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Only Pamela and the Zamboni driver were at the rink when Brenda entered the door. Strutting in with skates over her shoulder and a bag in her hand, Brenda smiled and waved to both of them as she entered the skaters' corral and took a seat. Then she slipped into her skates, tightened them snuggly around her ankles, and began stretching her muscles. Deep down, Brenda secretly hoped that, once she hit the ice, Pamela would see how stable and strong she was. She'd see that even a year off didn't impact her ability, and she could pick up right where she left off. No partner necessary. Stranger things had happened. Perhaps Brenda would find that after all the therapy and rest, she was stronger than before.
She finished stretching, took a couple of deep breaths, stood up, and went to the ice. Then, gingerly, she took her first step onto the frozen surface and glided effortlessly to the middle of the rink.
It felt weird. Brenda wasn't prepared for that. It was like trying to use your hand after it had fallen asleep. First came the familiar tingling and inability to move for a few seconds before the blood coursed through her muscles. Her blades carried her across the ice with little effort as she made turns and simple spins. For a few moments, Brenda really thought nothing had changed. Everything in front of her looked the way it was supposed to. But her peripheral vision tricked her when she gained speed and coasted to the farthest edges of the rink. "Whoa!" she shouted when the side wall appeared dangerously closer than she'd anticipated. Her voice echoed, and when she looked up, she saw Pamela watching her.
Okay, just a minor setback. Not the end of the world. Brenda could overcome that error with a bit of practice. Sure. Totally. But Brenda's own thoughts betrayed her. Deep down, she thought—for just a split second—that if she had a partner who could signal how close she was, she could have adjusted her steps.
Her eyes instinctively went to Pamela, who'd continued talking with the Zamboni driver. His name was Hank or Harold. Brenda knew it started with an "H" but couldn't quite remember at the moment. She shook off her concerns and maneuvered into the middle of the ring. Brenda attempted a few simple lunges, a backward crossover to gain speed, a smooth spiral, and a quick bunny hop.
Whoa...take it easy, Brenda. You don't want to overdo it.
Her eyes bounced back to Pamela, who'd seen everything. Then, as her cheeks heated up, Brenda smiled and waved and made her way to the edge of the rink where her coach was standing.
"Good morning," Pamela shouted.
"Looking pretty good out there, Brenda!"
"Thanks, Henry!" Henry, that was his name. "I'm feeling a little rusty. But it feels good to be back."
Pamela looked at Brenda and then plopped down on the floor. She began to put her own ice skates on as she spoke. "Okay, I saw you get a little close to the wall, and your balance is a little shaky."
"I think that's just first-day jitters," Brenda offered hopefully.
Pamela peeked up at her. "Uh-huh. Your partner has been briefed on your condition, and we've discussed a plan that you'll be brought in on today."
Brenda nodded and fought the knot forming in her gut. She preferred to know everything upfront. But this consultation with her partner before she started made her feel like a troublesome student sitting outside the principal's office.
"We weren't talking about you, Brenda. We were discussing a strategy. This is lesson one for you, and it will probably be the hardest thing you learn. You're going to have to trust another person." Pamela stood up and stepped onto the ice. "You've relied on yourself all these years to get the moves right. Now, all that's going to change." Pamela smiled as if this was something Brenda should be excited about.
In fact, Brenda was annoyed. "Well, when is he supposed to get here?"
"He should be here any minute. I plan on you guys mirroring each other for the whole time. This is your first time back on the ice since your accident. I'm not going to give you any more time to skate alone. You're going to relearn everything with your partner."
From behind them came the call of a familiar voice. "Good morning! Is it cold enough out there? Of all days for the heater to give out in my car."
Brenda's heart sank lower as she recognized the voice.
"You're right on time. Take a few minutes to get warmed up, and we can begin." Pamela glanced at Brenda, who was expressionless. She stood there looking at Scott, not realizing she was holding her breath. Then, as she exhaled, a hissing sound escaped her lips.
"Why didn't you tell me Scott would be my partner?" Her voice was low, but her words were sharp.
