Melting the Ice

4; arbejdsglæde

"arbejdsglæde"

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(noun) A Danish phrase, arbejdsglæde is an inspirational feeling, which is born from the happiness one obtains from doing something they love, i.e., their work, art or career. Other similar words to this in different languages: Dutch (arbeidsvreugde) and German (Arbeitszufriedenheit).

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"You did it! It's your fault! Your bloody fault they're gone! Why didn't it have to be you?" my mother's eyes water and her whole body starts shaking.

"Mum ... No, it wasn't me ..." 

My mum shakes her head in denial. "No. Don't call me that. It was you. It was all you. It should've been you." She puts her hands in her hair, shaking her head.

I can't help but let out a loud sob before I cover my mouth with my hand. These days are the worst. When she accuses me, it's even worse than when she doesn't remember it. I should be used to it by now, but it feels like she always cuts me open with her words, always leaves me bleeding.

I stand up and get out from the hospital, not looking at anyone, just trying to get out of there as fast as I can to breathe some fresh air. Nurses and doctors all tell me to be patient with her, to not take it seriously. But that's my mother and it's hard to see her like that. It's hard to listen to things she tells me even though I should know she doesn't mean them. It still hurts. 

I head straight to the ice hall, carrying my skates with me all the time in my backpack. 

But as I put my skates on, I can't bring myself to stand up from the bench and go out on the ice. I sit on the hard wood, putting my elbows on my knees and just stare at the empty ice, listening to the silence. 

I saw Miles again today, he drove me to my work. And I brought up the subject about me ending my ice skating career and find myself another job so I could pay all the bills that are waiting for me on my kitchen table. He, of course, tried to talk me out of it. Because he knows how much skating means to me, he knows how long I've dreamt about this and how much it meant to them. 

He doesn't want me to stop, but it's not really his choice after all. I appreciate his opinion, but, although he tries to understand it and tries to put himself in my shoes, he still doesn't know what a burden I'm carrying around, pretending everything is okay, even though I'm afraid to get out of the bed each morning in fear of what the new day holds for me. It might be something good and it might be something bad. 

And I have enough of bad, I don't think I need any more of it. 

I know that if I stop skating, I'll miss it. I'll miss everything about it - the hard training, the routine, the satisfaction of doing a move perfectly ... the rush whenever I step on the ice and feel like the world around me just tends to disappear.

Of course I wouldn't stop skating for good, I'd just stop striving to win the competition, meaning I'd skate only in my free time. Which would be limited if I decided to take another job.

"Not doing any tricks on the ice today?" 

I look up at that, now familiar, voice and shrug. I don't think I'll ever get used to seeing his handsome face. It always does something to me. "Not really in the mood today." 

Zach raises his eyebrow at me and sits down beside me, pulling his shoes off. I look away when I notice how his muscles strain his thin shirt. "So you just came here to sit on the bench in silence because you're not in the mood to skate?" He looks down. "And you also put your skates on?"