Alone

Chapter 3

"I'm ready," said the girl, piping up from her place on the bench. She held out the skates with outstretched arms, and Jayne took them from her, smiled at Chris, and went to the sharpening machine to prepare the skates for use.

"Careful with that thing," Chris laughed; Jayne had almost been a little clumsy, and he'd always joked about letting Jayne near any sort of machinery or mechanical object, whether it be a washing machine, a lawn-mower, or even a car.

"Be quiet," Jayne admonished jokingly, "I'm a pro!"

They chuckled as Jayne strapped on a pair of heavy-duty goggles and set to work on the blades. It took her a few minutes, and finally the skates were ready. As she removed the eye-wear, she folded the laces up neatly into the boots and placed them into a box, closing the lid with tender care and remembering what it was like to take hold of her first ever pair of boots, as a young girl all those years ago.

"There you go," she smiled, handing the girl the box with care.

"How much are they?" asked the girl, looking up with her large, shy eyes.

"How much have you got?"

"Twenty pounds," she said.

"I'll give them to you for ten."

"Thank you!" the girl beamed, handing over a crumpled twenty-pound note from her pocket.

Jayne smiled, and opened the cash register to get the girl her change.

"You enjoy yourself," she said, handing over the money, "Keep practicing, and never give up."

"I will!" beamed the girl, her voice brimming with excitement and her little face barely able to keep its composure, "I'm going to be the best skater ever!"

Chris reached out a hand and patted the girl on the head as she left the store with the box proudly in her arms.

"I remember those days," he said nostalgically, watching the door close again.

"When everything was so new," sighed Jayne, "and we had no idea what kind of greatness we were going find."

"Yeah," said Chris, turning to face Jayne, "All those nights we spent practicing, all that hard work and aching, it was all so worth it."

"It was."

They stared at each other yet again, and it was Jayne who finally snapped herself out of it first.

"So," she said, blinking, "When do you want to go skating?"

"Whenever," smiled Chris, "Whenever's good for you."

"Okay, how about Monday afternoon?"

"Sounds great."

"3pm?"

"Perfect."

"I'll try to be there on time," said Jayne, matter-of-factly.

"I'll get there for 3:30 then, so I'm not waiting around," Chris laughed, and Jayne reached out and punched him gently in the arm.

"Ow!" he said, recoiling and rubbing his bicep. "All these years apart and you still find it in your heart to abuse me!"
"Oh, be quiet," Jayne said in a joking tone, and they said their brief goodbyes as Chris left the store and Jayne found herself alone once more. As she put the rejected skates back on the shelves and neatened the place up again, she found her pulse quickening at the very thought of skating with Chris again. It had been so many years, and she wondered whether they would still have it – that connection they'd always displayed on the ice together. The sense of each other's rhythm, the feeling of knowing what the other person is going to do before they've even done it. That special bond that was developed and cultivated after hundreds of hours spent practising together in the middle of the night, the only time they were both available at the same time and didn't have to worry about other skaters on the rink. Would that special bond still be there, or would she pay the price for these last few years of neglect, and fall flat on her face during the simplest of moves? Maybe they could remember a routine, skate the Bolero again. Jayne ran through the sequences of moves in her head to see if she could still recall the intricate footwork and body movements. Soon she found herself moving around the store, closing her eyes and pretending she was in Chris' arms, sweeping her feet as if on ice, and ignoring the fact that she felt crazy.

She reached the final beat of Ravel's Bolero in her head, and instead of collapsing on to the ground she slumped down on to the bench, breathing heavily and feeling a sense of accomplishment at being able to remember all those steps. She found herself hoping that Chris would be willing to revisit that routine with her. It was a special routine for both of them; the routine that won them those perfect 6.0s and that gold medal at the 1984 Olympics; a routine that they performed together over a thousand times, and was something of a signature trademark for the both of them. How wonderful it would be to skate it again, even if they made mistakes and weren't quite as flexible and flamboyant as they were in their youth.