For the Love of Skating Read online

  For The Love Of Skating

  Madeline Fay

  Contents

  Untitled

  Copyright @ 2020 Madeline Fay

  Published by Madeline Fay

  Prologue

  1. Kat

  2. Granger

  3. Kat

  4. Granger

  5. Kat

  6. Kat

  7. Granger

  8. Kat

  9. Granger

  10. Kat

  11. Granger

  12. Kat

  13. Granger

  14. Kat

  15. Granger

  16. Kat

  17. Granger

  18. Kat

  19. Granger

  20. Kat

  21. Kat

  22. Granger

  23. Kat

  24. Granger

  25. Kat

  26. Granger

  27. Kat

  28. Granger

  29. Kat

  Six Months Later

  Stalking links for Madeline Fay

  Untitled

  For The Love Of Skating

  Copyright @ 2020 Madeline Fay

  For the Love of Skating

  First publication: June 20th, 2020

  Cover design paperback by Victoria Schaefer of EVE’s Garden of Eden

  Editing by Bookish Dreams Editing

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work, in whole or in part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Madeline Fay

  The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of a copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by fines and federal imprisonment.

  Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in, or encourage, the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Describe your perfect date.

  That’s a tough one.

  I’d have to say April 25th.

  Because it’s not too hot and not too cold.

  All you need is a light jacket.

  Prologue

  Beep.

  Beep.

  A long pause between each heartbeat has me jumping out of the reclining hospital chair in a rush and banging my shin against the lowered bed railing. My frantic blurry eyes are searching for the monitor in the small, cold sanitized room. I quickly rub away the sleep from my tired eyes as my legs carry me over in a dazed state to the corner of the room behind her bedside table to check her heartbeat rhythm.

  Beep…beep…beep.

  The heartbeats are spreading further apart every few seconds, and my stomach drops as the reality that this is happening sets in. I know what this means, but I can’t quite accept it. I’m not going to! Everything is going to change.

  I can feel her staring at my hunched shoulders from behind, so I relax them with a deep breath for her benefit and swirl around to face her while trying to give her a smile. She always said my smile is made of sunshine and brightens up any room. The moment I make eye contact, the tears I’m desperately trying to hold back fill my eyes to the brim. As each tear splashes on the cold tiled floors, I feel a bit of my heart slip away with them. She holds her arms out to me, and a choked sob escapes me as I run to her bedside. As I climb in, I notice her breathing is shallow and weak, but she has the strength to hold me as tight as she can in her frail arms. We wrap our arms around each other and lie side by side while we say our last goodbyes. I’m not ready, but the choice was taken away from us. My head tucks under her chin as I attempt to hide my crying, but surely, she feels my tears splash against her thin, fragile body. Her finger hooks under my chin to bring my gaze up to her, and she offers a watery smile. She has no fear in her eyes, only acceptance of what’s happening. She slides her weak hand through my blonde locks and cups my cheek, smoothing away the tears that keep trailing down my face.

  “There she is. My sweet Kat. I’m here, I’m always going to be right here for you,” she croaks out while placing her hand over my heart. I sob uncontrollably, gasping for each breath.

  “Mom, please.” I’m not sure who I’m really begging to. Maybe to her to not give up, or for God to let her stay. I need her here with me always.

  A sad tender smile over takes her face as her eyes drift shut, then she laces our hands together and places them between us.

  “Don’t stop going after your dreams, sweet girl, and know I’m by your side every step of the way. I love you,” she rasps out in a soft whisper that I barely hear.

  I don’t know how long we lie there side by side—it could be minutes or hours—but eventually, the monitor slows until I can’t hear her heartbeats any longer. I climb off the bed on weak, shaking legs and bend down to kiss her forehead one last time with my tears splashing on her face.

  “I love you, mom. ” My voice comes out choked, and I only look back once more before stepping towards the door that leads out into the dimly lit hallway. As Nurse Angie walks by, I reach my hand out to stop her. She’s been my mom’s nurse for the past six months, and she’ll have to know. She made sure she was comfortable and gave me the peace of being with Mom in her final moments.

  “Have you seen my father?” My voice is barely there, a catch in the breeze among the quiet hallway.

  With an expression full of pity around her crinkled eyes and sadness impressed on her lips, she shakes her head no. I wrap my arms around myself and nod back before croaking out, “My mom—” I can’t say she’s gone, because I’m unable to speak past the lump in my throat.

  “My condolences, Miss Whitmore. I’ll handle everything and take care of her for you. I’m sorry for your loss,” she says with her hand on my shoulder, squeezing lightly before letting go. I offer a watery smile that slips and a quiet thank you before turning around, feeling her pitying gaze follow my retreating form.

