Ava
mirror, Ava basked in the delicate golden glow upon her skin and the halos of light in her eyes. She heard the last of the birds’ morning song and watched sunshine slip into her room through the cracks in the drawn curtains, promising a beautiful summer morning.
But, more than anything, she wasn’t accustomed to waking up so late.
She read the digital alarm clock on the elegant wooden end table beside her bed between brushes through her towel-dried hair. Eight-twenty-five A.M.
Ava’s eyes sought her reflection and admired the shine of her hair, reminding her of a Hollywood starlet. She let strands of dark chestnut hang loose around her face and neck, released from the confines of a bun. She liked her hair down, but it often interfered with her focus during training, and she used to spend so much of her time too occupied to try new hairstyles.
“Today is the start of something new,” she promised herself and set the brush on the counter, pleased with how she looked. Ava pulled out a small tube of chapstick from the ceramic bowl on the vanity and applied some to her lips. The taste of mint sizzled against her mouth, but Ava loved the cool rush.
She checked her phone, but no new notifications required her attention. Much to her surprise, the last text message she received from her parents was over a day ago, delivered when she and Coach Korin touched down at Gerald Ford International Airport before the several-hour drive to his home.
Any other time, she would’ve had a full schedule detailing her day from four-thirty A.M. to ten P.M. with not a minute to spare. Her mother was convinced Ava would miss the structure and rigidity of her routine. The flutters of excitement in Ava's stomach said otherwise.
She knew her mother wanted her to be the best skater in the world, but Ava desired the opportunity to try something new. She earned a chance to be a little more independent and spend the upcoming skating season away from home.
So, she didn't miss the routine or the early hours yet . . . and hoped that she wouldn't.
Ava put the thought out of her mind. She switched off the vanity lights and headed for the door. Korin promised her a room all to herself, and he upheld that promise, converting the guest bedroom of his family's home into a haven for an almost-nineteen-year-old. He painted the walls in her favorite color—mauve—and imported some of her furniture from her parents’ home in upstate New York, familiarizing her room.
Dressed in her favorite nightgown, Ava bounded down the stairs to the kitchen with unusual energy and excitement. She blamed a full night of sleep for the good feeling in the air. The aroma of breakfast wafted out from the kitchen as Ava entered the dining room. At the table, Korin looked ready to cave when his daughter, Izumi, spat out a bite of yogurt all over his shirt and offered the sweetest evil grin known to mankind. He slumped back in his chair and set the bowl down, cleaning off his shirt.
Korin Ohashi might’ve been out of the figure skating game for over twenty years, but Ava swore her coach never looked a day over thirty-five. His dark, shaggy hair had yet to lose its rich color to salt and pepper streaks, and beyond his smile lines, he looked in his prime. A former men's solo skater for Japan, Korin brought the expertise of several world titles, a few Olympic medals, and a reputation as one of the best male skaters in the last few decades. But to Ava, he was a loving husband and father, a foodie unlike anyone she'd ever known, and the best coach ever.
"Alright, what did Dada teach you about spitting?" Korin sighed, never raising his voice to reprimand Izumi. She was only four and easily emotional.
“Bad!” Izumi kicked her legs under her highchair. “But I don’t like it.”
“But that doesn’t mean you get to spit. You can’t eat grapes every day for breakfast.”
“No! Grapes!”
“It looks like you have your hands full. Need any help?” Ava interjected while she pulled out her chair, borrowing Korin’s attention. Izumi made grabby hands at her. Korin offered a weak sigh, betraying any illusion of anger at his daughter’s picky eating habits.
He patted Ava's hand when she slid into her seat directly across from him, "Thank you, but I will have Izumi try a few bites of this yogurt before I give up entirely."
"It might be the flavor. Kids are funny like that," said Ava. She glanced over when a pan clatter in the kitchen interrupted the otherwise peaceful breakfast. She smiled when Chase poked his head out of the kitchen, greeted by the sight of his startlingly copper hair and beard.
He whistled, “Breakfast for the adults is ready.”
Ava watched him come from the kitchen with a tray of assorted food like a miniature buffet in his large arms, setting breakfast down on the table. He had two plates loaded with eggs, bacon, yogurt, and fruit in front of him and Korin. Then, he set a plate with peanut butter and banana toast, fruit and yogurt, and two small pieces of bacon in front of Ava.
