Dark Night

Back to the set

I trotted over, smiling, as Stan levered himself off his seat and held his arms out for a hug. "Congratulations," I mumbled. "That was spectacular." The interviewer came over as I let go and Stan sank back on the seat with a sigh.

"Delia," he said. "It's nice to see you again. I appreciate you doing this interview in the middle of the night."

"No problem," I said. "It gives me an early opportunity to grill my brother. The family is worried." He nodded.

"We'll cover that," he promised.

"Could we get a footstool or a box in here?" I asked, frowning slightly. "That leg needs to be elevated."

"Don't fuss, Delia," Stan said, slightly embarrassed, and I rolled my eyes as a small wooden crate was scrounged and hastily draped with a piece of blue fabric. I grabbed his pant leg and gently raised it up as the PA slid the box into  place and then plopped down beside my brother. The host ran through the guidelines quickly, then the interview started.

"Viewers will probably remember that at the last Olympics, we had our men's gold and silver medal winners in for an interview with their siblings," he began. "It was one of the most popular segments we produced during the Olympics, and when we teased our interview with Starry on social media, we had several inquiries about whether his sister was here." He grinned at me. "She is, and we're happy to have her in the studio to talk about her brother's performance. So, Delia, let's get right to it. What did you think about his performance?"

"Why didn't you tell me you had the quad axel, jerk?" I asked, swatting him with one of the accent pillows. Stan started to laugh, putting his hands up to deflect my assault.

"Did you know he was trying for it?" the host asked.

"Not specifically, but I knew he'd try, see if he could do it. But not a whisper that it was solid!"

"It isn't, not really," Stan said, looking abashed. "I wanted to see if I could do it, of course, so I started work on it after closing, when I was finishing up the ice and nobody was around. I drive the Zamboni, help maintain the ice surface at the rink," he explained in an aside. "Once I thought there was a good chance that I could do it too, I told Mikhal, who stayed late to help. I don't think he even told Ekaterin. It's still not what I'd say was reliable, though, but I've been on a good streak. It seemed like the perfect opportunity to debut it." I nodded.

The interviewer looked at him like he was unhinged. "At the Olympics, not sure whether you could land it? You already have that quad-quad combo, which no other man has succeeded in duplicating."

"Go big or go home," Stan said. "I wanted to do everything I could to truly win the gold medal. I didn't want to do just enough. I'm retiring, so I also wanted to give the spectators something to remember. There was no point in elevating anybody's expectations *cough*Delia*cough* if I couldn't really do it. As far as the combo goes, eventually somebody else will get it too, and I'd be surprised if it wasn't more common during the next Olympics. And more quad axels. You don't get to this level of skating without continually wanting to push yourself to be better." He poked me. "And I knew Delia would be having a conniption." We grinned at each other. "I've always said--"

"If I land all my jumps and skate clean, I can win," we said in perfect unison, and the interviewer laughed.

"Let's see that reaction," the host said, and I shook my head as the relevant portion of the recording was queued up. There I am, looking like a board just hit me across the head, then turning to ask Dad questions, and Dad looking clueless too. I pointed to the ice and twirled my finger, four and a half rotations, as I spoke. Stan started to laugh.