41. #Free, January 2019

I fell. I fell. I shouldn't have fallen on the 3S. The white light made Daya dizzy.

Pavel breathed heavily, his powerful heart racing. Thank gods for the muscle memory—the twelve eager muscles remembered how to put a smile on her face.

But the rest was sublime!

"We did it?" she asked Pavel and curtsied to the judges' side. "Do you think we did it?"

"Yes. Look there... your cowboy." He spun her again, without the added flare this time.

She saw Mike standing on the other side of the boards with a smile of his own. Well, he loved it, so that's—

And then she grasped what Pavel wanted her to see. Not just Mike. No. A flower girl on the interception course, a little sparkling shuttle between her and Mike.

Usually, the girls circled unobtrusively to pick up the stuffies and the flowers thrown on the ice, but this one broke the rules. She was going straight for her. The girl held the familiar blue rose, but not by the stem... one small hand cupped under the silk flower instead. The girl's face was pinched  in concentration.

What's going on?

In two more seconds the girl extended the rose to her, the stressed expression melting into a grin.

Oh. That's why...

Mike had plucked out the petals from the middle of the flower, and fixed a ring inside it. Daya could not blame the girl—that ring would titillate a barracuda. The girl giggled at her face and took off, throwing side glances and giggling... the full flower squad was doing the same, both those on the ice and the bench players.

Pavel's unwavering hand guided her to the gate, while she shook her head at Mike. She had found one guy who wanted to break Skate Canada...

Then another realization dawned on her. "You were in on it," she accused Pavel. Two guys, I've found two guys...

Pavel stepped over the threshold and steadied her elbow for her to snap the blade guards on.

"The cowboy showed up yesterday. He asked if he could propose while we were waiting for the results. I said, no, my friend, that won't fly with the security and anyhow, Daya and I will be in the pen for the medal potentials. Here's her room number, thank me later."

"Medal potentials? There's seven pairs this year, each with years of experience on us. You're dreaming in—" the penny dropped. Daya's eyes popped out of their sockets. "You gave him my what?!"

"Irina Andrevna had the exact same reaction. She said that's not how we did things in Soviet Russia."

"Sorokin," Belousova said in a warning tone. "This is Kiss and Cry. You could be on the National Television."

Pavel grinned a duh, ma'am grin. "She called both of us... hmm, I would loosely translate it as dumbasses. Right, Irina Andrevna?"

The coach harrumphed.

"Then she whistled to the cutie-pie squad. I think they drew straws or something. Now, can we pay attention to what's important?" He pointed at the scoreboard. "Unless with this rock on your finger it isn't?"

His voice ended on a whining note.

Daya plucked out a stitch that held the ring to the middle of the flower and slipped it on her finger. Unhurriedly.

Pavel leaned away to show that he wasn't part of the package.

The rock was astonishing: almost the same electric blue as her dress. They perfected every facet of the cut over the centuries to maximize the amount of light the gem reflected. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

Figuring that Pavel had stewed for long enough, Daya tore her eyes away from the ring. "Don't fret. The scores're even more important now,"

The announcer on the loudspeaker echoed her. The scores for Dhawan and Sorokin—

"Pinch me..."

Sorokin obliged with glee.

"Ouch!"

"Wave and bow, then we need to move." That was Belousova's voice.

"But Irina Andrevna, this high? There is something unreal about it."

Mike, the ring, Pavel, the score... if it were a dream, if she woke up and found herself in a basement apartment with a day-job, she didn't know if she could keep her sanity.

"Get used to it," Pavel said.

Belousova's gaze burned like she had laser beams shooting out of her eyes. "You won't be the first, not after this short. There's six more pairs to skate and Mayers/Littleton will blow you out of the water. With a clean free, though, you could be in contention for the podium. But it must be clean, Dhawan. Clean, and delivered with passion, not the I-just-want-it-all-to-end like at the Challenge."

***

Daya's hands were still shaking, when Mike caught up to her. She leaned gratefully into his embrace and let him half-carry, half-walk her back to the hotel.

"I feel so ashamed, but I was hoping for the other guys to make mistakes," Mike whispered into her hair during the elevator ride. "And I might have squealed when you stayed in the third."

In the safety of their room, he stretched out on the bed, letting her drape over him. "Are you hurt?"

"Sore, but nothing bad." She held his face between her palms, searching it with her eyes instead of kissing.