  As I near the hospital doors to wait for the limo to pull up, I’m beginning to realize I’ve never felt more alone, and I can’t help wondering where my father is. He should’ve been here in her final moments.

  Three weeks later

  The landscape of the city below is bright and still moving with the hustle of Boston life, but everything seems to have lost color for me, and I’m really not seeing it at all. I’ve been sitting at the dining table for hours, looking out the windows that overlook the night sky of the city below. With my knees pressed to my chest, I wrap my arms around them to pretend I’m still gripping onto life and not falling apart. A sharp pain stabs into my clenched fist, and the pressure releases when I open my palm slowly to see I’m still holding onto Mom’s favorite silver necklace. When she was deep in thought, she used to fiddle with it, her brow wrinkled. It holds a single light blue crystal in the middle of a tiny silver feather, and she once told me this necklace reminds her that anything can be free if you only let go. Mom gave this necklace to me weeks before she passed away, but I haven’t had the courage to put it on, because the thought of ever losing it, losing the one last piece of her, will shatter me. It’s all I have left. My fingers idly play with it as I begin to wonder when my father will make an appearance from the office he’s locked himself in. When I went to check on him after the funeral, the one he didn’t show up to, the disaster of the room and the sight of him made me
feel like I was staring at a stranger. With empty liquor bottles of scotch to keep him company, he bellowed for me to leave him alone, and a shattering of a glass hitting the door after I closed it had me racing to get away as if the pits of hell were chasing me. He didn’t show up to her burial either, leaving me to stand alone by my mother's grave as they lowered her down, and I’ll never forgive him for that. Mom came from old money, a rich family, but none of her lasting relatives showed. It was just me. I stood in the rain for what seemed like hours, wondering if life would ever start moving again.

  A stench of strong alcohol hits my nose at the same time Father comes stumbling into the dining room and starts to rage behind me in a yelling fit. Jumping in surprise from my seat, I spin around and cringe at the sight of him. Gone is the father I thought I once knew, and in the place of him is a monster. He hasn’t handled her death very well, seeking answers at the bottom of the bottle and taking his rage out on me every time he sees me. His nostrils flare when he notices what I’m holding in my hand. He snatches Mom’s necklace out of my grip, leaving a burning sensation on my palm from the metal as it scrapes me, all the while sneering down at me with his face turning a purple shade. A slap echoes around the room, and all I can do is stare in stunned silence as I cup my throbbing cheek.

  “You own nothing of your mother’s belongings, and you never will. It should have been mine… What are you staring at? I can’t stand the sight of you! I didn't want children, you know, but she did. I gave her that, and now she's gone, leaving you here with me. It should have been you, not her! Go to your room, you little bitch!” He spits as he shouts inches from my face, spittle flying everywhere as I retreat back a step and rush around him under his swinging arm before he can hit me again. My bedroom door slams behind me as I breathe heavily while clenching and unclenching my fist from the absence of her necklace. Everything was taken from me, and my mind locks away a little bit at a time, until I feel like I have nothing else to give. Sliding down to the floor with my back against the door, I sob my heart out from loss and despair. I’ve been alone since the day mom passed away, but nothing could have prepared me just how alone I truly am now.

  1

  Kat

  Seven years later

  The slamming of the arena doors behind me echoes around the quiet ice rink, making me jump like a skittish rabbit. I glance around warily before heading over to the rows of benches. The banner of the Boston University hockey team hangs like a beacon by the set of doors that leads onto the smooth ice. I’m really not supposed to be here. If anyone catches me skating on the university rink, I’ll be in deep trouble. It’s worth it though. I go to sit down on the bleachers, where hundreds of fans sit each home game, cheering for our university hockey jocks. My movements are fast as I tug off my winter boots, shaking the excess snow off before setting them next to my bookbag. The pain in my chest always goes away when I’m on the smooth, cold ice. Taking out my favorite long, fuzzy socks, I slip them over the black yoga pants that cling to my legs like a second coat of skin. At least my toes will stay warm. I hate having cold feet, even if I’m used to the feeling. I’m not even going to bother changing before skating, since I’m heading home after to change into something warmer before classes start at eight AM. I notice my reflection on the glass surrounding the rink, and a girl with pink hair and sad eyes glances back. Her skating outfit is plain and simple, no sparkles and glitter for this girl. I’d rather blend in than stand out any day. The long-sleeved maroon shirt and yoga pants help my movements become more flexible, plus I won’t sweat too much in the lightweight clothes after skating my butt off on the ice. Placing my hands on my knees, I close my eyes and take a few seconds to gather myself into a calm state. Outside those arena doors is a different Kat, one who has to deal with the harsh life that’s thrown at her constantly. But in here, I’m someone else. I practice the deep breathing so my fucked up life doesn’t take over while I’m skating. This is my time, no one else’s.

