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Scott jumped to his feet and ran from the kitchen, slowing to a casual walk as he approached the door. He stopped to take one last look in the hallway mirror, shrugged his shoulders, and reached for the doorknob.
On the other side of the doorway stood the love of his life bundled up in layers of clothing.
"Hi," Brenda said as she raised a mittened hand in salutation.
"Hi." Scott chuckled, stepping aside for her to come in. "Did it get colder outside?"
"Yeah, just a little. But I don't think we'll get any snow. I was able to see a million stars in the sky. No clouds." She stepped inside and began the strenuous work of getting out of her winter gear. Looking around the apartment as Scott closed the door, Brenda smiled. "You haven't changed the place too much. Except it looks like you've added to your trophy collection."
She waited for a response from Scott. When she got no answer, she turned around and looked at him. His eyes snapped up to hers. Brenda realized he was checking her out, and she blushed.
Scott usually saw her with no makeup wearing yoga pants or dramatic, heavy makeup in her skating costumes. It wasn't often that he saw her looking fresh with light makeup.
"You look beautiful," he said.
"Oh, uhm, well, thanks, Scott. You look real nice, too." She peeked up at him from beneath long, black lashes and smiled. "What is that amazing smell? Is it what I think it is?"
"A whole pot, just for you. Chicken soup and crusty bread."
"You must have been reading my mind. Is it almost done? I'm starving," Brenda said, feeling warm and comfortable alone with Scott. It was like time hadn't passed, and they'd picked up right where they'd left off. She took a seat on the couch.
Scott didn't have a dining room, and his kitchen cubby was too small for any dining table. So dinner would be enjoyed just as she remembered, sitting on the couch using the coffee table as their dinner table. The flat-screen television was set to a jazz music station that played quietly in the background.
"I'm glad you brought your appetite. I've got plenty just for you."
"Well, that soup was one of the things you managed to do right," Brenda said sarcastically, laughing at her own jab.
"Ouch!" Scott yelled from the kitchen, making Brenda laugh a little more.
She'd been nervous the whole ride over, missing his street and feeling her palms sweating inside her mittens, even though it was only about eighteen degrees outside.
"Dinner is served. And no, regardless of your cruel remarks, I did not spit in your soup."
"Gross. Although, as hungry as I am, that wouldn't stop me. Oh my gosh. I'd rob a bank just for the smell." Brenda turned to see Scott with a huge tray in his hands that held two big bowls of steaming soup, a basket of bread, and two glasses of water with a lemon slice floating in each one. "Oh, Scott, this does look wonderful. All kidding aside."
Brenda helped herself to a bowl, letting her hands enjoy the warmth through the ceramic. She ate her first steaming bowlful, feeling the hot liquid warm her body from the inside out.
"So good, Scott. Really. And I hope you have enough for seconds because I'm not holding back. I'll work out extra hard tomorrow."
Scott tore into a piece of bread and nodded. In between bites, he asked her how she was feeling.
"To be honest, I must have been a little strung out because as soon as we got home, I collapsed into bed and took a long nap." Brenda purposely omitted the part about waking up and trying on at least four different outfits before settling on the one she was currently wearing.
"I can believe that. But how are you feeling?" Scott tapped the side of his head. "Noticing any weirdness? Anything out of the ordinary?" He scooped another heaping spoonful of the soup into his mouth while looking at her.
"No. I feel ... just like myself. Just like I'm supposed to."
He smiled at her and stirred the soup in his bowl thoughtfully.
"What's on your mind?" Brenda asked as she thought about getting another bowlful of soup.
"I have a confession to make. I knew our routine was stellar. I knew we both were spot on. But do you know how rare it is for a new pair of skaters to qualify for Sectionals? I mean, it takes a long time for some pairs to really click, and here we are, just a stone's throw away from qualifying for the Olympics. I'm... I'm humbled, that's all."
Brenda blushed. They weren't total strangers thrown together by a coach. They'd known each other for years and knew how the other ticked.
"So." Scott cleared his throat. "What do you think you'll do if we make it to the Olympics?"
"Ha! Win! What else is there to do?" Brenda laughed aloud, rolling her eyes playfully at Scott as if he'd asked the silliest question she'd ever heard.
"So, tell me, Miss Wagner. You've just won the Olympic gold medal. What are you going to do now?" Scott reached out his arm toward Brenda, holding his spoon in front of her face as if it were a microphone.
