Chapter 18

It wasweird how easily I could get up and out of bed when I knew I was going to be spending time with Shaun.

When I'd been meeting with Ilya at the ass crack of dawn, I'd hated it. Through a long talk with Dr. L a few weeks ago, I had worked out that it wasn't the act of waking up and practicing I disliked so much, it was knowing I had to face Ilya and his unrealistic goals. It seemed so clear now that I was distanced from him. What a pity that the skater girls and I hadn't seen it when we were living it. Dr. L said that was something that was experienced by many in an abusive relationship, especially young adults who had no skills in dealing with such unhealthy situations. Sitting at the rink on the Chesterford campus with a cup of hot chocolate and a skinny bagel with whipped cream cheese, I felt good. Gifts from Shaun for accompanying him. He'd also given me a few dozen kisses along the way. I liked the kisses way more than that bagel, but I was eating it. Slowly. Bite by bite.

Deep down, where the half a bagel sat in my belly, I felt as if I should be out there at the other end of the ice. I felt guilty for abandoning figure skating. The sport hadn't done anything to me; my coach had. Yet, I couldn't imagine lacing skates on my feet now. Whenever I did, I got clammy, and my pulse rocketed. Just another thing to hold against Ilya.

"Hello, fellow early bird," I heard as Trent Hanson made his way to me, his smile bright, his eyeshadow a brilliant blue that went well with the coat he wore. He carried a thermos of coffee, as well as a bag stuffed with all the things a coach might need for his students. The bag was quilted and pink as his cheeks. Over his shoulder hung a pair of well-loved black figure skates. "Mind if I sit?"

"Please do," I replied, lifting a few cloth shopping bags from the seat beside me. "Let me move these."

"Thanks. Oh boy, this weather huh? Yesterday, it was forty, and today, they're calling for it to jump into the sixties. Spring in Pennsylvania." He settled into his seat, placing his bag and skates on the floor beside his tiny feet while juggling his coffee.

"Yeah, it's unpredictable," I offered, then glanced at Shaun, working on his stick-handling.

"He's very good," Trent commented after a moment or two of silently admiring my boyfriend's skill. "Dieter says he has a real chance of making the pros."

"He will. I know it." I replied proudly.

"I'm sure he will. So, Kenji, while we have a few minutes alone, I have a couple of things I want to talk to you about."

I peeked over at him, my bagel resting on my thigh, half-eaten. I was pacing myself. If I stuffed too much in at once, I felt anxious. Little steps, little bites. It was my new motto.

"Okay," I said hesitantly before lifting my cup to my lips.

"Are you here to skate?"

"Oh. No, no, I'm not… I'm not ready for that."

He nodded, a shank of deep purple hair falling into his eye. He blew it away with a puff. The man changed hair colors like I did my nail polish.

"Totally understandable. I have a few of my new students showing up today for an introductory class. They used to be in your group."

Oh, the girls. Anita, Evelyn, and Harper. "Cool, they're good skaters."

"They requested me and, of course, I couldn't deny them. The school was gracious enough to let us use the ice here. Are you okay with seeing them skate?"

I nodded instantly, then shook my head, then exhaled. "Sorry, I don't know? I mean… I want to say yes to make you happy, but Dr. L says that isn't healthy. That I need to learn how to speak up to authority figures politely, but firmly so…"

"I understand one hundred percent. Thank you for being honest. That's why I wanted to speak with you before they showed up. They're due in thirty minutes."

"Okay, thanks. Shaun and I will be gone by then. We're going to Whole Foods to pick up foods for our two-month anniversary dinner tonight. He's cooking for me. It's all stupid romantic."

"Oh, my gods, that is delightful! Congrats, babe!" He gave my knee a squeeze. "I'll be quick about things then, so as not to make you late. Okay, so I have a confession to make and a story to share with you. One that might make you hate me."

"I doubt it." That was impossible. Trent was too much of a friend for me to ever get mad at him. He'd been nothing but supportive and?—

"I was the coach who spoke to Ilya about you." Oh. Oh. That news hit like a punch to the face. It blindsided me. "I know, it was none of my business, but in a way it was. I've known Ilya for a long time. His methods are outdated, to put it nicely, and dangerous to put it bluntly. A child should never leave the ice in tears. Ever. We're not here to punish our students or bully them. We're here to guide, to coach, to teach. Teaching should not involve tears."

