The adrenaline, the anticipation, this was always my favorite part of figure skating. It was also an opportunity to meet other people, to learn and learn and learn, because no matter what, even when you thought that you were at your best, there were still things you could do better.
Coach Liudmila stayed in Boston last night, and I was sure she was already inside, pacing from one side of the foyer to the other, waiting for us. She asked me to come with her last night, but I didn’t want to let my mom drive by herself.
When I woke up today, I thought the day was going to be filled with misery, but instead it was already going much better than I’d expected.
The nausea calmed down, my headache was almost gone, and it’d been such a long time since my family traveled like this.
Andrew followed us in his car, and as soon as we parked, I could see him walking toward us.
“You guys are extremely slow. I was worried she was going to miss the entire thing if you kept driving like that.”
“Son, not everyone needs to drive like Niki Lauda,” Dad said, placing a hand on Andy’s shoulder.
“Come on, guys. I need to find Coach Liudmila, but I’ll see you inside. Okay?”
“Go, go, go.” Mom handed over my suitcase. “Good luck, darling.” She hugged me and kissed both of my cheeks, handing me over to my dad.
He did the same, followed by Andy, who squeezed the life out of me.
“That hurts.” I laughed.
“I’m proud of you, you know? So, so fucking proud.”
“I know.” I nodded and looked up at him as he let me go. “I’ll see you inside, okay?”
“Yep.”
This day was going much better than I expected. Now if only I could manage to find Coach Liudmila, it would be brilliant.
* * *
A couple of hours later,three energy drinks for Andy, a little bit of food for me, and a whole lot of nerves, I was warming up on the side, waiting for the current routine to finish so that I could go toward the rink.
I had hoped my headache would go down after some time, but I was so terribly wrong. Not only did it not go down, it hit back with a vengeance. Every single step felt as if someone was shaking my whole brain. My stomach clenched and unclenched, and I worried that what little food I had managed to consume today would start coming out.
I just prayed that it wouldn’t happen during my routine.
I bent down, stretching my back, trying to reach my toes, when a sudden bout of dizziness hit me like a freight train, making me bend down.
Fuck. This couldn’t be happening now.
I closed my eyes and started inhaling through my nose and exhaling through my mouth, but all I could hear, all I could feel, was the pounding of my heart in my ears. I tried pushing myself up, but every time I tried, my body felt as if it was going to collapse on the floor.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“And the next contestant, ladies and gentlemen, is the one that basically grew up on this ice.” Jesus, it was my turn already. “One of the fan favorites, please welcome, Sophie Anderson!”
The crowd roared in unison, chanting my name, yet I couldn’t lift my head.
“Sophie!” Coach Liudmila’s voice came to me, and with the strength I didn’t know I possessed, I managed to lift my head. “What are you doing?”
“Warming up,” I answered. But even to myself, my voice sounded weak. God, I trained so hard. I couldn’t back down now.
“Well, come on then.” She came closer and pulled me up. My stomach recoiled, and I bit down on my lip, trying to keep in the breakfast I’d eaten. “They already called out your name.”
A couple of years ago, I caught the flu a week before the competitions, and the night before I spent puking my guts out. Did that stop me from competing the next day? Absolutely not. It turned out that I had pneumonia all along.
But this now… This felt ten times worse than what I felt back then.
