Chapter 18: After Midnight
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Alone at last.
Gina gratefully leaned against the balcony railing, trying to regain the sense of peace she had felt when she was on the ice. She had never been able to instantly switch from the zone of performing back into the 'real world,' and tonight, there hadn't even been time to sit and think. Immediately after the show ended, she, her father, and Jean had rushed home so that she could clean up and change. A long hot shower might have relaxed her, but, mindful of the time constraint, Gina had quickly scrubbed the sweat and make-up off her body and then hopped out again. With more than a slight feeling of panic, it occurred to her that she'd been so wrapped up in her pre-performance jitters that she had neglected to pre-select an outfit nice enough to wear to the reception at Le Mont. Of course, nearly everything remotely suitable had been wrinkled or covered in cat fur--she'd finally, out of desperation, decided on a three-year-old black one-piece skort-dress. And then, Emma had thought that the process of rolling up and putting on pantyhose signified a new game called "snag."
After that, as soon as she, her father, and Jean had walked through the door of the elegant restaurant, she'd been engulfed in the whirlwind that was Susan Ramsay. As much as Gina would have liked to catch up, she realized that she also just wanted a little time--just five minutes to sit quietly by herself and sift through everything. But Susan went on and on and on... Oh. My. God. What do you call that spin you did? You must show me how to do it. Or at least tell me how. And when did you learn a reverse walley? Oh. My. God, I am so glad to see you again, Gina, I always wondered what happened to you. And here you are, in Pittsburgh. Are you part of the coaching staff?
Coaching. Not competing. Coaching.
The unintentional blow had caught her off guard. She excused herself and headed for what she hoped were the restrooms. All she needed was ten--maybe twenty-- minutes to gather the tiny pieces of emotions and zip them back into her soul. But she had not even made it halfway across the dining room before she literally collided with Cody. 'Whoa, where you going so quickly?" he asked, carefully steadying her. She was glad she had chosen to wear flat shoes--otherwise she might have lost her balance completely.
"The buffet," she said quickly, not really wanting to explain that she just wanted to be by herself for a couple of minutes. "I just realized how hungry I am." With a start came the realization that it was true--she hadn't eaten since lunch, and only picked over her food then.
"Well, then scoot on over there--we can't have our future world teammate starving to death before she even gets to regionals."
Future world teammate? She hadn't skated that well. She was going to ask him to qualify that comment but Cody was already making his way toward Jocelyn. Gina grinned to herself--they looked like magnets zooming across a polished table. Of course between Jocelyn's creative zipper placement and Cody's giant belt buckle, perhaps they were a bit magnetized. And when Cody bent to kiss Jocelyn, Gina was sure of it. Good for him--although where he would find the time for a relationship was a mystery to her. Perhaps it was just making time. With that thought in mind, she had headed for the buffet.
The line of trays, enthroned on a red velvet tablecloth, ran the length of the restaurant, beginning with cheese, crackers, vegetables, and dip; that was followed by a spinach salad and a Caesar salad--at least all those foods were easily identifiable to Gina. She took some spinach salad. After that, she resorted to reading the little embossed cards underneath the hot trays.
Water chestnuts with bacon? Yes.
Crab cakes? Yes.
Escargot in filo pastry and brandy sauce? Definitely not!
The entrŽe was Chicken Portabello, which looked delicious, so she decided to splurge on her diet and take a serving of that as well. Dessert appeared to be an assortment of mini-pastries and cheesecake, plus a mixture of cut strawberries, kiwi, pineapple, and raspberries accompanied by chocolate dipping sauce. Gina quickly took some of the fruit, then hurried out to the balcony to avoid the temptation of chocolate.
It seemed more temperate than it had been all week-probably in the sixties-and a cool breeze was stirring over the three rivers. It was peaceful-Gina looked at the shining waters below, bathed in the city lights of downtown Pittsburgh. She could almost imagine a small twig or leaf that perhaps had fallen into the Allegheny river far to the north and floated down to this point, where it would be joined with other leaves which had fallen into the Monogahela river. Then, borne away on the swift currents, the leaves from both rivers would be swept into the Ohio river and carried southwest, past Ohio, into Kentucky, and eventually get caught up in the vast Mississippi River. Poor leaf... did it have a choice when it first left it's home in the Allegheny Mountains? Did it know that if it didn't disintegrate in the rapids, it would eventually find itself in the Gulf of Mexico? Is that where the leaf wanted to go? Or had it wanted to stay up in the mountains, where it was quiet and safe?
