“You could die, damn it!”
“I could die landing badly, too.”
“Yeah, that’s exactly right, and that will happen one day when you shoot your body full of unnatural stuff!” I take a deep breath and grab his hands. “Knox, please. Please. I’m begging you, please leave this shit alone.”
“My dad…”
“Oh, stop with that crap. Stop with your dad, Knox. You’re not a kid anymore who can’t make his own decisions. Your mom is dead, and that’s awful, really, it’s terrible. But you can’t spend the rest of your life trying to distract your dad. You all have to come to terms with it. Both of you. And that will never happen as long as your dad keeps on distracting himself by living through you and you by living your dad’s dream just so neither of you has to face your thoughts.”
Knox just stands there, he looks like he’s got a full-body cramp, then he collapses like a balloon with all the air let out. He slumps down onto the side of the bed and buries his head in his hands.
“Knox,” I say, softly this time, gently. I sit down next to him and place my hand on his back.
He exhales as if he were tired, dead tired, and runs his fingers through his hair before tilting his head and looking up at me. “You’re right. I know that, Paisley, I realize everything you’re saying. I feel like shit because of it all, I wish I could just throw it all away and buy my books for college, dig my nose in them, and read until it’s dark and I have to close my eyes in the dim light of the lamp on my nightstand. I want all that, absolutely, but I can’t, okay? I simply can’t because I don’t know how. How should I explain that to my dad? How am I supposed to handle his disappointment when I take away the only thing that’s made him happy since Mom died? How amIsupposed to be happy when my only remaining parent is sad?How?”
“By simply talking with him. He’ll understand, Knox. He’s your father, helovesyou, and he’ll understand.”
Knox’s eyes rest on me. His pupils are big, the green around them dull, not like the ones I love. Then he shakes his head. “It won’t work. If I give up the steroids, I’ll be done. I’ll have hormone disruptions, my performance will suffer, my muscles will shrink. I’ll never be able to prepare for the World Cup.”
“You can taper off your dose,” I say. “Of course you shouldn’t go cold turkey. Increase your intervals in between, and when you’re at seven days, start taking down the dose step by step. There are estrogen blockers, too. You can make it, if you want to.”
Knox looks at me, his forehead wrinkled.
I shrug. “I know some folks from Minneapolis who used to dope and then weaned themselves off it. It’s not impossible to do it and remain competitive.”
He takes a deep breath. “Paisley, what do you want to hear? ‘Of course. Absolutely, I’ll start right away?’ I can’t promise you that. I’m sorry, really, maybe we can work on it, but I just can’t swing it right now.”
Maybe it’s a start. It definitely is. But I can’t stop myself from getting angry because he’s playing with his health and for something hedoesn’t even want. I remove my hand from his back and dig my fingers into my thigh until red half-moons appear.
“Hey.” Knox moves to take my hand, but I stand up in order to find my clothes and put them back on. He turns to face me, leaning an arm on the bedframe. “Paisley, please don’t be like this.”
“It’s fine,” I say, pulling my hoodie over my head. “All good. It’s just that right now…it just really makes me mad, okay?”
He sucks in his lower lip then lets it back out. Then he nods. “Sure. I get that.”
He doesn’t say anything else. Just: “I get that.” Not: “We’ll manage. Just stand by as I deal with this. I want to stop taking this shit.”
The knot in my stomach is growing, running wild and cramping.In reality, I don’t want to go. In reality, I want to keep on standing here and yell at him before kissing him. Shake him before I sit on his lap and enjoy the feeling of his lips moving down my throat.
I don’t want to be angry at him, but I am, and I’d rather leave than keep talking, driving him into a corner, and making him feel closed in and harassed.
40
Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo
Paisley
I attempt a triple axel and land on all fours. For the seventh time. I scratch the ice with my fingernails and kick my skates against the side of the rink. I avoid looking at Polina because I already know what kind of looks she’s been giving me all morning. Training today is an absolute catastrophe.
I hear the sound of blades slowing down and then a shower of ice spray against my arm. Gwen offers me a hand and helps me up. “If you keep up like this, Harper’s going to be out of a job.”
I wipe my palms off on my training dress. “What?”
Gwen walks next to me with her Choctaw steps. Forward, outside edge of right foot, backward, inside edge of left foot, before she continues to walk normally and looks at me. “I mean, it’s Harper’s job to screw up jumps. What’s up with you, Paisley?”
In reality, I should be going through my program as long as it takes until the axel lands, but it does me good to take a breather and walk a few steps with Gwen. It’s easy.
I pull aside my dress’s turtleneck and scratch my neck. “Yesterday Knox and I had a little…difference of opinion.”
