Dark Night

Back to the set

"Let me guess, Dad didn't know whatever you were asking," Stan said indulgently.

"I asked about the axel, he wasn't sure, but then, he wasn't expecting it."

"Expect the unexpected!" Stan cackled, and I smirked at him.

"You're as much fun to watch as your brother," the host said.

"For different reasons," I sighed. He and Stan grinned.

"So let's get more of those reaction shots."

"I always look like a dodo," I grumbled. "But that's ok, I'm used to it." A few seconds of me looking amazed, then calculating.

"This was during the combination with the quad-triple-triple." the host said. "What were you thinking?"

"That I was amazed he had the speed for all those rotations. He was practically standing still when he finished. But he was having such a good skate, especially after the surprise axel, that I figured that he'd want to give everything he had." Stan nodded. The screen split to show Stan's performance on one side and me. They showed the third combo.

"Why are you frowning?"

"That's where he hurt himself," I stated factually. The host looked to Stan, who nodded. Then the footwork sequence and the camel, where I frowned and winced. "You can tell something's wrong. And after the last jump, I don't know how he finished the program. Adrenaline and determination, probably." Stan snickered.

"It's embarrassing how well she knows me."

The final shot of Stan as the music comes to a triumphant end and my reaction; somewhere along the way I crept off my seat and was crouched at the railing, clenching the top, elbows hanging over, my chin resting on the top. I look ridiculous. Then I let go of the railing and jumped to my feet enthusiastically, clapping and cheering, and, oh no, doing a dorky victory dance that I do not remember doing.  Damn. My professors could see this. Stan guffawed, and I threw an elbow.

"Hey!" he protested. "I'm  injured here!"

"It's your... what, foot? Ankle? Not your ribs," I retorted as he rubbed his side.

"You've got bony elbows," he complained. The host made an attempt to get the interview back on track. And footage, finally, of our reactions when his score was announced. Unsurprisingly, I was highly enthusiastic although mercifully there was no interpretive dance component here. Stan was fiercely triumphant but a lot less mobile. Mikhal gave him a hand up and a shoulder to lean on as he made his way over to the seating area for the top three skaters.

"So what is the nature of your injury, Starry? Do you know?" The amusement drops off my brother's face immediately.

"I had a couple of stress fractures in my foot before the competition; that landing completed one of them, then everything started hurting more as muscles tightened in reaction, and that last lutz, I couldn't help landing weird, somehow the landing messed up my ankle. There was an x-ray that revealed the broken bone in my foot and later there will be additional tests on the ankle. It's soft tissue damage."

"Oh, Stan," I sighed, and took his hand. His amateur career had been finished tonight. The interviewer asked about that.

"What does that mean for the rest of the year?"

"Worlds are at the end of next month," Stan said after a moment. "As much as I would love to defend my title, right now I'm highly doubtful that I'll be able to." His hand squashed my fingers. Ow. I eased my hand away.

"I asked Starry about this earlier, but what are your thoughts about not only his performance at these Olympics, but also his career, looking back, Delia?"

"Well, now I'm really amazed that he was able to finish the program," I said, delicately touching the shining gold medal around his neck. "But I've never questioned his dedication to his sport. His improvement from last Olympics to this one has been extraordinary. He's gone from being just a jumping machine to a really mature performance, where his expression really adds content to kind of an abstract performance. It's really a pleasure to see him skate. He's absolutely pushed the boundaries of what is possible for men's figure skating. I know that everybody here has worked really hard for years for the privilege of representing their countries, but Stan's the one I've watched and I know what he's done and given up for his skating. I'm so proud of him and everything he's achieved. And now he'll be embarking on a new set of challenges. I'm excited to see what he can accomplish next."

"Speaking of that, Starry, what are your plans now that you're closing in on the end of a remarkable skating career?"

"Over the past few years, I've been attending Duke's Crossing Community College, taking a class or two each semester. I've applied to be a transfer student, so I'm waiting for admissions decisions. I want to be a sports psychologist. And in the short term, in June, Delia's graduating from UCLA with her bachelors, so I've got that to look forward to. I've got to think of something good for a present. She's a great mode of academic discipline, and I hope I can do half as well."

Aw.

"Congratulations, Delia," the host said. "What are you studying, and what do you hope to do next?"

"I'm studying climate change, and my goal is to go to grad school so that I'm in a better position to study it more closely and make a difference."

"See? She's going to change the world," Stan said, smiling at me.

"Thanks for dropping by the studio, Starry, congratulations on your spectacular victory. It's nice to see you again, Delia," the host said, standing up and coming over to shake our hands.

"Thanks for having us," Stan said, letting me help pull him to his feet. Well, foot.  The PA came over with his crutches and Stan sighed. "It's only a couple hundred feet back to the athlete's village, but seems like more." I walked slowly off the set with him, where we got a nice surprise. In the lobby, Mikhal and Marc waited with a wheelchair.

"La belle Knight," Marc said, kissing my cheek. "Always a pleasure. We thought we'd give Stan a lift; it's getting slippery out there. Might need two of us."

"Thank God," Stan said, his face drawn with fatigue and pain. "I'm done in, and there's still press to do."

"They've been grouped together and were surprisingly understanding," Mikhal said briskly as he helped ease Stan into the chair and fixed the foot support thingies. "Furthermore, you can have a little nap first, the first interview is in an hour." I walked out with the three men; there were workers shoveling the new snow as we spoke,  but there were slippery patches and some ridges of snow to negotiate. I said goodnight--good morning?--and went to catch a taxi. On the way back to the hotel, I checked email. It was still pretty early for my friends to have seen the performance--the competition had been over around 10 pm here, which would have been about 6 am back home--because most of them had wanted to watch it during the Olympics broadcast. I hadn't checked email since I got here and there was a pile of it. I opened a few that looked official, then pulled up to the hotel. Yawning but excited, I took the note off Grandpa's door and went to my room, washed the makeup off, and went to sleep.