Dark Night

Unexpected changes

"How do you know all that?"

I looked away. "I used to want to understand what my brother was into. It's not like I could contribute anything, but I wanted to be ready to contribute. I learned some anatomy, watched hours of YouTube videos, looked into the physics."

"The physics?"

"Yeah, factors that affect skaters. Gravity's a biggie, of course, but it's a constant. For a jump, for example, you include gravity, angular momentum, force, vertical velocity, rotational speed, moment of inertia, force in the landing." John stared at me, so I tried to elaborate. "These are the gross forces. Like force equals mass times acceleration, right? A skater who weighs 135 pounds can be hitting the ice after a quad with over half a ton of weight because you have to use so much speed and power. Power equals force times velocity. That's why your feet, ankles, and knees hurt so much when you jump a lot. And there are a lot of smaller factors, a lot of them related to inertia; how fast you get your arms into position and what that position is. The faster and harder you have to wrap your arms, the more strain that's put on them and why your shoulders can hurt. Every little thing can affect your physics. Is your weight in the perfect spot, or are you rolling out on your edge even slightly? What are your arms doing? Are your abs strong enough to keep you up and turning; there's a lot of strain on them and thus on where the muscles attach to bone. I don't even think there are ways to calculate everything that's going on. There are reasons why figure skaters used to be able to compete in more than one Olympics, and that's mainly because they weren't pushing their bodies so hard. This is also a significant factor in why ice dancers last so much longer."

John stared at me. "I've had coaches that haven't put that much study in. Mikhal's careful about limiting the jumping, but I've never heard that much analysis." I shrugged.

"I could be wrong, especially about how judges judge, but based on my studies, I'm correct or at least on the right track about a lot of it. You can get reasons and rationales for the changes in scoring from the association, they're there to promote the sport, and they're also watching what gets people excited about it, but they may not be willing to articulate everything, and there are motives behind it all. Soviet/Russian skaters are historically the most lyrical and artistic, which is why that score continues to have importance. The US is more known for its athletic ability. But everyone wants their skaters to win. If you want to win, you should add some snazziness to your routine."

"Huh," the normally articulate John said, then turned around when Mr Tiller started talking about Mt. St. Helens.

Things went along smoothly for the rest of the day and the next. When I got home from the library on Wednesday, I was surprised to see Mom and Dad waiting for me at the kitchen table. "Delia, do you have a moment?" Mom asked. Asked. That was nice. I put my coat away, dropped my backpack by the hall so I could grab it on the way to my room, and went into the kitchen, cautiously taking a seat.

"I found out that my health insurance has a limited benefit for counseling," Dad said. His was the better insurance; it covered more and better, so my brother was on that one. I was on Mom's, being healthy and less prone to breakage. "Today Mom and I went to our first session at lunch." My eyebrows rose. "One of the things that the counsellor suggested was that we use notebooks" he held up a spiral-bound "to note what you have to say. You do these info-dumps, sweetie, and I can't keep track of it. Like when you told us what Stan said. It got caught up in your other thoughts and I couldn't keep track of it all. It would also help if you talked to us when you have a problem, rather than saving it all up."

"You guys don't like to hear what I have to say now." I pointed out. "You're not going to like it any more if it comes out in drips."

"No, nobody likes to hear how royally they've screwed up," Mom spoke up. "But you're right, Delia. We are the parents, and we are responsible for what we have and haven't done. We need to make things better for you. And it won't be smooth sailing. As you point out, it took us a long time to get to this state, and it won't be unravelled easily. But for starters, I can tell you, in complete honesty, that I'm sorry for what I've done. I never intended to marginalize you or make you feel like you didn't matter, but that's what I've done. What's happened. And also for the record, your dad was correct in telling you that we'd always intended to have two kids. You came along sooner than expected, we weren't unprotected, but birth control isn't perfect. So when it comes time for you to protect yourself, be sure that whatever you choose is reliable, effective, and that you can remember to use it exactly as prescribed. You have an amazing future ahead of you, and you don't want to jeopardize that before you're ready for a family." My eyebrows rose at this diversion, and Dad looked uncomfortable. "But we were ready for a family, and I can't tell you how excited I was when we got the news, and especially when we found out that you were a girl. You were never unwanted and we never considered you an accident."

"You always were precocious," Dad muttered. "I also want to apologize for not giving you the attention you deserve. I've done a lot wrong, but I'm hoping that you can forgive me."

I stared at them  for a moment. "You're just saying that because I'll be picking out your home when you get old." I enjoyed the shock and appalled expressions on their faces for a moment, then smiled.

"Jesus, Delia," Dad said, wiping his brow. "Thank god I'm not fifty yet. I still have time to reform." He smiled at me, and I returned it. Seeing this, Mom smiled too.

"I would also like to ask for your forgiveness, Delia. It would mean a lot to me," she said.

I drew patterns on the table. "I'm not ready to forgive anybody yet." I didn't look up.

"Ok. May I ask why?" Dad said after a moment, and he didn't sound mad, just a little puzzled. I risked a glance up and around.

"Because you haven't earned it," I said softly. "I hear good intentions. But I worry that in a couple of months your willingness to work on this thing will wear off and I'll be back to square one. And if I forgive you just to make you happy, I'm stuck with all this anger and nowhere to put it. I"m tired of putting others first. I have to put myself first for once, because nobody else will do it."

"That's fair," Mom said after a charged silence. "We need to build your trust in us." She and Dad exchanged a look.

"In return, we'd like to ask you for something,"  Dad said. I looked at him. "The therapist we're seeing says that girls are most likely to hurt themselves rather than others if things get bad enough. If you feel that urge, I'd like for you to come talk first, if not us, then Grandpa or the counselor at your school."

I was shocked, then I shook my head in disbelief. "If I wanted to cut or do something stupid, I would have done it by now," I said impatiently. "If I'm patient, all I have to do is last through high school, which isn't that long now, and then I can escape. I'm not going to screw that up now."

"Ok,' Dad said carefully. "But just in case things change."

"Yeah, ok," I said, and they relaxed a little.

"We got a call from Grandpa just before you came home," Mom said, in a change of subject. I perked up. "Things are going really well," she said. "The seller is moving out of state and is open to closing sooner, so he's going to be back next week. The moving company won't be delivering his things for a little over two weeks, so he's got time to paint, make a few improvements."

"Yay!" I said.