Though she laughed at her own angst-ridden poetic conceit, she still wondered if she had fallen into a current that she could not control. Being back on the ice again-those five minutes when she had been alone with the music, and yet not alone because the audience was there as well, and they were all sharing in something that Gina didn't even have a name for-that part had been fun. No, not "fun," she corrected herself, it had felt right. If ice skating was just that; if it was just her, the ice, and the crowd, then she wanted to ride those rapids as far as they could take her. But the feelings of dread that dogged every pre-performance hour, the whispers behind her back, and the knowledge that even if a program went well, it might never be good enough to take her where she wanted to go.
So today was a great performance. It was like beginner's luck all over again. What happens next time?
It was starting already, in fact. With the clarity of two hours distance from the roar of the crowds, she was remembering what had gone wrong with the program. The bobble on the landing of the triple flip, causing her to slip from the edge to the toepick and making a great scraping noise across the ice. The sit spin might have traveled a bit... the double axel, which had felt tilted in the air... the fact that neither program was as long as an ISU long program, yet she had been gasping for air by the end of them. I'm out of condition.
Not overweight, she decided, looking at her plate, but under-muscled. It would be nice, she thought, as she took a bite of salad, if she could blame her less than stellar performance on excess poundage. Then all she would need to do was diet her way to the Olympics. Perhaps being alone with my thoughts wasn't such a good idea. Now, she couldn't even muster enough objectivity to decide if she had performed well or not. Jonathan said they would be taping tonight's show. I could always ask to look at that.
Except, she still didn't feel comfortable with him--although after today, she could say that their relationship was a little better. He had seemed to know exactly what to say; how to calm her down before the exhibition. And that had been quite a relief. She smiled when she thought of the funny story he had told about his favorite black shirt. It was actually a quirky skater-coach kind of thing to do--but it helped.
She took one last gulp of fresh (fresh for Pittsburgh, anyway) air and decided that as much as she wanted to stay and lurk on the balcony, she'd better return to the party. Her father and Jean knew very few people; plus, she wanted to get another chance to talk to Cyndie. She turned to go inside just as the doors slid open and Etienne stepped outside.
All thoughts of joining her father or Cyndie fled.
All thoughts in general fled.
And then her nerve fled as well. "Oh excuse me, I was just going back inside." She moved to get past him.
He smiled at her. "Gina. Pretty Gina. I was looking for you." The moonlight turned his white-blond hair to silver, as he stood there just smiling at her. He set his plate of food on the edge of the balcony railing and then picked up both of her hands in his and brought them to his lips. Not a kiss exactly, for he held them there too long for the standard salute. "Your skating, it was magnificent."
Magnificent. The perfect thing to hear when she wasn't even sure that she had skated well or not. "Thank-you," she managed to say. "I enjoyed your programs as well." Enjoyed. Come on Gina, this man is a two-time Olympic Gold Medalist. Enjoyed sounds like how you should describe a sit-com. "You really know how to set fire to the audience." Ok that was better.
He dropped her hands and laughed suddenly. "Oh, such a thing you say. I got a picture in my head of me with a flame thrower, putting the audience on fire." He bounded across the terrace and shouted to her. "Alas! Etienne LeClerc, fire bringer."
Gina couldn't help but laugh-his delight was infectious. "Then I take it you are happy with how you skated."
"But, of course, I am happy. I am always happy. This is what they say about Etienne LeClerc. They say I look happy to be on the ice. And why not? Anything else is a waste of time." There was a note of cynicism in his voice, but when she looked at him curiously, he smiled at her. Then he did a little soft-shoe routine, spun himself back to Gina, took her hand, and twirled her around the balcony until she was dizzy with laughter and his nearness. "There. You see. You laughed. I saw you before, looking so serious. This is so much for the better." He let go of her and retrieved his plate of food. "And I am especially happy tonight, for I have finally found a place that makes the escargot." He grinned and popped one of the little snails into his mouth.
Involuntarily she wrinkled her nose at the idea of making a meal from what was basically a garden slug. He must have noticed the look on her face, for he said, "Ah no, Pretty Gina, you must try the escargot. The chef who can make the escargot is as much of an artist with food as you are on skates."
He picked one off his plate and before Gina could think about it, he'd placed it in her mouth. Her lips tingled where his fingers touched--or maybe it was just the sting of the brandy that coated the escargot. Left with the choice of eating the thing or being so impolite as to spit it out, Gina started chewing...and chewing...and chewing.
It's a slug! Don't think about it. But it tastes like a slug. Don't think about it. I've already thrown up once today. Don't think about that either. Don't think, just swallow it.
Gina gulped and the dratted thing clunked into her stomach. Etienne gave her another brilliant smile.
"Is good, no? Do you want another?" He reached for his plate.
"No! Er, I mean, I don't want to take all your food. I can get some at the buffet," Gina said quickly.
"But, Pretty Gina, it is fun to feed you from my plate."