"Because I didn't. Brenda, it isn't up to you to choose who you're partnered with. It's up to me. You've worked with Scott before. He knows your style. He knows your strengths and weaknesses. He's the one guy looking out for you, and that's what you need. If you let yourself, you'll advance with him."
Brenda wanted to scream. She wondered whether she'd find the camera and the group of people playing this tasteless joke on her if she looked around carefully. They'd pop up; everyone would have a good laugh, and then Scott would leave the rink. Joke over. But there was no camera.
Brenda clenched her teeth behind her lips.
Pamela studied her and stepped a little closer. "Is this going to be a problem?"
"Well, just a little," Brenda said quietly but with extra sarcasm.
"Why? Because of your history with him? You're going to have to do something you haven't before, Brenda. You're going to have to forget the past. You can keep thinking about how you used to skate. You can keep thinking of when you guys used to be friends, and you can remain frozen in time, or ... you can grow up and see what kind of adventure is in front of you. But make up your mind, and do it quickly because I've got things to do." Pamela stared unblinkingly at Brenda.
Brenda knew she wasn't trying to be unkind. Pamela was completely right. But Brenda's ego was stubborn and not easy to bend.
Still clenching her teeth, Brenda stepped into the skaters' corral. She was ready to leave. She wanted to run and not look back, but her skates prevented her from doing anything more than hobble her way toward the locker room.
"Brenda, wait!" Scott yelled. He looked at Pamela, raised his hands, and shrugged his shoulders. "Brenda!"
He was steadier on his feet and quickly caught up to Brenda before she disappeared into the girls' locker room. "Where are you going?" he asked.
"What?" She stopped and looked at him as if he'd turned green. "You don't really expect me to stick around? You, as my skating partner? It's like a bad joke."
Scott looked down at his skated feet. "Would you just sit with me for a minute? For just one minute?" His voice was soft and gentle.
Brenda wanted so badly to hate him. It would make everything so much easier. And she wanted to hate Pamela for this whole set-up. Instead, she sat on one of the benches at the edge of the hallway. It was ice cold through the fabric of her yoga pants.
The silence crept between them, and it wove its way in and around their bodies for three minutes, making it impossible to talk.
Finally, Scott spoke. "I think it's courageous of you to come back on the ice, Brenda. I'd be honored if you'd let me be your partner."
"Be your partner? That's a funny choice of words. I'm having a weird feeling of deja vu. I think you said that to me before, and we all know how that turned out." Her voice was sharp and hard. "Are you going to leave me alone again at some big competition to be humiliated and laughed at? And then come up with some amazing, fantastic excuse you can't tell me?" She folded her arms over her chest.
Scott looked at Brenda. "I know you're still upset, but—"
"Upset?" she spat. "Is that the word you think captures it?" She started to fumble with the laces on her left skate but only succeeded in making a good, strong knot. "Let me ask you something, Scott. Did you think it would break my heart, or was I just going to shrug my shoulders and say, 'Oh, well, stuff happens?"
Scott didn't move. He didn't make a sound.
"Did you think I'd be mad at everyone, even God, for letting this happen? Imagine blaming God for letting me feel something I thought was love. But it was only a bunch of smoke and mirrors. Or, as my dad would say, a lot of bull-should."
"I wanted to tell you, Brenda. You have to believe that. But—"
"You wanted to tell me, but? But what?" Brenda's voice had remained low and controlled.
Brenda stood up. She hadn't gotten anywhere skating, and she hadn't gotten anywhere with Scott. So the only thing to do now was leave.
"I had no choice. My friend was—" He bit off the words of truth. "I just had no choice, Brenda."
Pursing her lips, Brenda shook her head. Why was all of this being piled on top of her today? Hadn't she been through enough already? Surprisingly, she didn't cry or stumble as she walked toward the locker room. All she felt was a numbness, an emptiness that settled in the pit of her stomach and made her feel weighted down.
Brenda made it to her locker and stood there for a few minutes before hearing the soft sound of gym shoes padding down the aisle.
"Brenda?" It was Pamela. Brenda felt an awkward tinge as she realized her lesson for the day was over before it even began. "Honey, are you all right."
