He bends down toward me, his lips close to my ear. I dig my nails into my thighs. “Do you think he’ll still want you when he knows how hard, how often Ifuckedyou? Do you think he will, Paisley?”
After all the beatings, all the abuse and courage Ivan took from me, this line is the humiliating crown. I feel disgusting. I feel used.
“I didn’t want that,” I manage to say. “I never did.”
“Oh, Paisley.” He runs a finger down my temple, twirls a strand of my hair. “I know that. But do you think that plays any role? Who’s interested in whatyouwant?”
Me.
His hand lands on my crotch. I struggle for air and push him away. He bangs into the mannequin with the skating dress. It falls over, and the saleswoman comes out of the back room.
Her glance lands on the mannequin, before she moves from Ivan to me. “Is everything okay?”
I don’t respond. I run. Past the tables, past the hockey sticks and ski poles. Out the door and straight down the street, past Vaughn, the guy who sings about reindeers and Christmas elves, two, three, four streets, straight downtown. Past the bell tower, past The Old-Timer,past William, who wants to tell me something, but I’m too quick, and onward, ever onward, past the last houses until I’m completely alone. I run until I’m out of breath, I run until I can hear the tall fir trees whisper my name and can find a place to hide beneath them. I sit right down in the snow, my back against the trunk. My bottom becomes wet. I take heavy, quick breaths and only now do I recognize where I am.
In front of me, the icy sheen of Silver Lake glitters in the sun. My heart wants to weep. I was so happy in that store, was smiling while placing all those beautiful things in my shopping basket, was just so happy that I could buy them for myself. Now they’re on the floor and I’m sitting here, hardly able to catch my breath. I’m panting, slamming my palms against the snow and screaming. The scream echoes through the mountains.
I don’t want it to be over. My life in Aspen. My life with Knox. I don’t want it to be over. My life.
But I don’t have any choice. I know that Ivan won’t give up. I know it because there’s a legal basis he can use against me if he wants. Even if I simply wanted to stay in Aspen, he couldforceme to go back to Minneapolis. He would take the matter to court, and he knows that I don’t stand a chance. Not me. Because, let’s be honest, who am I?
I’m Paisley. Paisley, the trailer-park roach. Paisley, the daughter of a crack whore.
My fingers are numb as I claw at the zipper of my sports bag. The laces of my skates escape me, but I grab them a second time and manage. They land in the snow, right next to my tears. I pick at the knots, slip inside, and tie them back up. It doesn’t matter where I am, it doesn’t matter how I feel: as soon as my feet are stuck inside of a pair of skates, I am home.
The ice crunches beneath my blades. I absorb the sound and store it in my imaginary jam-jar. Or wait, no, in my peanut butter jar. Peanut butter because Knox has that memory of his mom—“Didyou polish off my peanut butter?”—and I think it’s so warm, so sad, so precious that from now on, it will be for my most beautiful moments.
I take off into a triple axel. I land it and laugh. I laugh, then cry, both at the same time. How ironic that I land it right now, right here. One day before Skate America. How ironic that I managed to do it, but that Ivan could manage to stop meonce again.
I don’t know how long I spend out on the ice saying goodbye to my life in Aspen, but at some point, it’s dark and the lights in the surrounding lanterns snap on. I skate to the end of the lake, change direction with a mohawk turn, but come to a backward stop when I make out the shadow of a person I know beneath the fir tree.
“Did he find you? Is that why you weren’t at training?” Polina’s hands are stuck deep into the pockets of her fur coat. “Ivan?”
I’m starting to feel dizzy. “How…”
“You think I don’t inform myself about my students?”
I’m like a deer caught in headlights. Polina pushes off the trunk and comes out to me on the ice. She’s not wearing skates, but her movements are sure. She stops right in front of me and sits down. Her hand grabs mine, pulls me softly down next to her. It’s cold. She’s sitting on her coat; all I’ve got are my wet jeans. All the same, I stay put.
“I know where you’re from. I know that you can’t really be here. I’ve known it from the beginning.”
I think I’m going to freeze to death. Her words are worse than the ice. “Then why did you train me?”
Polina looks at me. Then she reaches into her coat and pulls out two little bottles of booze. Jägermeister. “Here, drink this. It’s cold.”
She hands me one. I look at her and wonder if she’s serious, out here on Silver Lake with our numb butts, but she’s already unscrewing the top, so I do the same. We toast each other and down the shot in one go. My throat is burning. But I start to feel a little warmer, not much, but a little, as I’m already frozen.
“I trained you because I knew that you were passionate aboutwhat you do. When you skate, you areon fire. You shine. I knew that you weren’t happy. However, I knew that you weren’t sad either. You’re simply empty. And then I saw how, little by little, Aspen filled you with life. I was certain that, sooner or later, he’d show up. But you know what?”
“What?”
“You’ve got to keep going, Paisley. You didn’t come this far just to get this far. You can do it. You’re stronger than he is.”
“What if I’m not?”
“Oh, Paisley.” Polina presses my upper arm. “What if you are?”
Then she stands up and leaves.
