Page 81 of Thrown for a Loop
Ofcoursemy mother made Chase block me. Of course she did. But then she lied about it, which is so much worse.
This is what men do, she said.They tell you they love you, and then they leave.I believed her, too. Because it was demonstrably true.
Or was it? On the one hand, it’s not like Chase to obey my mother’s rules even after she fired him. But he was only nineteen, and he’d just lost his job, and apparently there’s more to the story than I thought.
Meanwhile, Veena has emailed, asking Chase and me for our musical selection. And Chase has been silent. He’s on a road trip and likely busy. But that leaves me to obsess about it alone and replay the footage from our ill-fated practice.
It’s hard to watch without cringing. Every step, every stroke, every move was out of sync. On our best try, we made it only fifty seconds into the routine before we almost killed each other.
What’s happened to us? We used to be effortless.
We need more practice. But even if Chase were speaking to me, we couldn’t rehearse this week. The team has flown off to play both teams from Florida. Darcy went with them, leaving me to brood alone in my apartment.
All the wrong people are trying to get in touch with me, too.There are passive-aggressive texts from my mom, asking when she can visit. I’m so mad at her that I don’t acknowledge them at all.
Then I get a text from my uncle nagging me to call my mother, because she’s worried about me. I ignore him, too.
The one thing that goes well is that I finally get my first paycheck from the Legends. I immediately write a rent check to my management company, with an apology.Sorry about the delay! It won’t happen again.
Here’s hoping.
On my last day of solitude, I head over to the practice facility, which is a ghost town. My plan is to figure out how the Legends’ camera equipment works, and maybe even do a little figure skating.
Alone on the big rink, I lace up my figure skates and take a few laps. Maybe I should simplify our routine. The audience only wants to see Chase do some figure skating. If I just got out of the way, he could probably do okay on his own.
Maybe we can trade off somehow, taking turns as the lead skater while the other person circles in an unobtrusive way?
That would just be weird, says the panel of judges in my head.
You shut up, I answer back.
I grab my phone off the bench and crank up our music. At center ice, I close my eyes and just let the song wash over me. I’m not the same girl I was the first time I choreographed a routine to this music. I didn’t have a bad knee, a broken heart, and a failed marriage.
I didn’t really understand that hearts could break, even if the composer was valiantly trying to warn me.
The powerful chorus pulls me to center ice, where I limber up with some simple spirals and chassés. The chords are as familiar as breathing. I find myself noodling with the choreography. Maybe the pair spins have to go. We could try another lift, maybe.
I restart the music several times, playing with my options. Ihaven’t done this in years—prepping a routine for an audience. It’s like visiting a past life. And this music has so much potential for drama. I bet Chase can still do a knee slide. Those are easy but flashy. So I throw a few of them, experimenting with the rhythm and the beat.
Then I follow that up with an Ina Bauer, which means skating in a backbend, to see if I still have the flexibility to pull it off.
Yup. Still got it.
Then I skate the routine the old way, straight through to the end. I finish in a plié, as originally choreographed, my hand curving into half of a heart shape.
How fitting, really.
I’m startled when someone lets out a wolf whistle. When I look around for the perpetrator, it’s Aiden Sharp, waving to me from the bench.
“Hey, Zoe,” he says. “You had some questions about the cameras? I saw your email.”
When I try to answer him, I find that I’m panting. I haven’t skated full out like that for a long time. “I would love to hear about the cameras,” I say when I can catch my breath. “But I’m surprised to see you here. Is the team back already?”
“Got back an hour ago,” he says. “Happy to tour you around the equipment. The software is a little glitchy.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it.”
He shows me how to affix the tripod to the boards, and I pretend that I actually need help with that part. And after we set up the first two cameras, he shows me how to link them together over Wi-Fi so the images can be synced up later for analysis.