Brenda whirled around, determined to stay angry and stubborn, but something in her coach's face wiped it away. Instead, Brenda let out a long groan and put her hands up to her face. "You should have told me you picked Scott to assist with my charity case," she said, her voice muffled by her hands. "Then I could have been prepared." When she lowered her hands, Brenda looked beaten and worn out.
"Maybe you're right. But you're both here now. If you want, we've still got over forty-five minutes left. It isn't going to get any harder than that first step, Brenda."
Brenda's heart leaped with nervousness. "I'm getting a little sick and tired of you being right, Pamela. Can't you throw me a bone or something? Just let me enjoy a temper tantrum for a few minutes?" Humor and sarcasm were her favorite defense weapons, especially when she knew she'd been licked. "I want to skate, Pamela. I really do."
"I know that, Bren. So, let's get started."
With her head slightly lowered in embarrassment, Brenda joined Pamela as they made their way to the rink where Scott was making lazy circles on the ice near the skaters' corral, waiting. He looked up, and Brenda saw his worried face transform into a surprised smile. She didn't smile back, but she didn't growl at him either.
Brenda took a deep breath before stepping onto the ice. She stuffed the feeling of awkwardness down into the toe of her skate and sailed up to Scott's side. Then she turned and faced Pamela, who was tying her own skates.
"All right, you guys. Let's get started."
The instructions were simple. Brenda felt they were too simple for her, but the complaints stayed locked behind her teeth. And when she found some of these easy moves to be a little trickier than she remembered, she was glad she hadn't spoken out. Unfortunately, Scott's moves were flawless—like his smile and strong arms and ... wait. Brenda shook her head, trying to toss out the positive feelings about the man who'd dumped her. Not just left but stood her up at the altar. A special kind of resentment was reserved for that kind of behavior. Brenda had held it for so long that thinking something positive about Scott was like walking on a tightrope. And to make matters worse, her subpar skating highlighted her lack of recent training.
She was supposed to grab his hand for a simple backward crossover. When she felt his warm palm, a ripple of excitement ran through her, making her take an extra step that threw off their rhythm. They were just to glide next to each other, with Brenda holding his right hand at her waist with her left hand crossed over her body. It was a simple step. It always looked so pretty and innocent from the stands. But the feeling of her shoulder against Scott's chest made her trip just a little, and she suffered a small knick in her calf from her skate. And, if she hadn't made enough mistakes, a simple step where she was to turn backward and grab hold of Scott's hands ended in a sprawled-out mess on the ice when her vision played tricks on her, causing her to misjudge the distance between her, the wall, and Scott. Thankfully, she landed on her butt, and the only thing damaged was her pride.
Scott reached down his hand like a complete gentleman to help her up. "It's all right. You've just got to get into the groove of things."
The words 'shut up' rose in Brenda's throat. Instead, she took his hand, pulled herself to her feet, and dusted herself off, hoping the embarrassment might fall to the ground with the pieces of ice.
During all the time Brenda had pushed herself in therapy, she kept focusing on returning to this rink. It would be a piece of cake, like a fish to water or a bird to the sky. Now she felt more like those little girls whose mamas dress them up in cute winter outfits to see them wobble their way along a stretch of ice no bigger than a pool table, all the while clapping and hooting and cheering them on—not because they were good but because they were just so cute trying. That was how Brenda felt.
She made her way back to the corral and brushed herself off. Brenda refused to look at Scott, who was skating safely behind her. She assumed he was familiar enough with her personality that he was giving her some space.
"I'm just not used to working with a partner," Brenda said to him over her shoulder. "I think I'm just hard-wired to do this alone."
She'd said this out of Pamela's earshot. When the coach reached the pair, she studied Brenda's face—her flushed cheeks and eyes looking down at her feet. "You guys did well. For the first try, I didn't expect it to be as smooth as it was. Let's call it a morning, and I'll see you both here at the same time on Wednesday. Okay? And—"
Before Pamela could finish her sentence, Brenda stomped off toward the ladies' locker room.
"Are you sure you know what you're doing, Pamela?" Scott asked.
"No. But I'm hopeful."