Ava stared at her plate of food and listened to Korin’s pleased humming at the sight of breakfast. She tried to muster the same feelings, but every attempt fell short when a rush of nerves undercut her. The taste of guilt soured her mouth with blistering remorse.
“This looks delicious, thank you.” Korin pulled Chase in by the collar of his shirt, pressing a chaste kiss to his husband’s cheek while Izumi giggled. Ava watched the loving smile and reciprocated touch with a growing unfamiliarity. Her parents weren't remotely affectionate in public, and she assumed the same about their private time. Her parents never held hands in front of her, much less shared kisses at the breakfast table.
But she chalked that up to Chase Frasier, former Olympic ski jumper and her favorite member of the Frasier-Ohashi clan. He lumbered somewhere around the six-foot region. While his Olympic-era physique used to be lean and trim, he maintained a bulkier figure after retiring from the sport. Korin joked he married a lumberjack with how much flannel Chase wore and his routine of chopping firewood on Thursday evenings, but Ava knew all about his secret love of smooth jazz and letting Izumi play dress up with him.
Chase and Korin had a beautiful love story, and Ava never tired of hearing it. Something about two strangers meeting at the Olympic Winter Games, falling madly in love, and continuing a clandestine long-distance relationship for almost a year afterward sounded more like a movie.
Once Chase sat, the eating commenced. However, Ava struggled to finish her plate. She scraped her spoon against the glob of Greek yogurt and fruit, picking a few bites off at a glacial pace. She knew it, and the rest of the table probably caught onto her skittish eating.
Ava coaxed a few more bites of the yogurt when Chase and Korin’s eyes settled on her, observing her movements. Her muscles froze up; they meant well, but their attention paralleled her mother’s hawkish glare across the dinner table, daring her to take one bite too many. Her mother never outright said it, but the guilt trip flashed hard in her icy eyes.
She nudged her toast a few times, eventually picking it up to sink her teeth into the light crisp and wincing behind the crunch. How many calories did peanut butter have?
The bacon stared at her from her plate, untouched, when she set down her partially eaten toast. The greasy aroma tempted her into a rough back and forth where nausea waited in the wings for its cue, almost rehearsed to the tune of her mother’s old rant about calories. Her mother skated years ago. Her knowledge about “what a good skater must do” lived in the back of Ava’s mind like the monster underneath a child’s bed. It lurked for the right opportunity to slither out.
She dared another bite of her toast, mouth too stuffed with banana and peanut butter to say a word, when Korin leaned over and lifted the bacon off her plate. Her eyes snapped up and met his, illuminated by a knowing glint. He laid the bacon on his plate and hummed, "Izumi, please eat one more bite of yogurt, and I'll take you to the playground today."
“Playground?”
“Yes, the playground. And if you ask Papa about the store, we might grab some sugar cookies for the oven.”
Ava watched Izumi peer at Chase with wide eyes, who glanced between his daughter and husband before nodding, and how she tore into her yogurt with terrifying fervor. Meanwhile, Ava could barely stomach the tentative bites of her toast without a struggle. So, she focused on her yogurt first until her spoon scraped the plate clean.
She dabbed her mouth clean, "I forgot to thank you for breakfast, Chase. Thank you."
"Aw, you're more than welcome, Sparkles. Take your time with everything since I know skaters need full stomachs to dominate the ice," said Chase. The gentle reminder almost brought tears to her eyes, knowing fully what he meant, but she took another bite for him.
“While we eat, let’s discuss our choreography ideas for the upcoming season. I received a call from your mother this morning, and she faxed over a list of acceptable themes with music selections and costume concepts.” Korin slid his empty plate away and checked the watch on his wrist.
The bite of toast in Ava’s mouth turned shameful, but she forced herself to swallow it anyway. She set her toast down and tried to ignore the rough churning of her stomach. “Oh? May I see the list?”
“Of course. I brought it with me.”
“Any themes stand out to you?” asked Chase, but his voice sounded distant behind the sudden thudding inside Ava’s ears. She accepted the folded paper her coach slid across the table and unwrapped the list from her mother, able to recognize the sloppy slanting of the letters from her mother's angry handwriting. She either wrote it in a rush or with frustration.
As expected, the list comprised several themes on par with past years—pastel pink ballerina, ice queen, fairy queen like Titania from A Midsummer’s Night Dream or The Nutcracker, Sleeping Beauty—all pastels and princess-like concepts in the costume and music choices. Her mother always stated the world saw Ava as a princess, and thus, changing would be a waste of time.
