Page 38 of Powder
Jack: Not happening. But I’ll score a goal for you instead.
I laughed at the screen, cheeks aching from how hard I smiled.
Tian: I love you, my Jack <3
Jack: I love you too, Tian xxx
I missed him so much it hurt, and sitting at the table with Mom and Dad, the familiar creak of chairs, the smell of roast chicken—it should have been comfort, but my mind spun circles. I had four more years of chasing medals and points, and with hard work and a lot of luck, going all the way to the 2030 Olympics. But Jack only had a short time on his contract. What then? Would he move to Colorado? Could I ask him to do that? What about Fiona? What about his friends? Was I thinking about long-distance for the next four years? Was that even possible? Should I stop now while I was ahead?
My head hurt.
“I was reading the local paper this morning,” Mom said with a little smile. “They called you the pride of the town.”
“I saw,” Dad said. “And Mrs. Childers at the grocery store taped the clipping right to the counter with a little ‘Go Tian!’ note underneath.”
This should have made me smile, but my thoughts drifted back to Jack, back to what we’d shared and what we hadn’t figured out yet. “… and then the elephant walked straight through the produce aisle,” Mom finished. “What do you think of that?”
“Hmmm?” I said, not really listening.
“The elephant in the produce aisle,” she said.
I blinked, frowning. “Wait, what?”
She arched an eyebrow knowingly. “Exactly. You’re not listening.”
Heat rushed to my face. “Sorry, Mom.”
Dad made a face at me, then picked up the dirty crockery and wandered off to wash up, rattling dishes in the sink. I pushed my chair back to help, but Mom touched my wrist. “Let your father fuss. Sit and talk to me, sweetheart.”
I slumped, staring at the table, and for a moment, it felt like being back in school, when Mom was the one who always cut through my tangled thoughts.
“What’s wrong, Tian-Lei?”
“Nothing.” I scrubbed my eyes. “Everything.”
“Is this about Jack?” she asked with her clever-mom perception.
“Yeah,” I admitted, my throat tight. “I love him, Mom.”
She reached over and grasped my hand. “Of course you do. And he loves you back. It’s what we’ve always wanted for you.” Her eyes grew bright with emotion. “It’s everything for a parent to see their child happy.”
My throat tightened. “I miss him so much. We’d only just gotten together and now we’re a million miles apart, and I hate it.”
Mom squeezed my hand, then tugged me forward into her arms. I let myself sink into the hug, breathing in the familiar scent of home, wrapped in safety. Mom’s hugs were the kind of hugs that made the world stop spinning, that made everything feel solid again, as if nothing bad could reach me while she held me. They were there when I was small, when I’d had problems at school, when I’d realized I was gay, when I’d come out to her and received nothing but unconditional love from her and Dad in return.
“Missing someone means they matter, Tian.”
“We’re so far apart now.”
“That doesn’t mean the distance has to win.”
I shook my head. “It feels like it is. Some days I don’t even know how I’m going to balance it all—training, travel, and him.”
“You don’t have to have all the answers tonight,” she reminded me, her voice steady. “But don’t confuse missing him with losing him. Those are two very different things.”
Her words sank deep, the kind of wisdom she’d always had when I was a kid and thought the world was too heavy for me to carry.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” I admitted. “Snowboarding’s everything, but I think Jack is more than that. Should I feel that way?”
