30. #ALaRusse, March 2018

A red ball bumped Daya on the nose, but, luckily, the touchdown was feather light. "I'm sorry, my dears." She had totally missed what the cold-fusion powered twins were yelling at her before the ball had gotten her attention.

Pausing a recording of a dance routine every time Pavel curled up his fingers made her a touch absent-minded.

"Shush, Auntie Daya is working." Shanti gathered the kids to her.

"She's sitting in the chair!" Rajni pointed out, ducking away from her mom. She chased the ball to the corner of the living room and passed it to Veer, while Shanti flailed her arms ineffectually. Veer, with his tongue between his teeth, caught the thing out of the air.

Daya stretched up in the chair. "I think you should sign them up for basketball."

"Maybe in May. But no ball games upstairs!" Shanti wagged her finger.

"Give me that before you hurt yourself." Daya crooked her finger at Veer and was rewarded with a pass. "No more work! Let's go downstairs and have some fun!"

The twins pounded down the stairs in an avalanche of feet, hands and flying shoes. The whoops of delight resonated from the basement playroom.

"Are you sure you can take my little turbo-jets on? You look tired."

Daya grinned. "It's good for me. I'm going crazy waiting on Her Majesty Belousova to give us her yay or nay. Plus, the little ones are like Pavel-training simulator. Gods, the guy has a second wind, and the fifth, and the hundredth..."

Shanti's brow creased. "You talk a lot about him..."

Daya was sure she was about to ask about Mike, but two impish faces popped around the door, one atop another, two pairs of eyes alive with mischief. "Auntie Daya!" the twins chorused.

"I'm coming!"

The little feet thundered back down.

Shanti sighed. "Ten to twenty more times up and down that staircase, and maybe, just maybe, they will get tired enough to fall asleep without giggling for half the night. I should probably put them in separate rooms, but I don't have the heart... they're twins."

And you don't have a spare bedroom, thanks to me.

"Do what feels right," Daya said. "And, heck, I might fall asleep after this too. I need it."

"How're you holding up, sis?" Shanti threw a quick glance down the stairs, but the concerned frown returned to her face. "I heard you sobbing the other night."

"I want to call Mike every night. I decide against it every morning. What will I tell him? Everything is peachy, I'm waiting on gods know what?"

A heavy sigh escaped her lips before she spelled out for Shanti the imaginary conversation she held in her head with Mike a million times already. "Then he'll talk in that soft voice of his about how it's fine to be content... and I can't afford to be content right now. I can't jump into the car and drive all the way back after walking out like a mad dog bit me."

Shanti lowered herself into the chair that Daya had just vacated and placed her chin on the steepled fingers. "You never told me what had happened between you. Whose fault was it that you rushed back to Ontario?"

"Mine," Daya said without a moment's hesitation.

Her sister smiled a secret, knowing smile. "It's on him then."

"Shanti! Please, just believe me. Your baby sister can screw up. I lashed out at a nice guy, and... and... destroyed it all. Then I barged into your life with my problems... I'm a horrible, selfish person."

"We all are, but at least you recognize it." It hurt a little that Shanti didn't fervently deny her self-flagellation.

"Call him, Daya. When you're ready, obviously, but these things, they slip away from you. And I'd never heard you cry over a guy before."

"I'll call him." She knew how the things you wanted slipped away... "I'll call him after I had fixed myself."

With that promise, she dashed downstairs.

The red ball flew into her hands the moment her bare feet touched the bottom step. The twins jumped around her, reaching for it. She lifted the ball up, teasing them, before tossing it across the cozy room strewn with stuffed animals. They darted after, squealing with glee.

Her cell phone beeped in the pocket sewn onto the belt of her pants. She dug it out to see thumbs up smiley from Pavel. Immediately followed by the acceptance text from Belousova. Followed by a fee estimate that made Daya grab the wall. Hopefully that was half-and-half with Pavel, not just her share. Either way, she must find another gig to pay her way, but darn it! It was happening! Her moping was over.

She bounded back up the stairs faster than the kids, two or three steps at a time, thrusting the phone up in the air.

