I know that feeling.
I know exactly what it feels like to be the one on the ice, to be the one incrementally getting better, to chase a technique through weeks of failed attempts until the morning it suddenly works. Your body doing something it couldn’t do yesterday.
I spent years chasing that feeling. Living off it.
And there are a few mornings where standing at the boards watching someone else get better feels like pressing your hand against a window.
Making a difference, yes. But not quite close enough.
“Elida?” One of the girls, pausing at the blue line. “Are we starting?”
Twelve faces, waiting, skates on and ready.
“Yes,” I say. “Sorry. From the top.”
I push off onto the ice and find my position. The session starts and I pour everything into it - corrections, demonstrations, and words of encouragement. But afterward, walking home in the cold, I let myself think it properly for the first time.
I miss it.
I miss it even more when it comes to the guy’s team skating session. I wish I could escape into my own routines and not think about other people. Especially him.
The team files in loudly but I keep my eyes on my notes.
Then he’s there.
I know without even looking. That’s the problem - I’ve developed some kind of involuntary awareness of exactly whereMateo Russo is in any given space and it hasn’t switched off just because I need it to.
“Alright,” I say to the group, to anyone except him. “Edge progressions. Full rink. Both directions. You know the drill.”
They push off.
I move through the session the way I always do. I know I’m good at this, and the professionalism holds because it has to.
I get to Chen. His outside edge is off. I tell him so and he fixes it immediately and nods his thanks. His expression is careful. He’s noticing more than he should.
I move on, going to other players.
When it gets to Russo, I call out corrections instead of going over. I find reasons to move in the other direction because the alternative is standing close to him and I can’t. I can’t right now.
Calloway runs the second half of the session, and I stand at the boards with my notebook and watch.
Russo is skating well - visibly better than he was when I first arrived. I did that.
Whatever else is complicated between us, that’s not complicated.
Calloway calls time.
The team disperses toward the gate and I gather my things. I’m already moving before the last of them have stepped off. I’m through the gate and into the corridor before anyone can catch up.
I walk fast.
My hand is shaking when I push through the door to the outside.
MATEO
Miles Chen makes pasta.
He doesn’t ask if I want to come over, just texts7pmand a pasta emoji, which is Chen’s version ofI’ve been watching you fall apart for days and we’re going to talk about it whether you like it or not.
