Page 72 of Facing Off
It doesn’t work.
I see them, and they destroy my peace of mind. My hand clenches the handle of my wooden spoon so hard it creaks.
“What?” demands Sonya, whipping her head around my kitchen. “You sent twenty siren emojis in a row and said it was an emergency!”
“And you came?” This feeling rises. The kind that makes me want to look down at my feet to see if they’ve lifted off the ground.
“Because you said it was anemergency,” Sonya reiterates, jabbing a finger in my direction. “And—and—” She sputters, “Icameto return the favor. To equal out the fact that you went to the hospital for me—” She looks around the kitchen again. Her hands fold together as her mouth tightens. “But where exactly is the emergency, Hughes?”
I smile and bring the wooden spoon covered in sauce towards her. “Taste this, darling.”
My entire neighborhood probably hears Sonya shriek. Instead of sampling my wonderful sauce, she pivots and storms away.
I move fast, going around to block her. The start of my kitchen is an archway. By the time I’ve caught her by the waist, we’ve become wedged in there. She fits against me so easily, her smaller frame swallowed by mine. A lock of my hair falls forward as I let go and place both hands above her head, palming the wall. Trying not to trap her…but also kind of trapping her.
“I’ll kick you,” she informs me, violence lighting up her eyes.
“You can gladly kick me any time,” I promise, chuckling—then just as quickly, sobering up. “But first, give me a chance to ask. Please? How’s your ballet?”
“My ballet?” Her face contorts.
“Are you still…falling?”
Sonya holds my gaze for a long moment like she’s wondering whether to say anything. Holding my breath, I force myself to wait.
Finally, I get a tiny nod. “I can’t stop. It’s like I’m blocked.”
Well, that kills me. “Like a performance block?”
Denial and panic flash in her dark eyes. “No, I refuse to think?—“
“Hockey players get those, too,” I interrupt, trying toreassure her. “Any athlete could. If that’s what’s happening?—“
She grips the front of my shirt. “What’s your point?”
“I don’t know. It’s just I think they don’t usually go away on their own.”
She snaps her head to the side, hiding her expression from me. Still, I see her throat rise up and down slowly, and all I fucking want to do is to hug her.
Instead I keep talking, spilling everything I know, knowing she needs only the whiff of an excuse to leave. “Sonya, I, um, called you over to check up on you, but now I’m thinking. One of the Wings’ trainers used to talk about something like this. He was working with a player who went from winning the Hart Memorial Trophy one season to missing most of their shots the next. He had a case of the yips.” I rush over my words, needing them out. “Have you heard of the yips? It’s mostly the same thing as a performance block. When you suddenly lose control of your skills. The skills you thought you had nailed.”
A muscle ticks in her jaw. “…Okay, and did that trainer fix him?”
If I was alone, I’d drop my forehead to a wall and bang it a couple times. Anything to distract from the raw ache spearing through my chest.Darling, you aren’t something that needs to be fixed.Not now.Not ever.
“The player’s yips went away” My heart constricts. “But it took a while.”
“I have less than a month now before Bob Pepita’s audition.”
My timer beeps, letting me know my garlic bread is done. Slowly, I head towards the oven, because even a second longer by her side and I won’t be able to stop myself. I will take Sonya into my arms and hold her tight.
Dinner is ready. I plate up two servings of spaghettiand push hers across the kitchen island while my ballerina stares at me. “I made too much. You should have some.”
She doesn’t move. To stop myself from pushing harder, I pick up a fork and take a bite, not tasting anything.
In the meantime, Sonya’s palms rub against her pants, before she jams them into her pockets. “You know what, thanks for sharing all that. I’ll look into it myself.”
Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I incline my head, even as I’m scrambling on the inside.If she has the yips, what can I do? What will help her?
