32. Mer - Practice Ice: 10 years ago

After completing my usual rituals before taking the ice– pacing the length of the rink and then doing a couple off-ice jumps to get my muscles moving– I laced up my skates for our last practice session before the competition started tomorrow.

The men’s short programs were just getting started in the stadium, so most of the press and spectators were watching that ice.

Andy and I ran through our individual warm-ups first– both throwing waltz jumps and moving up through the jumps at our own pace. About five minutes in, Iryna and Vlad made a wrap-it-up motion, calling us to the boards.

“Alright, let’s move through the first leg of the program, ya?” Vlad told us.

Iryan, who was bundled up in her Team USA jacket, gave us a rigid nod.

Without talking, Andy and I grasped hands and stroked away from them. We moved into back crossovers, rounding the boards that read US FIGURE SKATING NATIONALS 2014.

I moved into Andy, his hands grasped my waist, and then I was airborne, moving through the lift.

I floated above his shoulders, through the cold air, giving me a perfect view of the mostly empty rink.

But right as we were supposed to move into our last position, something went wrong. Horribly wrong.

One second, I was floating above the rest of the world.

The next second, panic ricocheted through my body as I flew straight at the ice with no way of saving myself.

My first thought when I opened my eyes and stared up at the old metal rafters was that I was lucky. That could’ve ended a lot worse. My elbow got a bit banged up, but other than that, I was somehow okay.

“Mer? You good? Sorry, my blade! My blade got caught by an edge. Mer?” Andy’s voice sounded like it was coming from underwater and my vision was graying out in the corners.

I went to move, and that’s when the pain slammed into me, stealing my breath.

Just sitting up made a scream rip from my throat.

And then I saw it.

My knee. My knee was…

Panic gripped my chest and my breathing went ragged.

This was a nightmare. I was just… I was just sleeping. This didn’t just happen. No.

“You’re fine,” Andy said forcefully, crouching near me, his ice cold blue eyes wide as saucers. “Just take a breather. We can still do this. Breathe and get up. C’mon, Mer.”

Was he insane? Was he in shock? My entire body trembled from the pain, the shock, the fear. Because my knee was… it was mangled.

“C’mon, we can do this,” Andy said. His hand went to my kneecap and a piece actually moved. My bloodcurdling scream filled the frigid air before black seeped into my vision, taking me out.

_________

The next couple hours came in blurry snapshots.

My vision swam as they strapped me to a stretcher. They moved my leg and I screamed out in pain. A woman was saying words to me, but I couldn’t understand anything. I couldn't hear anything. The pain consumed all of my senses until everything went black again.

When my eyes opened next, I had to blink hard against starch white brightness. I was being wheeled through a hospital hallway. Andy was at my side. I tried like hell to push him away, but my arms felt like they were being weighed down by lead. I tried to tell him to stay away from me, but everyone just flurried around me, and then I was out again.

The next time I awoke, I was in a room. My eyelids were just so heavy that I couldn’t keep them open. People were talking, but I couldn’t make out who they were or what they were saying. I honestly didn’t care. I just wanted to sleep.

Later that night, my brain was foggy with confusion. Taking stock of my body, a bunch of wires were attached to my arm, my elbow was bandaged, and my leg was strapped up so I couldn’t move it. The tears were immediate. Everything I worked for… It was all gone. I was so close. It was a sure bet. We were supposed to be medaling tomorrow.

“Oh good, you’re up.”

Fear skated down my spine.

“Get out,” I whispered, wiping my face with the back of my hand.

He didn’t listen. He came closer, a sad smirk on his face. “How ya feelin’?” Andy asked.

My body seized up, causing a shot of pain through my leg. “Don’t touch me.”

His smirk dropped. “I tripped Mer, I caught a bad edge.”

I knew that. I wasn’t angry about that. I was angry about what happened after– how he urged me to get up, how he moved a piece of my kneecap. My breathing went ragged just thinking about it. “Please leave. I want to be alone.”

Sticking his hands in his pockets, he just scoffed before sitting on the edge of my bed.

Anger and desperation mixed with my tears. “Get out. Please,” I tried, “Just get out. I want to be alone.”

He just smirked at me and I wanted to scream. He went to look at my knee and my body jolted, making pain shoot through me. My eyes slammed shut to handle the hurt.

“Go away!” I screamed at him, my body trembling. I couldn’t take it anymore.

A nurse finally rushed in to see what was happening.

“I don’t want him here,” I cried. “Please. Please listen to me.” His figure blurred with tears. “Just leave me alone,” I begged.

________

The next morning, I stared at the ceiling in shock. All my dreams were just… gone. Shattered, like my fucking knee. All the years of hard work, all the time, all the money, all the sacrifices my family made… It was all for nothing.

Pain pounded in my leg and in my head, but I didn't call a nurse. I wanted to feel the pain. I wanted to punish myself.

And I just wanted Colt.

A voice in the back of my head yelled at me that he was mad at me, but he’d come. We had a fight, but that didn’t mean we didn’t love each other. Couples had fights all the time.

And he was right about everything. I realized it the day after he left. I did need help.