At that very moment, Gina would have been willing to eat a gallon of snails if he hand fed them to her, but then the doors opened behind them letting in the dull roar of the reception. Jean stepped onto the balcony and looked around. "Oh there you are, Gina." She looked curiously at Etienne, so Gina quickly performed the introductions. "Mr. LeClerc, you were absolutely brilliant."
Absolutely brilliant. That's one I should have used.
Etienne took Jean's hands and kissed them as he had Gina's. "I am pleased to meet you, Madame Logan--but please, I am Etienne to you." He turned to both of them. "And, now, I return to the hallway and begin charming the skating officials-as you should be doing too, Pretty Gina." He gave a little bow to both of them and slipped inside.
"It is lovely out here," Jean said, "but perhaps Etienne is correct. You really ought to be doing some discreet mingling."
"I know. I just wanted a little space," Gina said.
Jean slung her arm around Gina's back. "It was thrilling to see you skate like that."
"Not 'absolutely brilliant'?"
"That too, but in a different way. Granted, I haven't the slightest idea what your feet were doing, but you made it look so easy. And that second song you did. I got shivers when I watched you. Until tonight, I had no idea how good you were."
That was nice to hear, although Gina acknowledged that Jean wouldn't have noticed anything was wrong unless Gina had splatted-something she had managed to avoid doing. "Well, good is a matter of perspective, but thank you."
"Anyway, as much as I'd like to bask in the glow of your performance," Jean said, "I think your father and I are going to head home. This really isn't our-how do you say it?-our scene. You planned to get a ride home with Cody or Cyndie, didn't you?"
Gina couldn't remember one way or another, but she doubted there would be any problem getting a ride. "Yes. Go home to your rocking chairs," she joked, earning herself a friendly tweak on the ear in response.
After seeing her father and Jean off, Gina returned to the dining room and tried to find some kind of friendly face. She saw people she knew but not well enough to latch onto while she 'made the rounds.' Already she regretted not going home with her father and Jean. Cody was nowhere to be seen, nor was Jocelyn. Oh good, Cyndie and Megan were still at that table.
"Gina." One word was enough to know the voice of her coach. It was a quiet half question-half command and Gina quickly turned around to see him standing in a small group of people, none of whom she knew (although she recognized Terrence Stafford by sight). She took Jonathan's proffered arm and allowed herself to be drawn into the circle. "Gina, I'd like you to meet Terrance Stafford, who is now the head of the Atlanta Figure Skating Club; Ray Kalina, who works for Candid Productions; Eugene Haugen, President of the USFSA, and Debra Schwanz, of Belkin Sports."
Her mind working quickly, Gina politely shook hands. This had to be the most powerful group of people in the room. The USFSA and Candid Productions were collaborating on a series of Pro-Am Eligible competitions in the upcoming fall. One of them was going to be in Atlanta, and Gina suspected that these people were definitely part of the organizing committee. Thanks for warning me about this one, coach.
Though none of them were inclined to discuss the competition at this moment, they weren't above grilling Gina about her recent training.
"This was pretty impressive for being off ice for seven years Miss Logan," Eugene said. Gina vaguely remembered he had been a judge at that fateful Skate Canada in 1992.
"Actually, I wasn't off ice for much more than a year," Gina answered easily. "I moved to England with my father, but kept up my training at a rink near London."
"The facility out in Pinner?" Terrence Stafford asked. "It's a decent rink, but they primarily train ice dancers."
"Yes, but they have some ice available for singles. And I trained ice dance as well." She looked at her coach out of the corner of her eye. So far so good, it seemed.
Yes, he was nodding. "It shows in her footwork too," he said. "Perhaps it should be a new rule brought up to the next ISU congress. All singles skaters must spend at least two years doing exclusively Ice Dance. Think of the incredible edging we'd see." Gina noticed his knuckles were white around the handle of his cane. Was he in pain? Or did he hate the politicking as much as she did?
"Bring back figures, and you'll see real edging, again," Eugene said at the same time as Ray said, "Oh ye Gods, don't mention the ISU. I have a bad feeling we're going to be jerked around all season. The worst thing to ever happen to figure skating was when they elected a speedskater to be the head of the ISU. Figure Skating needs it's own separate organizing body!"
And then the conversation turned into a litany of complaints about the head of the International Skating Union. Gina was aware that the ISU governed both figure and speed skating, and at the moment the head of that organization was from the speed skating world. But she hadn't heard of any problems with the man. But then she didn't have to deal with him. All she had to do was skate.
Suddenly recalling that she needed to find either Cody or Cyndie to confirm a ride home, she excused herself and went to look for one of them. Cody had been missing for quite a while, she realized. Likely, he and Jocelyn had left in her car. Cyndie seemed to have disappeared as well--neither she nor Megan were anywhere to be seen. Amanda Barrett, when asked, seemed to recall them heading in the direction of the ladies' room.