I didn't know what to say, so I said nothing yet. The hurt was strong. Ilya had been terrible to me after someone—and now I knew it was Trent—had called him out on his strong-arm bullshit. I'd suffered because of Trent interfering.

"If you're mad," Trent said with caution. "That's totally reasonable. I just wanted you to know that the reason I approached him was out of concern for your health. I could see the unspoken signs of his mental abuse on your sweet face." He stared out at the ice. "I had a friend way back—one of Ilya's first students. She was a bright and brilliant quasar of a girl. Her skating skills were way above mine at that age. We skated at the same rink in Pittsburgh, where Ilya had first settled after coming to America to live and coach. I watched her slowly wither. The bloom gone from her cheeks, the sunshine leaving her eyes, and the weight slowly slipping from her slim frame. She left skating when she became too weak to compete. My friend… she never skated again. She passed at seventeen from her eating disorder."

"I'm sorry," I choked out, tears blurring my vision.

Trent dashed at his eyes, his hands quaking, as the memory clawed at him. "I am too. She was a beautiful, vibrant flower crushed by an evil man who should be nowhere near young, impressionable minds. So, when I saw some of the same patterns showing up with his treatment of you… I had to speak up. I should have done so earlier, and for that I apologize. Perhaps, I could have spared you some pain."

I had no clue what to say in the face of his agony and mine. The urge to apologize for something—everything—was strong, but I held back from doing that. I'd done nothing wrong. Still, I felt empathy for his past, for his friend, and for him.

"I'm really sad that you lost your friend," I replied cautiously, wishing I knew what to say next. "I guess they didn't know much about eating disorders back then."

"Well, things were getting better, but still lacking. Much like today in some regards, but at least we are making progress with understanding mental health issues. Movie stars, top athletes, famous singers are all taking time to deal with their mental health. And that is a good thing!" I nodded, then dared a glance at him. His gaze was still on the ice. "Pity someone didn't speak up for my friend back then, but they didn't know the warning signs. I do." He stared right at me. "I know them well, and so I spoke up. Perhaps that was the wrong call, but I couldn't let it go without saying something. I'm pretty mouthy. Just ask Dieter."

That made me smile a little. "I wish I was mouthier."

"Oh. You'll grow into it, trust me. Give yourself ten or fifteen years, and you'll be up in a bitch's face just like a drag queen." He snapped his fingers, then popped his tongue.

"I'm not mad at you," I said after the sound of a puck hitting the glass faded off. Shaun mouthed sorry at us, then resumed shooting at the net.

"You take some time to decide that. I hope you're not, but you're certainly entitled to be upset with me."

"No, I'm sure. I'm not mad. Thank you. For caring enough to face his wrath."

"Anytime, dumpling. Can I give you a quick hug?"

"Sure."

We embraced carefully, as I had a bagel on my lap, and he was holding a thermos of coffee.

"Okay, phew. I'm all verklempt. I'm going to go touch up my face. Thank you for being so precious, Kenji. And if you ever decide to come back to our sport, call me. I will always have an opening for you."

"Thanks."

Trent patted my shoulder, gathered his belongings, and left me alone with my cold bagel and lukewarm cocoa.

The bagel half was still resting on my lap when Shaun joined me fifteen minutes after Trent's departure. Trent was now on the other side of the ice, reading over something as he waited for his students.

"Hey," Shaun said, hockey stick in hand, duffel bag with his gear over his left shoulder, his cheeks bright red from cold and exertion.

"Hey." I puckered. He bent down to kiss me. His lips were cold.

"So, that looked like a pretty serious conversation with Trent. Everything okay?"

"Yeah, it's okay." It wasn't great. I was conflicted emotionally but knew that I could talk it out with Dr. L Monday after school. That would help me untie the knots Trent's confession had tied up in my chest. Okay seemed like a fitting word. I wasn't mad at the man. Maybe I was mad at Ilya the most for taking out his anger on me instead of speaking his piece to Trent.

"All right then," he said as I handed him the bagel half, then rose. "You sure you don't want this?" He always asked that when I passed food to him. I assumed it was his roundabout way of trying to nudge me into maybe taking another bite without coming right out and asking me to eat more. We were both learning. I nodded. He took two bites, and it was gone. My eyes flared.

"Mockey mabe me mungry," he said around a mouthful of cold bagel.

