The feeling of flying, of being completely free.
The moment when there was nothing else in the world but the music and the ice.
As I came down from the triple axel, I landed exactly as I’d hoped, swinging my arms out and basking in the moment as the audience rose to their feet, prepared to break into applause.
A slight chill shifted through me as the entire world drifted into an opaque blur, leaving only the sound of my breath, the thrum of my heart. With the gothic passage of music, I was driven into a moment where passion held no bounds, where the very essence of life was within my grasp.
If only for a few incredible minutes.
I moved from one side of the ice to the other, taking a flying leap into the air, careful to position my hands just so.
As soon as I landed, a tiny thrill tore through me. My performance had been clean, much better than the week before. Well, with the exception of a couple of bobbles when I landed after the triple lutz. Sighing, I snapped my hands onto my hips while placing the back edge of one blade in front of the other.
I took several shallow breaths to try to fill my lungs, concentrating on the sound the skates made while gliding across the ice. There was no audience ready to erupt in appreciation, no judges in the shadows preparing to provide a score. And no hopeful wishing for a win in the competition.
There was nothing but an empty sensation that happened every time I finished skating, feeling the loss even after all these years.
My breathing was heavier than before, my bones aching from fatigue. But the exhaustion I’d experience for the rest of the night and into the morning was well worth the electric rush of freedom. In fact, I wasn’t ready to leave the ice. I had another fifteen minutes or so allotted to me and I planned on covering every inch of ice before leaving the premises.
A whirring sound caught my attention. As soon as I skated in a full circle, no melodic chords containing a deep primal bass could hide my disgusted groan. I’d thought the Zamboni technician had already finished. I was very careful to ensure I didn’t interfere with his time on the ice because the last thing I wanted was to have any complaints made to senior management about my use of the ice.
I watched him work for a few seconds. It appeared he was staying on his end of the rink. Maybe I could get in a few more minutes before needing to leave. A skater and a huge, glorified ice scraper going at the same time wasn’t in the skater’s best interest.
Being flattened wasn’t on my bucket list today.
Trying to ignore it even though the behemoth drowned out the music, I could still hear the sultry chords in my mind as I threw my arms out, allowing the incredible breeze to tickle my skin as I crossed from one side of the rink to the other.
The whir of the engine was getting closer. When I spun around the outside, I threw my head over my shoulder. Jesus Christ. Was the guy heading straight for me? I moved in a serpentine pattern, waiting for him to pass.
But he didn’t.
Instead, he slowed down to the point he was barely moving and he was way too close. There was no doubt he could see me. What did he think he was doing? Trying to create pancake batter for the afternoon?
Ugh.
I waved my arms to try to garner his attention.
There was no response other than he was inching even closer.
The music suddenly stopped mid chorus. Fantastic. Maybe this was my cue to leave the building. What was I saying? I wasn’t the one who’d ignored the rules. The Zamboni driver wasn’t supposed to be on the ice.
Now I was furious. The guy was either stupid or blind. So I skated closer, refusing to be afraid of the massive piece of equipment. The driver suddenly stopped, leaving the engine idling.
So did I.
“What in the hell is your problem? I was skating. This is my time.” I started to say I’d paid for use of the rink, but that would be a lie.
He didn’t move. The big lug of a man sat hiding underneath a big, puffy parka, including a hood that covered half his face. I glared at him, shifting a few inches from one side to the next on the skates.
The bastard still wasn’t moving.
There was nothing worse than a strict silence and in the icy environment, nothing echoed, the only sound the rumble of the engine. My entire body was tense as fury continued building, pushing me into a place I didn’t want to be. Hateful. Vengeful.
Fine. I’d just fucking leave.
“You win, fucker. Until next time.”
Taking a wide berth, I trudged forward toward the exit, disgusted I’d allowed whoever it was to win. That wasn’t like me. Maybe I was just exhausted from the physical fight earlier in the day. Or maybe the despondency I’d experienced for years had returned in full force.