Megan and Cyndie were not in the bathroom, but Donna, resplendent in an ice blue evening gown that Gina could never carry off, was in front of the sink freshening her make-up. She turned at Gina's intrusion. "Hello."
Gina stopped short, inexplicably feeling like she'd intruded. "Hello. I was just looking for Cyndie Neill or Megan." Obviously, they weren't in here, but maybe Donna had seen them.
Looking thoughtful, Donna said, "I haven't seen them in a long time. Tonight was such a schmooze fest that I'm not sure if I had a real conversation with any of my friends at all." She gave Gina a conspirital look. "Actually, I was trying to charm any information about the Grand Prix selections out of Eugene. I really, really, want to go to Skate America, Skate Canada, and Lalique." She turned back to the mirror and carefully spread some dark gray eyeshadow across the lids. "You know how it is. If you don't get good internationals in the fall, you're totally screwed at Worlds."
"Yeah, or if you blow the fall internationals, then it's even worse," Gina said, slipping instantly into skater-skater dish.
"You are so lucky to never have to go through that again," Donna said. "And you were so good tonight. You could easily get a part in Grease on Ice--I could totally see you as Rizzo, or maybe even Sandy if you wore a blonde wig."
Grease on Ice? Is that all that's left for me?
Gina felt her smile waver for a moment. "That would be fun, wouldn't it? Anyway, I'd better go look for my ride. Nice talking to you."
"Sure thing. We'll have to chat sometime at the rink."
Grease on Ice. Gina didn't even like the show. She sighed, and headed back into the dining room. The reception was obviously on the wane. Only a few stalwart politicians were left at tables. She looked at the room in confusion for a moment until a pair of hands came over in front of her eyes.
"Hello again, Pretty Gina," Etienne's voice sang out.
She spun around and smiled. His cheerfulness was infectious. "Hello again. Have you seen Cyndie or Megan?"
"I think that they have gone. Are you needing a ride?" He stepped out into the corridor between the bathrooms and the main dining room and motioned Gina to follow him.
Me? Him? Same car? She had no idea what she would say to him during the ride home. Guess we'll find out, though. "Actually I do --"
The ladies' room door opened and Donna sauntered out, her hair looking creatively mussed. How does she do that? Gina wondered, knowing that her own hair had multiple personalities, none of them benign.
"Well, Gina, hello again," she said, and then put her arms around Etienne's waist. "I thought you were going to bring the car around."
Etienne looked momentarily surprised. "Yes, I am going. But Donna, Gina has been left behind--shall we take her with us?"
The thought of being in a car with Etienne and Donna was suddenly too oppressive to bear. "I was just saying that actually I do have a ride. He's just bringing the car around."
"Well, then you can come out to the parking lot with us," Donna said.
Well, that will teach you to tell white lies.
So Gina walked into the parking lot, knowing full well that a car was not going to be waiting for her. Laughing, she assured Donna and Etienne that her friend had parked on the far side of the lot, there was no need to wait with her. She waved them on, trying not to notice as they kissed before Etienne handed Donna into the car.
Hands in her pockets, she turned back to Le Mont, hoping that Jean wouldn't mind too much when Gina called her back out for a ride. But all of a sudden, she felt the pain of depression spiral to the pit of her stomach. She'd been forgotten. Not just tonight by Cyndie who had driven off without her, but in the seven years since she'd left skating, the world of ice had gone on without her. Why she was even upset about it, she didn't know. Of course things would change. Of course there would have been new champions like Donna to step into the spotlight that Gina had fallen out of. It was ironic, because Gina had wanted to be forgotten. She had wanted to sever the ties between herself and skating.
What hubris to hope that all she would have to do was skate once again and they would welcome her back! If she hadn't been so depressed, she would have laughed. To think that one skate would magically make everything all right. Only in fairy tales did something like that happen. Sure, people had applauded, sure they'd seemed to like her. But they applauded everyone universally. She was just a face in the crowd. Slightly better than the little kids in the group numbers, but not a true elite athlete like Donna or Etienne. They thought she was destined for Grease on Ice.
She leaned against the side of the building, choking back the sobs that had threatened to take possession of her body. She had known this was going to happen--why hadn't she been better prepared? Why had she let herself hope that she could find a life as a skater again?
The only answer to her questions was the crunch of gravel under tires. Etienne and Donna had sure taken their time pulling out of the darkened lot. Then a familiar dark Mercedes rolled to a halt in front of her, and once again, a tinted window whirred down into the recesses of the door. And once again, she heard the words, "Get in."
Six weeks ago, Jonathan Griffin had said the same words to her. Six weeks ago, Gina had refused to get into the car, making him have to follow her home to assure her safety.
But that was six weeks ago.
This time Gina got in.
Text Copyright © 1999-2000 Karen Frank
