“I’ll speak to Mark. He’ll be able to pull some strings and get you extra time on the rink—”
“Please don’t. That’s not necessary—”
“Not necessary? What’s not necessary is youstillmaking mistakes afteryearsof skating.” She scoffed and continued, “Don’t start sulking. I’m saying this to help you.”
I glanced back to Matilda, whose eyes had a glassy sheen.
Oh, fuck this.
“You need to go,” I said, and for the first time since she’d entered the room, her mother dragged her fiery eyes away from Matilda.
“She’s my daughter. I’m allowed to be here.”
“Not when you’re talking to her like that you’re not.”
“I’mcoachingher. I thought you’d be on my side, given that she messed up this evening.”
“Imessed up.Idropped Matilda, not the other way around.”
Matilda’s mother shook her head. “Why do you think she’s looking so sheepish, hmm?Shewas a beat early.Shewas too fast.” She turned to face Matilda again, disappointment lacing her every word. “Even someone who’s only been skating forweeksdidn’t mess up the timing—”
“Get. Out.” My words cut through hers as she swung her head to look at me. Her lips were parted, brow furrowed. “Get out now, or I’ll call security to have you removed.”
“But—”
“No buts. Don’t look at Matilda, don’t talk to Matilda. She’s withme.”
Something in my tone must have told her I wasn’t fucking around, because she took one final look at Matilda and me, shook her head, and stormed out. A tense silence filled the room, charged by the anger emanating from every pore of my body. How dare she speak to Matilda like that?
“I’m sorry about her. I can’t believe you saw that.” Matilda’s eyes finally met mine, and relief coursed through my veins to see they were no longer glassy. “That’s so humiliating.”
“The only person who should feel humiliated is her. Don’t let her get in your head. She’s the one in the wrong here.”
She nodded, but I couldn’t quite tell if she believed my words. “Thank you.” She spoke softly. “For sticking up forme.”
I swallowed and nodded, unable to say what I wanted to. That I wanted to fight the battles that Matilda wasn’t ready to fight. That I’d happily tell every fucker in the building where the door was if they took advantage ofher.
So, I settled on: “Let’s get you home.”
I glanced across at Matildain the passenger seat, her wrist cradled in her lap, wrapped and on ice. “Do you think we’ll make it through this week?” I asked nonchalantly, ensuring none of my internal worry seeped into my words. We couldn’t be voted out this week—I hadn’t been invited by theDirty Dancingproducers for an audition yet. I needed more time to prove I had changed.
I couldn’t shake the memory of the nurse’s voice over the phone, the BiPAP machine sounding in the background, telling me my mother wasn’t well enough to talk at that moment. Just as clear, my mother’s own words from our previous conversation kept circling back, refusing to letgo.
I’m just so happy you’re going to be acting again—doing something you love.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
What would happen if we got voted off the show? Had I done enough to prove to the producers that I’d changed? And if I hadn’t, would I be able to find another opportunity to make my mother proud?
I could always do another movie—but no movie would have asmuch meaning asDirty Dancing.My mother was dying, for fuck’s sake. Ineededto be in this film.
“We’ll be fine.” Matilda sighed. “We won’t make it into the top three, but we definitely won’t be at the bottom—despite the fall, our skate was still technically challenging and really strong otherwise.”
Matilda was right, but there was a nagging voice in my head saying our chances had been ruined.
And it was my fault.
No matter what Matilda’s mother said, I had dropped her. The responsibility lay withme.
