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Why she was going to the scene of the accident, she wasn’t sure. But Brenda wanted to, needed to, go there. It was like she’d left something behind—her wallet or glasses or some other valuable, expensive thing, and she was trying to retrace her steps to find it.
It was the day of qualifying for the U.S. Skating Championship. Her friend, Jennifer Connelly was in it. She’d trained for many years alongside Brenda but was a few years younger. After Brenda had started her therapy, she was shocked to see Jennifer standing at the door of her room at the rehab center one day with a teddy bear, a bag of gummy worms, and a get-well card. From that day on, their friendship grew like ivy on a brick wall. Jennifer was like a second therapist but very unlike Rebecca, who still insisted there were newborn babies moving better than Brenda at times, and always said: one more time.
“One more time and then you can stop wiggling your toes.”
“One more time and you can put your weights down.”
“One more time and you’ll get it.”
Jennifer was a plain-looking girl with ash brown hair, blue eyes, and dimples. She rarely turned a head when she walked into the rink to practice. But when she was on the ice to perform, she became a warrior. Her music was always loud and edgy, and she had the tendency to yell, clap, and sing along with the words of her songs. She may not have been the best skater on the ice, but she was the one everyone remembered.
A few weeks before, she’d asked Brenda if she’d like to come see her perform at this event. Her nervousness when asking the question was obvious.
“It would mean a lot if you could come,” Jennifer insisted. “I picked out some special music. I think you’ll get a kick out of it.” Her blue eyes were steady on Brenda’s face, and she held her breath.
Brenda smiled. “That’s my last day of therapy, and there isn’t anything I’d like more than to see what you’ve come up with this time.”
But now that she was on her way to the rink, Brenda was beginning to think maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. Maybe it was too soon to go back.
Right, it’s only been a year, you big wimp, the voice in her head jabbed relentlessly. If not now, when? You promised Jennifer. People know and will be happy to see you. Talk to Pamela.
The large, square building that had seemed so far away was now getting closer and closer as the car sped along. Her heart began to pound in her chest, and she was sure her parents could hear it. Had it really been a year since she’d been here? What did it matter? Her injury was completely healed, the doctors had said. Her walk was normal with the exception of a slight deviation to the right at times. It was her peripheral vision that was a little questionable, but this was ice-skating, not driving an eighteen-wheeler. She could handle it. And she was just here to cheer Jennifer on. No decisions had to be made this very minute.
As much as she hated to admit it, she did have an ulterior motive for going. Pamela would be there, and Brenda wanted to see what her thoughts were on getting back on the ice. There was no harm in asking.
Her parents dropped her off at the southwest entrance. Climbing out of the car, she let them know she’d call them when she was ready to come home. She gave them a big smile and stepped through the skaters’ entrance.
Once inside, she was afraid she might cry. She walked down the hallway leading to the locker room. It was quiet except for the sound of the music being played for the current performer on the ice and the occasional cheers and whoops from the spectators. Making her way to the main hallway, she saw the familiar posters of great ice skaters: {Scott Hamilton, Katarina Witt, Peggy Fleming, and a dozen more.}
Stepping gingerly out into the skaters’ corral, Brenda looked around. Several familiar faces turned to see who’d joined them. They all lit up, smiling and waving to her. Brenda approached Jennifer, who was busy warming up. “I’m so glad you came,” she whispered to Brenda, reaching out and squeezing her arm excitedly.
“I wouldn’t have missed it.” Brenda continued to look around and felt much better now that she had a friend with her. “So, what music did you pick? I can’t stand the wait.”
Jennifer stood up, squared her shoulders and gave her a wink. “You’ll love it.” She walked to the stretching bars, leaving Brenda to find Pamela. Her mind was whirring and buzzing with a hundred thoughts and emotions but nothing she could focus on. She tried to think of the right words to say, the way to express them to make sure Pamela understood how serious she was, but, in her nervousness, her thoughts would appear and then drift away like smoke.
Sitting down next to her former coach, Brenda felt as uneasy as a girl wearing a two-piece bathing suit for the first time at a public pool.
When Pamela looked to her right and saw Brenda sitting next to her, she burst into a smile and then, seconds later, began to cry. She stretched out her arms and hugged Brenda, who suddenly wondered what she’d been so nervous about.
“It’s so good to see you, Brenda. So wonderful! You look amazing!” Pamela gushed. Her eyes bounced all over Brenda but seemed to purposely avoid her ankles and feet.
“I feel great, Coach. I feel better than I think I ever have. Stronger, you know.” Brenda smiled excitedly. This was the first time she’d had a chance to discuss her plans seriously with someone who’d known her since she first put on ice skates. Pamela had been there through every win, every loss, and everything in between.
“Do you remember that time when I was about sixteen years old, and you took all of us girls to that lake resort for the day? What was that place called? It had a weird-sounding name.”
Pamela was nodding and smiling as she glanced at one of her girls’ rivals on the ice, Macy LaGrange. “That was Hiwanka Lake.”
