I clench my fists as if daring the bones in my fingers to crack.Champion.Golden boy.Crying in the back of a van.
I turn my face toward the window, wipe at my eyes with my sleeve, and watch the frozen forest slide by until the lights of Garmisch spill over the glass.
One week.That’s all I have before Kranjska Gora GS.
One week.Definitely not enough.I can’t race like this.
I make a decision and pull out my phone.
“Coach, I need a break.”I brace for Leitner’s tirade.He doesn’t give me one.
“I´ve got enough points, I know what I´m doing,” I go on, encouraged by his silence.
I feel all eyes turning on me, Katharina´s as well.Their eyebrows risen, their questions waiting.But I don´t owe them an explanation.It´s my life at stake.
“All right,” Leitner answers slowly.“I´ll see you in Reiteralm, then?”
“Yes,” I nod.“I´ll skip the GS in Slovenia, go home for a few days, and meet you guys in Reiteralm to prep for Hinterstoder in two weeks.Reasonable, right?”
“It does not sound like you,” he answers.“But I guess it is reasonable.”
“I’ll call Rudi,” I add.“We’ll sort it.”
“Sort what?”Leitner asks.
I don´t answer right away.
What do I need to sort out, anyway?Do I even know?
“Coach, if I knew that, I would not need a therapy session, right?”
He laughs.A dry laugh.Leitner was always the one who gave us tough love.But he appreciates it when we behave like adults.And this is me acting like an adult.Or so I think.
“Fair point, Kern,” he agrees.“Get your shit together, whatever your shit is, and I´ll see you in Reiteralm.”
I hang up and breathe out, feeling relieved for the first time today.
She´s watching me.
Her eyes intent, head leaning aside.
“One statement, only one,” I tell her, my voice flat.“The Olympic champion needs a break from the circus.No social media, no interviews, give me a break for three days.”
Ouch, it came out harsher than I intended.
She swallows, blinks, nods.
And just like that, concern leaves her eyes, replaced with something sharper.
“Sure, champ,” she says, her smile sweet but mocking.“I´ll do my job and get the media vultures off your back, enjoy your holiday.”
I turn away, jaw tight.The van hums through the darkness, its headlights spilling over the snowbanks.
Her voice still lingers in my ears, too smooth, too sharp.Sweet, but meant to sting.
I press my forehead against the cold glass, let the chill bite at the heat in my face.My reflection stares back, eyes red, cheeks blotched, and I clench my fists in my lap until the joints hurt.
Champion.Olympic champion.Hiding tears, ducking the next race, leaving my friends, and hurting my… whatever she was.
