability to change direction in seconds, and hand-eye coordination, figure skating requires fluid and graceful movement, impeccable timing and body awareness with your partner, and the longevity for programs spanning longer than a hockey player is out on the ice at any given one time.
They’re both demanding sports but require different skill sets. I can’t teach him everything he needs to know in a morning crash course. However, the idea of having a partner even just to practice in the mornings with again is tempting. And I’ve seen Slade’s ability to lift and his endurance while in the passenger seat of my car.
I don’t doubt that he’s strong enough for lifts and spins, but is it worth letting Slade get close just to have someone to skate with?
“How do you know the routine? We never skated it professionally,” I say.
“Your coach uploaded short videos of it. I’ve studied most of it, but there are some missing pieces that I’ve been trying to fill in by watching you.”
“You’ve been watching me skate? Like… in the stands? Without telling me you’re here?” I ask, my eyebrows furrowing at the thought of Slade standing around watching me.
“Would you have skated that freely if you knew I was watching?” he asks.
I ignore his question because honestly… I’m not sure.
And I’m not exactly thrilled that he’s been watching me without me knowing. But on the other hand, coming to watch me skate and scouring the internet to find ancient videos of my coach posted in order to become a partner for me to skate with is… oddly, sweet.
“Can I think about it?” I ask.
“Sure,” he says, the disappointment in his frown showing through. “I leave tomorrow for Denver. We’ll talk when I get back?”
“Yeah. I’ll see you when you get back. Good luck tomorrow.”
“Thanks. I’ll let you get back to skating,” he says, then turns to skate out of the rink.
“Hey,” I say before he reaches the player's tunnel opening. “Are you going to hide out and lurk around, watching me in the shadows?” I ask.
He stops and looks over his shoulder. “Not this time. The stadium is yours.”
He steps out off the ice and then turns one last time.
“Want a sticky bun with your chai today?”
I bite down on my lips trying hard not to smile as wide as I want to.
“Sure, that would be great. Thanks.”
He nods and then turns back to leave.
A part of me wants to call him back and agree to skate with him, but I don’t. I stand there and watch him until he disappears down the tunnel.
Agreeing to this means spending not only a lot more time with him but also this is a highly emotional program. It’s about a couple in love who face their own demons through the program and end up in each other’s arms.
It’s hard for me not to feel emotions while skating. It’s a part of who I am. I give my routine everything I have.