“Yeah, remember that? I think we must have skated back and forth on that ice at least a thousand times. It was so huge. That was fun.”
Pamela nodded and looked searchingly at Brenda. “So tell me. How are you feeling, really?”
Brenda bit her lower lip and looked out onto the rink. Taking a deep breath, she leveled her gaze at Pamela and nodded enthusiastically. “It’s true, Coach. I feel great. Today I finished my therapy, free and clear. My therapist and doctor both said that I’m almost a hundred percent.” She smiled proudly.
“Almost?” Pamela asked, her eyes digging in deep.
“Oh, you know doctors, Coach. They can’t say you’re a hundred percent back in shape for fear of lawsuits,” Brenda replied, rolling her eyes and hoping the nervousness in her voice was only audible to her.
“You know, it would be great if you came back to the rink,” Pamela said, looking down at the itinerary for the day’s line-up. Her eyes stayed focused on the paper as she spoke.
Brenda’s heart leapt. Was it really going to be this easy to get Pamela to agree to coach her again? Why did she worry and fret over this when it seemed like Pamela had been thinking the same thing she had?
Before Brenda could answer, Pamela continued, “I think the girls would benefit immensely from talking to you, learning from you. You could have a regularly scheduled class on the importance of warming up, of paying attention to your body’s signals, and eating right. All the things that, in my opinion, can’t be emphasized enough.”
Brenda heard nothing about getting back into training—about starting slow, about building up strength, about eighteen months until the Sectionals, about how much time she needed on the ice. No. She said something about classes and eating right. What in the world was Pamela talking about?
“I think a lot of girls would benefit from getting points from you, Brenda, instead of just their mothers. If anyone understands exactly what they’re all going through, it’s you.”
Brenda had been unconsciously holding her breath. Putting her hand to her throat, she finally found her voice. “I was thinking more along the lines of skating again.” Brenda looked at Pamela as if she were completely daft for thinking anything else.
“I know that’s what you’d like, Brenda, but the answer is no.”
Shaking her head, positive she’d heard her wrong, Brenda stood up. Pamela stood too and faced her square on.
“So, you mean to tell me you won’t even discuss it?” said Brenda, feeling her anger rising. “I’m supposed to just say okay and let my dream fall apart like it was never anything real to begin with?” She felt tears starting to burn her eyes, but this time her heart was raging at the unfairness of it all. “I should be happy to tell a bunch of girls to eat their veggies and warm up before they practice, and make sure their laces are tight enough for ankle support, and all that Skating 101 stuff?”
Pamela took a deep breath and clutched her clipboard to her chest. “Brenda, you were a great skater. Your fans and your family and friends will always remember what you gave them. But I’m not going to encourage you to do something the doctors won’t sign off on.”
Brenda’s mouth hung open. “Are you telling me you’re afraid of a lawsuit, too? Coach, I’m telling you, I’m ready. There isn’t anything to worry about. My ankle is—”
“Your ligament was torn completely from the bone,” Pamela interrupted sharply. “Your knee was turned almost completely around, and why it didn’t snap was a miracle in itself. But when you hit your head ...” Tears welled in Pamela’s eyes, and she struggled to continue speaking. “When you hit your head, I saw more than a slip on the ice. I knew your ankle was bothering you a little, but I figured you knew best. I trusted you to make an adult decision, but the fact is that although you may be in your twenties, I’m the real adult here. I didn’t protect you.”
Brenda stood there listening, not daring to move a muscle.
“Your ankle healed. Your knee is fine. The doctors said you made an amazing recovery. But your head, well, that’s a little different, isn’t it Bren? And don’t lie to me.”
Brenda set her mouth, glared at Pamela but said nothing.
“You lean to the left a little when you walk. Can’t stop it. There’s a possibility of blackouts and migraines and a few other issues that could strike at any time, even in mid-routine, right?”
Brenda still couldn’t bring herself to say anything. She wanted to defend herself, to tell Pamela this was an exaggeration of her injuries and that it was nothing more than a simple trip ... with a little head trauma to spice things up. But Pamela’s words stung because they were true. None of what Pamela was saying could be swept away or shrugged off.
Pamela quickly wiped away her tears. Brenda had never seen her cry. She never saw anything more than a strong, competent woman who knew everybody won some, everybody lost some, trying was the most important thing, in the end family is what matters, and all the other glorious beliefs that made her a great coach. Crying wasn’t what she did. She wiped away other people’s tears. She didn’t shed them, at least not where anyone could see her.
This display of emotion made Brenda feel scared inside, but no words came from her mouth.
“I was so worried about you when you got hurt. To see you lying out there, not moving. To see your father nearly kill himself jumping over the rail from the stands to get to you. I never had anything like that happen before to one of my girls. It terrified me.”
Finally seeing something she could argue against that could work in her favor, Brenda spoke. “So? So you’re scared. I get scared. That doesn’t mean you give up.”