"Still love me? Or was the ring too much of a showoff? I was worried about it, but your colleagues—"

"Maybe a little over the top, but the flower girl looked ecstatic, so I forgive you for folding to the Russians."

Daya moved her fingers to let the blue gem sparkle. "Belousova wants me to dig in deep, and I want to put Pavel on the podium tomorrow."

Mike raised a questioning eyebrow, and she dabbed it with a kiss.

"All for Pavel's sake, eh?" he whispered.

"Long story, and not mine to tell. But he really needs it." For the sake of changing the topic, she walked her fingers across his cheek to remove the glasses. With the way cleared, she could kiss his eyelids all she wanted. And she wanted it very much. His lips ended up on her neck, then ventured downhill to rob her of all coherent thought.

Almost.

"I can put everything I love together tomorrow." Daya gave into four just another second before sliding into the comfortable cove between Mike's side and his arm and flipping onto her back. "Pavel told me that classic music could be interpreted to tell any story. Juliet had hundreds of years to complain how mean her parents were about not letting her date a bad boy. All I have is four minutes on the ice to talk to the world."

"Mmgh, four hundred and twenty-odd years," he corrected and tickled her nose with a strand of her own hair. "No love for the bad boys?"

She shrugged. "I just want my program to be about more than this one old girl. I want it to be about recognizing love for what it is. I'm looking back, and I'm trying to remember the day and the hour when I've realized that I loved you. When I've realized that you loved me."

"So long as one of those throws doesn't stand for what you'd have wished to do to me."

Daya snuggled tighter. "Never-ever letting you go."

She thought of it long after Mike had fallen asleep. Everything was there, the choreography, the elements, the music. The only thing that was missing was what Belousova said.

Passion.

The idea did not fade overnight. On the contrary, Daya woke up with the conviction that her skating today must be about the here and now. You know, today.

In the reverse of their usual dynamic, it was her turn to flash Pavel confident smiles during the practices, all the way into the evening of the competition. "Don't worry, we'll be fabulous!"

"Never did."

And, finally, the ice was hers. All of it. For four minutes of do or die.

"It started with the ice," she sent Mike a telepathic message and let Pavel send her off into the step sequence.

And there was never an expectation of falling in love.

Triple Twist Lift. But if you don't expect something wonderful to happen to you, are you even living? Double Salchow, side by side.

When the beat of your heart makes you pause and think... Throw triple Lutz... what is happening? What is this sorcery? Double axel, Euler, Double Salchow...

And if this is love, do they love you back? You can't ask, you must approach it blindly just like I'm doing now. Reverse Lasso Lift.

What if they don't love you back? Throw Triple Flip.

Or if there are too many doubts, too many ups and downs, what's then? Cartwheel lift.

But you must take risks, for only those who do—Forward in death spiral.

Come out of the troubles standing.

Because when you're together, it's magic. Pair combo spin...

And this is all I have to say...

Final pose.

"Let them judge that," she whispered to Pavel, as he enveloped her in a bear hug. She felt a chuckle through his labored breathing.

Over many years she worked to built up tolerance to being dizzy, but now her head span, and she did not care.

It was only the second time in her life when her scores looked higher than she had dared to hope, but she could get used to it.

"Second, we're still coming in the second!"

She repeated it three more times.

"Silver," she told him, stepping up on the podium. "We have silver."

"Yeah," he murmured. "We do."

The quietude of his voice surprised her. She expected cockiness, and million watts shine, but instead he glowed with an old-fashioned subtlenesses of a firefly.

The new aspect of him was what triggered the recognition. He leaned forward on the podium to accept the medal—and Daya suppressed a gasp.

No way.

Oh yes, way.

The familial resemblance stared her in the face. The small curl of his lips, a relaxed set of his jaw, and I did it hooded eyelids. His arresting eyes—the wrong color eyes—had overshadowed it before, but it came to the forefront once he stopped being so desperately eager.

She could not unsee it.

She knew who Pavel compared himself to, and darn it, they had their work cut out for them to even start catching up to the glory.

I'm willing to skate my feet raw. And not just for her partner. For herself, for Mike, for happiness.

For world peace... yeah. But she chased the sarcasm away. This was not the hour for it, nor the day.

She leaned forward on the podium to embrace the shining world of lights and ice.

The winners have bad days. They have terrible days even.

But today was a good one, and she wanted to drink in every second of it.

The End

Calgary, Alberta, November 22, 2019

Last Edited: April 3, 2022

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