The only reason I wasn’t shipped off to rehab was because it was an Olympic year. My dreams were almost coming true. Instead of rehab, I was sent to multiple therapists a day, which made me feel more guilty because that was expensive too

My mom had to step back in and control everything like I was a child again. At first, I was angry. By calling her, Colt basically stripped me of my independence. But after the anger came a rush of intense relief. Because I needed help.

I wished I could pinpoint the moment when eating became such a battle. I wished I could pinpoint the moment I started masking my pain to the point of numbness. But I couldn’t. The last year had been one slow downhill slide to this point.

When Andy saw me in the kitchen slowly forcing myself to eat a bowl of oatmeal while my mom folded laundry, he started lecturing me on calorie intake and asked if I wanted a shake.

“No, I think she’s had enough of those,” my mom snapped, arching a challenging eyebrow at him and then giving me a hard look.

It was a moment of clarity.

Colt had been right about him, too.

Andy didn’t have my best interest in mind.

He had gold in mind, and that’s it.

Over the next couple weeks, Andy and I were in constant petty fights– over what I was eating, over how I was skating, over every little misstep. He became aggressive. The way he’d yell down at me until he was red in the face was not okay. I knew this was his way of dealing with his own nerves, but I was unwilling to be his punching bag, so I yelled right back up to him.

Our coaches had to step between us multiple times, telling us we just had to make the national team, then we could have a mediated sit down and sort everything out. But for the next couple weeks, we had to shut up and work together.

I wanted to call up Colt every day, but I stopped myself. Because I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t back to being myself yet. I was struggling. It took all my brain power just to make it through the day without falling back into the bad habits I developed. So he was right about that too– I needed a minute to focus on just myself so I could fully recover. I was embarrassed by how far I’d fallen and how long I ignored him about everything. He said he loved me and to call when I was ready. I trusted him.

But now that I was here in this hospital bed, all I wanted was to hear his voice. Nothing else mattered.

My phone was in my skate bag, which was sitting discarded in the corner of the room. I had to call a nurse to get it for me.

As soon as I held my phone, my body sagged in relief. I’d call him and he’d share in this grief with me, just like we’d shared every other emotion with each other over the last four years. He’d reassure me that everything would be okay, just like everyone else around here had been telling me, but when it came from him, maybe I’d actually be able to believe it.

But when I tried to call him, I didn’t even get a dial tone. A loud, high-pitched noise went off on the other end, telling me I was blocked.

My face cracked. What the hell? Pulling my phone away from my ear, I studied it for a minute, wondering if it didn’t have service or something. I turned it off, then back on again before calling again, but the same thing happened.

I tried calling a different number and immediately got a dial tone. So it wasn’t that my phone was broken…

Colt… blocked me?

My stomach sank like a rock.

My mind reeled back to the last time I talked to him, to our fight.

I said terrible, horrible things to him when I was crying that night. That I blamed him, that I hated him, that I never wanted to see him again.

I didn’t mean any of it.

He had to know I didn't mean it.

He said he loved me, but was that before or after I said all of that?

My eyes slammed shut as I tried to sift through that night, but everything was muddled.

Oh God…

No…

This couldn’t be real.

It felt like I was dumped upside down into a different, horrible reality. One where I couldn’t walk for months. One where I couldn’t talk to Colt. I didn’t know which was worse.

Now the tears started for an entirely different reason.

Did I lose him?

Was that it?

Were we really over?

_________

The next few days were a blur of crying.

When the doctors came in the room to talk over a plan of how to get me back on my feet, I couldn’t even listen to them because my mind was consumed with regret and unending pain.

To make matters worse, Andy walked in again.

He held his hands up in innocence. “I’m only here to say goodbye before I head back to Michigan.”

I ground my back teeth so hard they could crack. “I don’t want you here.”

“So chase me out,” he snapped.

Tears pricked the back of my eyes, but I wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

“I’m sorry.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I didn’t mean that, you know how I say things when I’m angry.”

Oh I did know, and I was sick of it. I just glared at him, wanting him to leave.

“I don’t know how I became the bad guy,” he said helplessly.

“Oh, I don’t know, Andy. The pills. The overtraining. The fucking shakes. That was so fucked up. I never should’ve listened to you.”

“We almost had it,” he snapped, his blue eyes furious. “And we could have it all again if you stop crying. I’m not going to sugarcoat it for you. You need to get over that boy and focus on fucking walking again, Meredith. He’s a fucking distraction.”

I gasped. “No, he’s not. Don’t you ever–”

He let out a pathetic laugh. “They’re saying you’re heartbroken. Poor Mer.” He pouted his lip out, taunting me.

“Shut up,” I seethed.

“I won’t. Because you’re not even listening to what the doctors are telling you, are you?”

No, I wasn’t. Because I didn’t care anymore.

“You’re not. You’re crying over a fucking boy. It’s pathetic. Stop being pathetic and get mad. Come back from this. We can do this again.”

No, I was never doing this with him ever again. I wanted him to stop twisting my head up and get out of my fucking room.

“Get out,” I whispered.

“I’m just trying to help, you–”

“Get out!” I screamed, jerking my body and causing more pain. “Get out right now!”

The nurses swarmed in and pushed him away.

As soon as I was alone, I cried more.

I wished I could erase all the pain.

I wished I never met him.

Any of them.