Page 89 of Melt His Heart

I pinch my brows and sigh, frustration bubbling under my skin, “Then you should be fine to win and…” My father presses, “Ok well, we should go and let you prepare.” My mom interjects, worry etched in her features as she rubs my arm gently.

“Thanks,” I whisper to her before she nods and ushers my dad out of the room.

The tension rolls off my shoulders, but only by a bit. I can’t let my thoughts get the best of me.

As the time for me to go on the ice nears, I feel my nerves amping up after my interaction with my parents, my dad mostly. I flex my back and try to go into breathing exercises. Everything will be fine, I’ve been practicing this skate for months now, there’s nothing to worry about. I try to lock the pressure I feel away somewhere deep inside, at least until my short program is over.

“You’re up. You’re an Olympian, remember that.” My coach says firmly, and I nod. I have to believe this about myself. I know. I do believe it.

I can do this. It’s nothing I haven’t done before.

I walk to the mouth of the ice, and when my name is announced as the next skater for short programs, I take a deep breath, gliding out with a graceful bow.

I get into position for the start of my routine. My body flows across the ice as the music starts. I still feel the nerves, but I feel they slowly slip away as I land my first jump perfectly and the crowd cheers. I go into the next part of my routine with a bit more confidence, hitting everything perfectly.

But as I’m preparing to go into my biggest toe jump, for this program, quad lutz, I catch a glimpse of my parents’ faces in the crowd. My mother is wearing a small smile, my father is watching me intensely, and I can’t tell what he’s thinking.

The thought of his expression being one of disapproval.

I fly through the air, missing my footing, my entire body landing out on the ice.

The pain is minimal but enough that I wince getting back onto my feet. The crowd gasps in shock because it’s a jump that will cost me greatly. I cringe, disappointed in myself as I finish out the rest of my routine nearly perfect, but I know that fall could end everything here.

I don’t even look at my parents in the crowd as I bow and depart from the ice. Coach Peters meets me at the gate and gives me a pat on the back.

“It’s ok, we can recover in the free skate, Julian, don’t let it get to you.”

That’s easy to say in theory, don’t let it get to you, don’t overthink it. But in reality, this is soul-crushing. I feel like I’m dying. I feel stupid for missing a jump I’ve landed hundreds of times in practice and in competition.

Why? Because I got scared of what my father was thinking while he was watching me? I clench my fists as the judges present my scores, and while yes, Coach is right, this can be recovered in my free skate. But I’m now put in a vulnerable state if other skaters do well. My free skate has my hardest jumps consecutively, so we were banking on my short program going off without a hitch. I only had to land one high-scoring jump.

I’m seething. I want to cry.

* * *

I avoid talking to my parents when the competition is over for the day and turn in early. Tomorrow has to be perfect, and I need to get these horrible feelings out before then. I haven’t checked my phone since leaving the arena.

I finally check it as I let my body sink into the soft hotel mattress, feeling a bit better after showering. Not by much, though.

Carson: baby…are you ok?

Carson: julie its ok…you’re going to kill the free skate.

Carson: hey….

I feel horrible for not answering, I realize now he’s probably thinking I’m going to disappear on him again.

Me: Hey..I’m ok, thanks Carson.

Carson: i’m sorry bby, tomorrow is going to be better!

Me: I hope. I wish you were here.

Carson: me too :( sorry

Carson: you looked beautiful today btw…

Me: Oh….Thank you.