Page 112 of Chasing Gold, Catching Her

“Champion attitude.”

Hermann wanted to encourage Alisa somehow, but nothing he could think of seemed to land. Alisa just took her still-warm coffee out of her bag and began to drink it in small sips, staring straight ahead at the road, unfocused, as if she wasn’t even really seeing it. They were already approaching the arena, thankfully no traffic jams this morning, oddly enough, like the city had decided to behave for once.

They split up right in the parking lot. Hermann went off toward a small place near the arena to grab breakfast and clear his head with a walk, and Alisa headed straight to the locker room, because time was already pressing in on her, and today there was a short program run-through and then the free skate—everything at once.

And Alisa felt terrible in every possible way.

Even during warm-up, she already understood that today was going to be hell. Her knees hurt mercilessly, despite the gel she had rubbed into them earlier, it didn’t seem to do anything at all, and the painkillers she had taken before going out barely dulled the edge. She skated through both programs with clenched teeth, dragging herself through each element, half on technique, half on stubbornness.

The mood stayed bad the entire day and when Arkadiy finally said, “Well… it’s okay. But could’ve been better though,” she almost laughed from the absurdity of it.

No one noticed. No one saw how much pain she was hiding, how every movement came at a cost. She skated at maximum tension, like a wire pulled too tight, ready to snap.

And when she got home, she did snap.

Alisa didn’t even make it past the hallway. She dropped her bag somewhere near the door, didn’t take off her jacket, didn’t take off her shoes properly, she just collapsed onto the floor and curled up, pressing into herself, letting out broken sounds as everything finally crashed down on her at once.

For a second she thought about quitting.

About pulling out of the qualifiers. About letting the Olympics go. But she had come too far. Too many years, too many injuries, too many sacrifices. To quit now would mean it was all for nothing.

Everyone skated through pain. Everyone.

Was I weaker?

No.

I couldn’t be.

She had to keep going, even like this.

The vibration of her phone dragged her out of the spiral. She hadn’t even heard it at first.

“What the…?” she muttered hoarsely, pushing herself up and reaching blindly into her bag. “Where the hell did I throw it…”

She hissed under her breath, digging through everything—clothes, skates, tape, random things—until finally her fingers closed around it.

Still vibrating.

Tora.

Is there connection now?! Oh my God…

Alisa sniffed, quickly wiping at her face, and answered the FaceTime call.

“Hey… babe, you—”

Tora’s smile disappeared the second she saw her, replaced instantly with worry.

“What’s wrong, babe?”

“Why are you sitting in the doorway?”

“Ah… well…” Alisa glanced around, suddenly aware of how she must look, and pushed herself up, shrugging her jacket off and letting it fall right there on the floor.

“Well, yeah… it’s just… a small break for a nervous breakdown, you know. Everything’s just… happening, like all at once.” She pressed her lips together, trying to sound lighter than she felt.

She pulled her skates out of the bag and left them near the door to dry, then walked into the kitchen, phone still in hand. Outside, it was already dark, snow mixed with rain, that disgusting in-between weather that promised slush by morning.