But Ava slid the list back to Korin, shaking her head. She wanted to be something different.
"What is it, Ava?" Korin accepted the paper and passed it to his husband. "Sleeping Beauty might be an interesting one with some choreography to match the character.”
“Can I propose an idea? Something not on the list?” Ava blurted out, ready to wither when Korin and Chase gawked at her. Outbursts weren't like her. Yet, she couldn't hold herself back from the truth and needed to know how much leverage she had with her new arrangement.
“Go ahead. What do you have in mind?”
"I've been thinking about branching out in themes for the short program. I know my parents would disapprove of a total deviation from my branding and people's expectations when they hear my name. So, for the short program, I wanted to try something darker, moody, and more mature."
“I’m listening.”
“Black Swan. Yes, it’s been done before by other skaters, but I don’t want to pair the costume design of a black swan character with the music associated with the ballet. Instead, I thought about choreographing a routine to Danse Macabre by Camille Saint-Saëns.”
Ava swallowed hard underneath Korin's pensive gaze but found an ally in Chase's barely contained facial expressions. She spotted his lips twitching, fighting back a smile of what she hoped was pride and how his eyes sparkled in interest.
Frankly, she was tired of playing the same character and limiting herself to a role that felt infantilizing: the ingenue princess who portrayed innocence in her rosy cheeks and a soft stare of longing out to the crowd of adoring fans. She spent her entire career in a box, and she would stop winning if she stayed inside the safety of her comfort zone.
Korin leaned back in his chair, studying her without a word, "Alright, I'll offer you a deal. If you can assemble a short program before our first rink session in two days, I will support your vision. Your mother has offered me discretion in choosing the theme. I'll convince her that I researched what will secure more gold this season."
Ava almost bolted out of her chair and tackled her coach in a fierce hug, liberated from the worries about everything. She could give her best effort. "Thank you! You have no idea what this means to me!"
"You're a good kid, Ava." Korin took one of her hands with his and held it tenderly. "Besides, we don't need you burned out and uninspired by your routines. My star, you have so much left to conquer in the skating world."
Ava nodded. Korin was right; she heard about skaters pushing themselves beyond what any reasonable person should and losing the will to continue, stacked with a lousy routine or bad coaching. Korin always kept her safe and uplifted her needs above all else.
“I’ll make a fantastic routine. I promise!” Ava grabbed her plate and grabbed another bite of toast, wanting to get enough of a meal to hold her over until lunch. She planned to lock herself in her room and race against the ticking clock to choreograph the routine of her dreams.
Korin patted her shoulder when he left the table and headed into the kitchen. Chase rose from his chair, too. He winked at Ava and flashed her a thumbs up, eliciting a smile out of her.
She had two people in her corner.
***The final days of June melted into July, but Ava had become too preoccupied to pay the heat any mind. She spent those forty-eight hours committed to thinking, breathing, and living choreography.
Yet, it worked. Ava had a breakthrough during dinner on the first night and spent several hours with several interchangeable variations. She listened to different segments of the more than seven-minute-long orchestral piece, finding her favorite one toward the end, heavily driven by the strings and woodwind instruments.
She pieced together the requirements for the short program and wasted the hours away with dance preparation off-ice for the remainder of the day. Day two, however? She begged Chase to drop her off at the rink, and she used every moment of exclusive rink time to test her choreo on ice.
She arrived at the rink after her borrowed time ended, earlier than Korin, Chase, and Izumi. Dressed in full practice gear, she stretched off the ice and fidgeted with her shimmery purple skate guards slotted over her sharpened blades. Ava had one chance to impress and convince Korin to take another risk on her, one putting her at odds with the plans her parents outlined explicitly in their demands.
She never would have opposed them if she was still training back home.
The muscles in her legs caught a subtle burn while she stretched out, waiting for the front doors to swing open and the sound of footsteps to alert her to her audience's arrival. The absence of noise cast an eeriness over the arena, and Ava chalked her hyperawareness up to nerves. Champions shouldn’t get anxious.
Ava heard the doors swing and pulled herself together, brushing off her leg warmers and insulated tights, sliding out of a perfect right split. Despite the summer heat outside, the cold congregated along the walls closest to the rink. It pierced through Ava's layers, hitting bare skin and bones.
"Are you ready, Ava?" Despite the heat, Korin appeared with Chase and Izumi in tow, all three wearing fleece pullovers and longer layers.
