Chapter Text
Your face lights up the sky in the highway
There’s that damned billboard again. I hate the fact that I have to pass by the one billboard in this city that they put up for her Nivea ad campaign on the very same route that I have to go through to get home from Gadbois. I hate the fact that no matter how hard I try, I could not even for one day be free of thinking about her or dreaming about her.
I take a couple of deep breaths to slow my heart. I think back to the day that it finally dawned on me that I had been so blind for so many years to what I should have accepted a long time ago. That there’s only one person that I’ve ever wanted. Her.
I finally get home to my apartment. Bone tired after a day of training, I grab myself a bottle of water and sort through my mail. Fan letters from all over Canada, bills that I have to remember to pay, invitations to various social functions.
I understand the pressures that come with being Canada’s top male figure skater. I’ve been basically it for the last eight years. Well, that’s not entirely true. Patrick Chan – Chiddy – certainly would have something to say about that. I’ve been one of it for the last eight years, Chiddy being the other one. To be fair, I do have the Olympic gold medal. But Chiddy has wrapped up four World titles against my three.
In my twenty-four years on this earth, I don’t think I’ve ever been as weary as I am now. And this includes that period in 2010 post-Vancouver where it seemed like there was nowhere in Canada I could go without being recognized, and there was nobody in Canada I could come across that didn’t want anything from me. No, I am definitely more tired now.
Maybe it’s my age. At twenty-four, I've been in this business for fourteen years now. Maybe it’s the stress that comes with training for the next quad and the added pressure of defending my gold medal. Maybe it’s that the post-Vancouver popularity doesn’t seem to want to wane. Maybe it’s that in the last four years or so I’ve been haunted by her.
I sigh and sit down on my couch and turn on the tv. And I don’t know what kind of sick me fate has decided to play on me but there she is on tv – Canada’s ice princess. The Olympic Gold Medalist. Three-time world champion. The most beautiful and elegant female figure skater of all time. The darling of every Canadian teenage girl. The dream that every Canadian mother hopes their kid would be one day. The fantasy for probably majority of the Canadian male and some of Canada’s female population.
I groan in frustration until I hear that there’s been some kind of bust up between her and her coach. It’s not really a surprise. There had been a lot of tension between them over the years. I just had no idea that it had become so serious.
I turn off the tv. I consider messaging her but the memory of our last conversation gives me pause. I don’t know that she’d want to hear from me right now. After what I now call The Great May 2012 Disaster, I don’t know why she would want to speak with me. That said, I can’t help but also think that even before life got complicated, she was my friend. If you’d asked her before May, she might have even said I was her best friend. Well that was before I messed it all up.
“Fuck it”, I whisper to the air. I pick up my phone and type out a quick message.
I know I messed up. I know you might now want to hear from me right now. But I am here. Anytime. I’ll always be here for you.
I see three dots on top of my screen and hold my breath. Blink blink blink. Stop. She never answers back.
Someday you’ll share your world with me, someday
“Have you heard the news?”
I looked up from my phone as Chiddy sat down beside me on the boards. I had just finished going through my short program in training and was answering emails when Chiddy, my arch rival and my best decided to disturb me with news that apparently, could not wait.
“Tessa Virtue had a huge bust up with Marina. She’s finally leaving Canton.”, he says.
Chiddy is one of the few people who actually knows what had gone down between me and Tessa. Well, knows most but not all of it. I couldn’t help the fact that I have crazy expressive eyebrows. And I know for sure Chiddy saw my first reaction before I could successfully bury my initial reaction with a practiced nonchalance.
“It was bound to happen sooner rather than later. They’d not really been on good terms for over a year now.”, I replied, hopefully smoothly.
I know I’m not fooling him though. He’d known me for far too long. And despite the fact that we’re each other’s main rival, for some reason, we had always been great friends. Friends enough to be each other’s sounding board whenever we ran into any kind of trouble, whether it’s related to skating or our personal lives. Friends enough that even though we share the same coach, Patrice Lauzon, it never got awkward or complicated. Friends enough that he was the one who dragged me home every single night from the pub and listened to me rant and rave about my utter stupidity the week after the great disaster.
“Well, you didn’t hear it from me. But I ‘accidentally’ passed by Marie France’s office this morning, well before anyone got here.”, he says. Marie France, is Patrice’s wife. Together they share many of Canada’s men’s and women’s national skating titles. They also run this school together as co-coaches and choreographers.
“Anyway,” he continues, “She was on the phone with someone. And I think I may have heard hear say, and I quote, ‘Of course you’re welcome to come here, Tessa. I would love to coach you.’”
This time, I know my face is a dead giveaway. Doesn’t matter though. I don’t care. All that matters is that she’s coming here. Shit.