"Dork," I teased, rose to my toes, and planted a kiss on his cheek. "Let's go." I held out my hand, and he took it, his grip soft, but firm. Perfect.

* * *

The grocery store was empty.

We had been waiting outside for it to open, so we had the place to ourselves, aside from the employees.

"Okay, so what are we looking for?" I asked as we walked through the fresh fruits section, Shaun pushing the cart through the international produce area. "Oh cool, look at this! They have Hokusai. We should find good ingredients for a hot pot. How does that sound?" I picked it up, then showed Shaun, the oblong-shaped head of Chinese cabbage.

"Yeah, cool. Do you like hot pot?" I nodded and got a bright smile. "Then, I'll make you a hot pot you'll never forget."

"This is much more fun than shopping with Dr. L and the group," I said as I placed the cabbage in his cart. "I mean, I get that it's good to learn what to buy for healthy meal prep and all that, but sometimes a man just wants a doughnut, right?"

"If we bought a doughnut, would you eat it?"

"Probably not," I admitted. Shaun gave me that hangdog look that tore me up. "I'm sorry, but I am trying."

"Hey, no, do not apologize. You're doing great. Maybe we could share a doughnut for dessert unless you have something in mind that's more traditional to go with hot pot?"

"Hmm." I walked along, tapping my chin. A worker moved past, pulling a trolley filled with cases of vegetables. "I'm not much of a cook or baker."

"Me either, but they have a wide variety of international foods. Let's take a spin through the bakery section before we leave?"

I bobbed my head. Sweets were a problem for me. I knew half a doughnut, or a muffin top wouldn't add ten pounds, but I was so conditioned to avoid even the crumbs that enjoying a cookie or tart made me anxious. I hated my brain. I longed to be just like the other kids who could swallow junk food down like an anaconda. No lie, I had watched Soren polish off a six-pack of cupcakes in less than three minutes the other day. And all he did afterward was burp and smile with his lips coated in bright yellow frosting.

"Hey, you okay?"

I shook off the envy. "Yep, fine. Just thinking about Soren slamming down those cupcakes at lunch the other day."

Shaun snorted in amusement. "Soren has a thing for his grandma's baking."

"Obviously. So, maybe we can check out the baked goods. Maybe they'll have something that's not so huge and loaded with sugar."

"This is America. Everything is huge and loaded with sugar."

Yeah, true enough. We took our time, choosing some of the healthiest things we could find for our hot pot. We loaded up on the fresh veggies. Besides the cabbage, I tossed in some chrysanthemum greens, yu choy, lotus root, winter squash, fresh mushrooms, and a package of frozen beef meatballs. Into the cart went a burner, a divided hot pot, and a skimmer. A package of chopsticks, some mushroom soup base, and a jar of peppercorn mix to add to the broth. There was a package of sliced ribeye, as well as a deli platter of shrimp. We added some glass noodles, as well, for the starch, and then, visited the bakery department.

"Oh hey, how about this?" Shaun asked, holding up a container holding a fish-shaped cake.

"That's Taiyaki," I explained, rushing over to check out the treat in his hand. "Sobo has the pan for this but hasn't made one in forever. It's really good. It's filled with red bean paste and is all warm."

"Oh cool. Do you want to get it, then, for dessert?"

My thoughts began to wonder—how many calories were in the cake? What about when it was combined with the hot pot meal? Would I feel out of control?

"You can just nibble on the tail," Shaun whispered to me, his words a soft puff of love and caring that helped ease the wave of control loss. "I can put it back, Kenji."

"No, don't. I want to nibble its tail. I just need a second." I felt like a fucking idiot standing in the bakery department as I worked to recall my mindfulness exercises. Breathe in, breathe out, let the anxiety flow away with each exhalation.

Oh hey, hi there anxiety. Thanks for letting me know that I've faced and dealt with a lot today. A fish cake is totally okay. I've got this. Eating small meals is good for me. We can let those worrisome thoughts go now.

Shaun stood at my side, his hand on my lower back, his presence comforting as I worked through the moment. I opened my eyes, looked back over my shoulder, and saw him there beside me.

"You are the strongest person I have ever known," he whispered, stole a chaste kiss, and held the fish cake in the air as if asking if it went into the cart or back on the shelf.

"I'd like some fish cake, please," I whispered just for his ears.

"This is going to be the best two-month anniversary hot pot meal in the history of two-month anniversary hot pot meals."

I was pretty sure he was one thousand percent right.