“More than ready! I brought my speakers and already set up a copy of my music selection, so all you’ll need is to press play,” Ava waited for the three to reach her at the ground level of the rink before she passed off the speakers. “Chase, will you do the honors?”
Chase smiled, “Of course. Now, you have a performance to crush.”
Ava accepted his dose of confidence along with the burgeoning flames of hers, growing into an undeniable force. Over the last two days, she let her hope run wild. She began to envision a plan for her season, even going as far as to consider a free skate under her new paradigm.
She hustled across the rink until she reached the entrance to the ice, sliding off her skate guards to rest along the wall. They would await her return after she skated her best routine yet.
Ava glided onto the freshly resurfaced rink, greeted with the sharp sizzling where her blades met the ice beneath her, and she inched toward the center to start. At the elite level, the whole rink was at her disposal, but she needed to have all eyes on her.
She stopped at the center and scrunched into herself, curled into a ball on the ice like a flower ready to blossom. She held her breath for a moment as she waited for her cue. As soon as the sharp cries of a string symphony filled the rink, Ava stretched out of the ball.
She gracefully accentuated every movement with long lines and flowing gestures. She pushed off, gliding around on a perfect arabesque, determined to capture the haunting yet picturesque image of the scorned Black Swan.
Into the triple lutz, then spiral out, Ava chanted internally while she prepared for the first jumps she stacked into her routine. Even without muscle memory established for her new performance, she trusted her footwork enough to carry her between the elements. Extend the time in the camel to sitting for extra rotations.
Ava brought herself right to the lutzes through her inner monologue and pushed off the ice. A tiny rush of weightlessness skyrocketed through her stomach, but she returned with a clean landing and hopefully sufficient rotations.
She glided through spirals into her spin combination, listening to the orchestra narrate every demand she made to the ice underneath her. The ice made no protest when she stepped across the entire rink, drawn to the S-shaped pattern of a serpentine step sequence or defied its call in a flying spin.
Ava counted every beat in her head, timed to every few seconds between the next element after a transition. As the music grew louder, she eyed the combined triple toe loop and triple salchow stacked into the heart of the crescendo.
She glided to the predetermined spot on the ice and readied herself to lift into the air not once but twice in seconds. Ava almost second-guessed herself, but her body moved without the hesitation of a cautious mind. She jumped and propelled herself into the easier jumps, able to skate away into the next transition.
However, she circled to the triple axel buried into the second half of her routine, preparing for when the percussion urged her to leap. She kicked off the ice and spun, desperate to feel the wind on her face.
The moment her blades scraped against the ice in a clean landing, the music softened for a gentler end to a song meaning "the dance of death." But Ava didn't plan to end without power. She stacked another gorgeous arabesque to carry her back to the center, sparing her first glance toward Korin, Chase, and Izumi.
All of them watched her when she kicked into a layback, bent with an arch in her back and her arms held high while her free leg lifted off the ice. She spun fast and hard, rotating until her free leg lifted to her head and her hands pulled her tighter, shaped into a tear for a final Biellman as her spins slowed to nothing.
Ava's arms crossed over her chest, her fingers protectively splayed over her throat, and her head tossed back for dramatic effect for a final pose. All was still while she recovered her breath and lifted her head enough to see the reactions.
At first, Chase's shocked expression had her overjoyed, but Korin's pensive one undermined the fledgling hope. Ava skated to them at the edge and grabbed onto the wall.
“I know the routine isn’t clean and some of my jumps require more polishing,” Ava murmured, unable to meet his eye. "But I promise I prioritized artistic and technical integrity when composing the routine. Go easy on me."
“Ava, look at me.”
She obeyed and finally met her coach’s eyes, finding him smiling at her. “What?”
"That routine . . . Ava, it was phenomenal. Beyond minor tweaks and perhaps an additional transition in the first half, I will co-sign the routine as it stands."
“Are you serious?”
“I am. I’ve never seen you skate like that before. The crowd will be blown away by you.” Korin pulled her in for a hug over the wall, but Ava clung to him tight and buried her face to hide the tears.
"I have a free skate idea forming, but let's focus on this first." Ava pulled back, hearing Korin’s laugh. She glanced at Izumi and Chase behind him, holding two thumbs up, and waved as she pushed back toward the ice.
“Yes, we might be in enough trouble with your mother already . . . So how about we start with the spiral after the triple lutz?”