"Shanti, Shanti, the game's on!"

Shanti wrapped Daya in a hug. "Well, well. Now you have news to share with Mike."

Call him, hung in the air, unsaid.

***

There are magical skaters that even the experienced eye would have trouble picking in a practice group. Their talent is at rest until the rink is theirs.

Pavel didn't belong in that category.

Whenever he went on the ice, his internal combustion went into overdrive, threatening to go up like a flair. Every new student joining Belousova's growing group got sucked into his orbit, even while Daya and him simply skated hand in hand, laying down the basics of their partnership.

That made a lot of things easier, since Daya knew from the first moment where Pavel was, his aura palpable. But it wasn't all good... Pavel was fast, and Daya's focus narrowed down to this one thing, matching the aggressiveness with which he threw himself on the ice, rather than bringing him down a notch. She no longer stayed up, but fell asleep exhausted to dream in bright splotches of motion.

Belousova watched them from the boards with her lips pursed in a thoughtful line. The gray eyes followed Daya for a while, then stopped on her face.

Drawn in by their nearly magnetic pull, she released Pavel's hand and cut to a stop in front of the coach. Pavel flew up, twisting his blades to a dead stop an inch behind her shoulder. The snow from his blades showered her ankles.

Belousova's brow quirked. The motion was barely there, but Daya had noticed it a few times. Maybe the outwardly stern woman was not without a sense of humor. "I'm satisfied that you skate safe together. But what I see is two skaters skating with one another. What I don't see is a skating pair. You have one more week. Then I decide if we're putting you into regional qualifiers this season, or if we need it to prepare you properly."

"Irina Andrevna—" Pavel started, tilting his head, enclosing Daya's shoulders in a hug, squeezing it a little with her fingers. His powerful heart was still pushing blood with a relentless beat of a steel mill against her back. She guessed that a grin of particular magnificence bloomed overhead.

"No," Belousova said flatly. "No, SoroKIN, you will not get into this fall's Challenge on byes. It's not my custom to call in favors, no matter what they say. You'll work your way in from the ground up, and earn the minimum score before this July. If you have to skate in a barn before three chickens and a cat, you'll do that. Or you do it later, and it will be the next season for the Challenge and your first crack at the Nationals. Understood?"

Pavel's chest rose and fell a few times. "I respect your integrity more than anything else in the world."

"Good." Belousova clapped her hands. "Take five to bring down that color in Sorokin's face, then the next 45 minutes goes into side by side individual elements."

Pavel's hand on her shoulder guided Daya to the bench. "Daya, I want to be in contention for the Nationals this season, with a shot at Team Canada. Do you?"

She nodded, and bent to wipe the snow off her blade. "I think so."

"Then I need your full attention on me. All of it."

"I know. I'm getting there." Her voice sounded weak even to her. She took a deep breath in, leaned her head sideways until she held Pavel's eyes. "I want to compete as much as you do. Maybe more than you, because I left something important behind for this chance. And gods know, I love being on the ice with you. You're challenging and exciting, and your energy blasts the stars out of the sky. I'm fighting what stands between us and the Challenge."

Pavel rubbed her back, blew out a sigh, then pushed up on his feet. His shoulders rolled back and relaxed that tiny fraction needed to change his posture from excellent to cocky. He offered his hand. "On your feet, soldier."

She put on a glamorous smile and inserted her palm into his. "You honor me, Sir."

"One week, Daya." He pulled her up to her feet.

She leaned back, giving him a smoldering stare. "One week, Pavel. That's our first challenge, to convince Belousova."

He gave her a lopsided grin. "Now you're talking!"

She tugged his arm, bringing him nose to nose with her, getting a whiff of the watermelon gum. Surprise glinted in his light eyes. "And to win Belousova, you need to give me your full attention as well. Keep your speed in check, Flash."

"Oh, snap." The grin took over the other side of his face too, the eyes so bright it could serve as the streetlights. "Got it. Let's do it!"

She allowed herself a millisecond of softness, fantasising about texting Mike. If we get into the Challenge, that would be fixing things... definetely fixing.