Brenda laughed and shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know. I haven't really given it too much thought. I'd like to win at least one medal. But so much has happened. So I think I'll just let go and let God. Maybe there will be school, a job, marriage, and babies in my future. Maybe—" She cut herself off, feeling she'd said too much, shaking her head, her hair swaying beautifully in front of her face. She gently tucked one side of it behind her ear and reached for a piece of bread.
"I think God has amazing things in store for you, Brenda. And if making it to the Olympics is God's will, well, I have no doubt we'll be there."
They finished their meal and discussed their plans for practice, addressing a few concerns before complimenting each other. The evening ended with Brenda feeling completely comfortable in Scott's presence.
"Well, I wish I didn't have to, but I better get back home. It's getting late, and you know Pamela is going to totally make up for these few hours off tomorrow," Brenda said, rising and grabbing her coat.
Scott quickly took it from her hands, shook it out, and held it for her to slip her arms into. He pulled the front closed for her, tugging the coat tight and adjusting it for a few seconds longer than necessary. Brenda looked at Scott's face, so dangerously close. His lips were mere inches away, and, as much as she wanted to kiss them, she settled for a hug, deeply inhaling the scent of his skin again. As she went to pull away, Scott held her, his hands around her waist, and Brenda didn't seem in a hurry to remove hers from his massive chest. She looked up at him. He didn't say a word, and, for a brief flash, she thought he might bend down to kiss her. He made a slight move in that direction but jerked back, let her go, and laughed. "Well, I'm glad you liked the soup."
"Oh, delicious isn't even the word for it," Brenda said, rubbing her tummy.
"Maybe we could do this again sometime."
"I'd like that. I'd invite you to my house for dinner, but it's always like Grand Central Station. Just throw a couple of pigeons into the kitchen, and you'd hardly notice the difference."
"I wouldn't mind. As long as you were there." Scott blinked and looked down at his shoes.
Brenda smiled and pulled on her hat and gloves before wrapping her extra-long scarf around her face. "Well, now I'm sweating, so I better go. Thank you, Scott. I really had a lovely time."
"No. The pleasure was all mine. Thank you, Brenda. I'll see you bright and early."
Brenda waved her mittened hand as Scott opened the door for her. She stepped out and headed down the hallway as Scott watched her disappear down the stairs.
Before her head disappeared below the landing, Scott wanted to yell out to her. To tell her how he was feeling and that he'd wait forever for her if she needed him to. He'd spill his guts and tell her everything about himself, his family, where everyone was, what they were doing, and why he had no choice that day. That day had changed the course of both their lives. But Scott couldn't budge. He remained frozen, just watching her.
"But she did come over. And it was a very nice evening. And there's still time. Maybe not much, but there's still time," Scott said to himself, smiling as he shut the door.
Brenda slammed her car door once she was inside. Sitting in the cold darkness, watching her hot breath billow out in front of her from her nose and mouth, she wished she'd kissed Scott. The thought that she wanted so badly to kiss him made her mad at herself. Had she forgiven him for standing her up? Was that chicken soup so good that it melted the anger that had been inside her for so long?
She'd been a nervous wreck on the way to Scott's apartment. She remembered visiting him so many times before. They'd play Scrabble, talk, watch television, and sometimes sneak in a kiss here and there. Her cheeks flushed with heat as those memories surfaced.
It wasn't like she hadn't been on a date or two in the past five years. She'd gone out once with a fellow she met during one of her runs through the park. He was a nice enough guy who was fit and read the Bible. But there was just no spark. And then there was the guy she met when she'd gone to the store for her mother to pick up the eggs. He was also nice and made Brenda laugh when he told her he didn't know how to shop in a grocery store because he could never find anything. But, when they finally stepped out for a cup of coffee, he mentioned he didn't want to get married and that children were definitely out of the question. Brenda saw that as a dead end. And that was it for her dating history since Scott.
Brenda didn't want to fall for him again, did she? He didn't seem to be totally opposed to her being around him, even when they were off the ice. What did it mean? What did it mean that she thought about him all the time? Why did she always want to talk with him? Why was she playful around him, forgetting that the accident brought them together? Brenda sighed.
"That's some freaking good soup," she muttered to herself. But she didn't say another word. Instead, she put on the radio and listened to the next love song that came on, feeling warm and happy and content. She wasn't holding her breath for an Olympic medal but decided right then to let go and let God.
