“And you looked like Dumbo struggling to fly the rest of the time,” Grigory adds in a dry tone.
I flex my fingers. “I’ll do better next time.”
“There’s going to be more?” Nikolai asks in mock horror.
“Fuck you. And yes.”
“Don’t worry,” Nikolai replies. “We’ll be here with you until you get it.” And I can tell he means it in a supportive way. He might rib me, but he also cares in his own warped way.
Grigory tilts his head. “This is all for Avelina?”
I don’t answer. Which is answer enough.
When I’m alone in the office later, skates stowed in perfect symmetry, I sit with my spreadsheets open. The numbers are ordered, neat, predictable. I should feel calmer now. But all I can think about is how the blades scraped the ice. The imbalance. The uncertainty. I hate the unknown. I hate trial and error.
And yet…
I’m already planning the next lesson.Because there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for my girl.
The days pass by, and by the third lesson, I can stay upright most of the time.
That should feel like progress.
But it doesn’t.
Matvey calls it barely passable. Grigory mutters that Avelina’s gonna laugh her ass off when she sees me.
Every time I step onto the ice, I feel like the surface is one crack away from splintering into a million pieces. And that unease has started to spread. And it’s not just about the skating.
It’s about Avelina.
Any bumps in our relationship have been smoothed out. And she laughs more easily now.
That should make me feel settled.
But it doesn’t.
Because every time she smiles, I wonder how long I can keep this up. How long I can keep trying to fit her and her life.
When I try to sleep, my brain won’t shut off. The ceiling is blank, but my mind is full of chaos. Numbers. Variables. Scores.
She says she loves me. That should mean something.
But what islove? Because when people describe it, it’s always intensity, butterflies, or racing hearts.
For me, the feelings are…quieter. Deep maybe, but not loud. Am I feeling that all-consuming thing that people talk about? I start doing the scoring inside my head again. Thinking about the different ways I can score what’s happening. And I even think up how I can device a spreadsheet with the numbers and calculations. I can get to a seven, maybe eight, out of ten. But whatever way I try, I can’t get to a ten.
But if love is supposed to be a ten out of ten, does that mean I’m already failing? That I’m not capable of giving her everything?
It’s not that I don’t want to give her everything. I’m just not sure if I can.
I pass the den where Avelina and Sofia sit and do a puzzle.
Avelina’s hair catches the light. She looks happy and content. And then it hits me.I don’t know how to keep her like that.
I can protect her from a thousand threats. Put myself between her and any danger without hesitation. But when it comes to protecting the things inside her heart— the parts that need more than my brute force—I’m still learning this new language.
I know she said what I can give her is enough. But how can it be? What if she wakes up one day and realizes I can’t give her the kind of love she’s always imagined? The kind she and the kidsdeserve.
