Olympic Conquest

Lainey - Someone Like Him

The music to my program blares through my headphones. I'm leaning against the wall in a room in the back of the rink as I wait for my time to perform.

I run the program through my head as I listen to the music over and over. I try to concentrate but images of Cory continually pop in my head – his smile, his blue eyes, his warm embrace. Our night together keeps challenging my ability to concentrate.

I'm thankful the team competition is first. It will be a great warm up to the singles programs next week and give me time to refocus on the competition.

I'm the last skater of the night. It's up to me to ensure we win this short program. I'm told I'm up next. I recheck my make-up one more time and take off my track pants and jacket. Sharon and my mom walk me out to the rink. I can see the crowd and can't help but wonder where Cory is sitting.

I skate out onto the ice and look around at the full arena, soaking in this moment that I know I'll remember the rest of my life. My music begins and like an out-of-body experience, I let my brain and muscles do their thing.

I nail every one of my jumps including my triple-triple combinations. My energy is over the top during my footwork and the crowd claps along. I end my program with a layback spin into a Biellmann position – pulling my leg over my head as I spin. I stop and know I've brought the best performance I know how to give to this team competition.

The crowd agrees. They stand and clap and toss flowers and teddy bears onto the ice. I pick up as many as I can and head toward my mom and coach.

We excitedly await for my scores and see if we can topple the Russians. We aren't able to do it. The Russians win the team competition short program. The arena erupts in applause for the Russians. We get determined to take the victory in the long program tomorrow night.

I look around the arena and see no signs of Cory. I text him. No answer. Is he really blowing me off after our wonderful night last night? I'm starting to feel angry I even invited him. I knew he wouldn't come. Why would I think someone like him could think about more than himself?

My phone rings. It's Cory's phone but a woman's voice. "Hello?" I say.

"Hello, this is Cory's mom."

"Oh, hello, this is Lainey. I'm Cory's friend. It's very nice to meet you, I mean hear your voice. You know what I mean. I thought you weren't coming to the Olympics?"

"Lainey...there's been an accident." I don't hear another word of our conversation.

My mom takes me to the hospital where Cory has been admitted. His parents were called immediately and they came out on the first plane. They happened to be in New York City so they were able to get here faster than if they had been in Colorado.

"He has a concussion, a few broken ribs, and he's going to need surgery and physical therapy on his right knee. We're going to take Cory back to the States as soon as we can – probably in a few days. He doesn't want to see anyone, but I think it would be good for you to see him. His coaches told me about you and the connection you've been able to make with Cory over the past few days. Would you try talking to him?" Cory's mom says.

I nod yes and enter the hospital room. Cory lies in bed, staring out his window at the mountain. My heart pumps faster, grateful that Cory's injuries aren't more serious. I have to fight my natural inclination to run to his side and grab him and never let go.

Instead, I quietly make my way to the side of his bed. He doesn't acknowledge my presence. I reach out and try to take his hand. He pulls away.

As an athlete, I understand the agony he is feeling and the desire to retreat from the defeating sympathy of others. As a lover, my heart breaks in two, knowing my touch repulses him at the moment. I stand not knowing what to do or say.

"How are you feeling?" I ask. Cory doesn't say anything. He looks the other way.

"I hear you have to have surgery on your knee?" Silence.

I look outside the window, wondering what I can say to which he will respond.

"We had our team short program competition tonight. We're in second, just behind the Russians." Cory turns over, facing the other direction from me.

I reach out to touch his shoulder, remembering how wonderful it was to lie in the crook of his arm after we made love. I sense that my touch is not welcome. I pull my hand back and wring my hands, not knowing if I should stay or go.

I want to just take him in my arms and tell him that everything will be okay. That I'm glad he is alive – that I love him and will be by his side for eternity. I know we've only had one night together but I feel as if I've known him forever.

I stay another hour in silence. Cory looks tense – even with his back to me. I hear the steady rhythm of his breathing and know he has fallen asleep. I cry softly out of joy that he's alive and frustration and fear that our one night together may be the only night of true happiness between us.

 My mom enters the room and reminds me that I need to get my own rest for the competition tomorrow. I am reluctant to go but I know I can't disappoint my team. They've all made huge sacrifices to get here.

I say my goodbyes to Cory's parents. I apologize for not being more helpful and ask if I can come back again tomorrow. They tell me they would like me to come as often as I can. I ask them to let me know when they decide to leave for the States. They promise to keep me informed. I hug Cory's mom goodbye – feeling a connection to Cory thru her embrace.

Outside the hospital, journalists stand vigil. When my mom and I leave, they pepper us with questions about Cory's condition. We say nothing to the journalists or each other the rest of the ride home.