  I’m free to be here, lost in my own little world.

  My cheeks puff as I blow out a gush of air from my mouth in frustration. Images of last week creep to the surface, and I can hear his voice whisper through my head.

  “You good for nothing piece of shit, Kathleen. Don’t you walk away from me!” he yells in a slurred voice as I slam the front door shut and take off at a jog so he can’t catch me as he chases me out of the house. He won’t scream outside, because God forbid the posh, rich neighbors see him untidy and drunk. Only a few more words reach my ears. “Kathleen…get your…ass…” The rest is drowned out as I hail a cab. My eyes squeeze tighter and I clench my fists as my fingernails dig in to the point of pain, grounding me.

  He’s not here, he is not here! I tell myself, until it sticks and my breathing slows.

  “Hey, Kat! You have about an hour before I have to clean the ice again. The boys start showing up for practice at six this morning. Enjoy,” Bob shouts from the other side of the bleachers, standing at the end with a sleepy smile.

  The startled scream I let loose echoes around the empty rink. He showed up when I was lost in my memories and scared the crap out of me. My hands fly to my chest, my heart fluttering like crazy. I try to plaster on my fake smile to appear somewhat normal, but a snort leaves my mouth, it can’t be contained. What the heck is normal? My life is far from normal.

  “Thanks, Bob. I won’t be too long. You’re the man!” My voice echoes as I shout back to him, responding in what I hope is a cheerful voice.

  Bob has been taking care of the university ice rink for so long, his Zamboni is practically his baby. He may be getting up there in age, but he has the spirit of a kid. He’s a kind old man that lets me skate here when no one is around and pretends to look the other way. Maybe he can see the shadows in my eyes, but he’s kind enough to not pry, and it makes me wonder if that’s why he lets me into the arena. With a chuckle and hacking cough, he walks away into the shadows, heading back to his maintenance office.

  I shove my feet into my freshly sharpened skates and tie them extra tight, to the point that they dig into my calves. The slight pain helps ground me, and I’m a little more focused with each breath. I slowly stand and walk my way over to the boards, pushing the door open. My feet don’t wobble on the cement ground. After years of figure skating, it’s as natural as walking in tennis shoes for me. I take a deep inhale, breathing in the frigid cold air, and exhale with a puff of icy smoke through my nostrils.

  The lights are dim, the perfect lighting for how I skate. I’ve come to realize I don’t like the spotlight after Mom’s passing. For the last few years, I’ve been sticking to the shadows, trying to blend in as much as possible as I stay away from crowds of people. I don’t like anyone watching me skate across the ice, because it’s for me to get lost in the moment. Figure skating for an audience hasn’t meant as much to me since Mom passed away from cancer when I was fourteen. I stopped skating professionally and started skating more to connect with Mom, as it helps me escape my fucked up world. Every time I’m out on the ice alone, I still feel her presence. It’s another reason why I skate so early in the morning, because it’s empty and perfectly silent, except for Bob of course.

  Grabbing the edges of the open door, I tuck my elbows in as I step onto the ice before pushing off to glide over the smooth surface. It sounds like I’m chipping away at the ice beneath my skates with each glide of my feet, and the freezing air frosts on my lips. Deciding on a warm-up, I move my feet left and right, picking up speed as I circle the rink. As my music starts playing over the speakers, a hint of a smile overtakes my face. Bob knows by now what type of tunes I like to skate to, so he recently started playing them over the speaker when I’d forget to.

  When “Always Remember Us This Way” by Lady Gaga starts playing, I start gliding backward with my arms stretched out wide on either side of me and my head tipped back. I close my eyes and let my muscle memory control my movements to the heart-breaking song. My body pulls me into a Biellmann stretch, my ha
nds lifting my extended left leg to meet the back of my head, inches away. Returning my left back down with a spin, I cross my legs and move them forward and backward while speeding around the ice. This is when I feel like I’m flying with my blades hardly touching down on the ice and the rest of the world keeps moving forward as I stay here, frozen in this moment of utter peace. My body swoops low, and I sit back with my right leg extended, my butt inches from the ice as I keep moving at full skating speed. Popping back up, I move back into forward position, picking up my pace to achieve the axel jump. A few loops around the rink, and I prepare for the jump with my heart pounding in excitement. Around the next curve, my muscles start to go with the flow, muscle memory kicking in, and my body lifts off the ice with my legs crossed over each other as I spin midair before dropping back down with my right leg extended straight out behind me. Nearing the end of the song, I do small circles until I’m in the middle of the arena. To finish, I spin in place with my arms above my head and my head tipped back until everything is a blur. The music cuts off just as I’m done, and my breath fogs the air with each panting exhale.