Daya wrapped herself in a hug next to the entrance to the VITAL's East Arena, while the relentless voice nagged inside her head.
"Being ghosted by Joy is what you get for smuggling the skates out of the condo and lying to Mike."
"I didn't lie," she piped in miserably, "I just wasn't ready to admit that he was right, and I wanted to skate."
The inner voice dismissed this weak sauce defence with a derisive chuckle. "Whatever. Joy is not coming, you idiot. If you wanted to skate so badly, public skate times are--"
"Hey, Daya!"
Daya nearly jumped up, her heart racing at a dangerous thousand beats per second. "Joy!"
The gal barreled past her. "Come on, time's precious. We can chat later."
Later meant half-a-second in Joy's universe.
"So you're from Ontario? Where? And originally?" And, without waiting for an answer: "You can probably teach too. I can give you a shout when I know they are recruiting. Put in a good word for you. You still remember your spins?"
Daya smiled and nodded, nodded and smiled as she pulled on the boot and started doing up the laces. This is not real... this can't be real.
Joy jumped out of the gate and hopped on the ice, then pummeled her thighs. "This opens up the living energy channels according to Chinese medicine... try that. Oh, come out already, Daya! Ice won't bite you. Unless you fall and kiss it. Gosh, did you quit cold turkey or what? Or was it surgery?"
Daya bit her lip. "No surgery. I screwed up in a qualifier. Popped both my triples, fell on a combo, really badly. I've... lost it, I guess. Felt like the world was unfair, you know? I tried to keep the stiff upper lip, but my coach... Well, he turned away to cheer for the novice girls to beat my score. That's all. I left and didn't go back."
"Shit on the asshole and come on out." Joy cut-backed away from Daya, waving her over. Figure skating mavens were supposed to be like the wingless angels, not cursing brats, but she applauded Joy. The gal looked light on her feet, gaining speed in under three strokes.
"When I am alone like this, I imagine I am on the big ice, Worlds or GP," Joy shouted across the rink the dream that Daya wouldn't have dared to confess in a whisper in Antarctica. "Like I am fifteen again, still believe in all that dreams come true BS. Like, I've beat them all in the short, like twenty points ahead, and stuff. Now it's just a clean free, and I'm on the podium."
She spun with arms folded to the chest, a good old scratch spin. "Come out, challenge me for the first place, Dhawan. Skate off!"
Daya put a foot over the threshold, took one more breath in. "Representing Canada, Daya Dhawan."
It sounded as feeble as her knees felt. Preposterous, but sitting at the boards would be worse.
She jumped on the ice and glided on.
The gleaming surface did not crack open underneath her, the frozen abyss did not consume her.
But neither were there any thunderclaps and lightning flashes, nor the applause of the invisible audience.
Save for Joy's humming and the soft buzz of the halogen lights overhead, the world didn't give a shit about Daya Dhawan stepping on the ice she had forsworn.
The world is bipolar; it loves or it hates and in between there is silence.
Daya listened to the white noise for the first few strides, then filled the world's silence with music. The soundtrack in her head blended Yuri on Ice's opening song and the chords from the Phantom of the Opera, a complete mess, the first thing to think of, the banal songs.
YOU ARE READING
Winners Don't Have Bad Days (Watty 2020 Winner, Romance)
ChickLitWhen a total stranger knows what eats you, maybe they are your one true love. Even if you don't know it yet. || On Friday the 13th, two twenty-something, Daya and Mike, end up in a mutually beneficial arrangement: she is his caregiver after he break...