“You don’t understand, Brenda. It’s more than just being scared. It’s seeing someone you love get hurt. You’ve never seen that. You’re just too young. But your mother and father have. I have. And the feeling of utter helplessness that comes with seeing that is far more painful than a bruised ego.”
Brenda bit her tongue and pouted, thinking hard, but it seemed there wasn’t a single thought in her head. She felt removed from her body as if she was an actor in a film. But when she blinked and saw that the severe expression on Pamela’s face hadn’t changed, she knew it was all too real.
“I’m sorry, Brenda, and I know you’ll hate me for a long time. But I’m saying to you now what I should have said over a year ago. You’re not skating. Maybe it’s selfish, but I couldn’t bear it if something happened to you.”
Taking a moment to compose herself, Pamela walked over to Jennifer, who was about to begin her routine. A few words were whispered into her ear, and then Pamela stepped aside to let her enter the rink. Instead of going back to her seat, Pamela remained at the rail with her back to Brenda. The discussion was obviously over.
Jennifer winked at Brenda, totally oblivious of the conversation in which Pamela had verbally ripped Brenda’s heart from her chest. The girl hurried to the center of the rink where, in a few short seconds, the silence was broken as the heavy-metal drumbeat of a familiar 80s song shook the entire place. Jennifer smiled wildly as she began her routine.
Trying to watch her friend, Brenda found she couldn’t see anything. For as loud as the music was, she didn’t hear it. What had she just been told? That no matter how hard she tried, no matter what was in her heart, it didn’t matter? Why did she work on getting her arms stronger? Why did she make sure she could stretch her legs even better than before the accident? Why did she push herself harder and harder to recuperate faster if all she was going to do was sit and waste away on the sofa watching videos of herself when she used to be somebody?
No, this couldn’t be it. This wasn’t the end. She watched Jennifer glide over the ice, having the time of her life. She smiled and sang the words to the raucous song she’d picked out, bobbing her head with the audience’s clapping hands. Even when she stumbled a little, causing at least one point to be deducted from her total, she kept smiling as if the score didn’t even matter.
She got a score much higher than Brenda would have expected. It was a 9.0, putting her in third place. There were still six skaters waiting to perform, and it was inevitable that one of them would do better, pushing Jennifer back to fourth and out of the running. But Jennifer didn’t seem to care as she waved to her parents and giggled giddily as she stepped back into the skaters’ corral.
“How was that?” she panted to Brenda, nudging her with an elbow.
“I’m surprised your mom let you use that song.”
“She loves that song. No swearing. No vulgarity. Just loud. Plus my nana is in the stands, and she always gripes that she can’t hear the classical stuff.”
“Well, you did great.” Brenda forced herself to be cheery, but her gut was in knots.
“I tripped up a little. No big deal. I’ll get it next time. I’m going to go say hi to my peeps real quick. Let’s get together sometime before you’re back on the ice and kicking all our butts again.” With another wink, Jennifer happily stomped in her blades to where her parents were hanging over the rails, waiting to hug her.
For a second, Brenda wondered how many overzealous fans lost their balance and fell over the guardrail, landing with a thud on the carpet below. None, she guessed, since they’d certainly put an end to that ritual at this rink if it ever happened.
Standing there alone, Brenda heard the words Jennifer had said echo in her mind. It was like she’d missed them the first time. Let’s get together sometime before you’re back on the ice and kicking all our butts again. How could she have said those words to her after what Pamela had just told her? According to the best coach in the Midwest, there wasn’t going to be any more skating. Didn’t she get the memo? Jennifer just kept trotting around as if nothing bad would ever happen to her. But it wasn’t Jennifer’s fault. Brenda knew this. It was anger and jealousy and envy and all those nasty things that eat a person up inside.
God, what am I supposed to do now? Just show me the way. Point me in the right direction. I’m so lost right now. I don’t know where home is.
Home. Her parents were waiting for her. There she could get a little breathing room. She could get centered and refocus and explore all her options, not just the option Pamela gave her.
Before going out into the cold, Brenda called her parents to pick her up. It wouldn’t have been terrible to hop on the bus since it made a stop two blocks from her house, but she just didn’t feel like seeing anyone, even strangers.
She roamed around the locker room and found her own locker. The pictures she’d stuck on the door were still there. One was of her in a bright green costume that her mother had made. That was during her green phase. Brenda remembered that when she was about ten years old, none of the skaters ever wore green. It was always pink or purple or white or black. So, for about a year, Brenda found some of the most obnoxious shades of green fabric, which her mother designed into beautiful little skating outfits. And she was right. She stood out even then among all the others as a risk-taker and not afraid to be noticed.
Inside her locker, there were a couple of good luck cards from her friends and some dried flowers left over from a bouquet her father had given her after winning an important competition. Just then, her phone beeped with a text letting her know her parents were waiting for her out front. Shutting the locker door quietly, Brenda hesitated for a moment, wondering if she should clear her things out. Not yet, she decided. She’d come back another time and gather her stuff. Right now, she just wanted to get home.
