Over the telephone, I told Devin that I wanted to date other people. He did not respond negatively, but lightheartedly replied, “Okay. I’ll see you in May.” He seemed not to take my decision seriously which may have been justified as I already rekindled our relationship once. I did not argue with Devin or object to his assumption. Telling him I planned to date someone else freed me from the guilt that occupied my mind whenever I met Neil for lunch or went out with him in the evening. The trip to Washington confirmed that I was indeed involved with Neil beyond mere friendship. On some level, I may have wanted to reserve the possibility of taking refuge in my comfortable old relationship with Devin if things did not work out with Neil.
Every landmark in Washington D.C. fascinated me. I wanted to visit them all and comb through each display in the Smithsonian Museum, a truly daunting task. On this first trip, I made a significant dent in my sightseeing goal but barely scratched the surface of the museum. Neil happily took me wherever I wanted to go, sparing no expense to amuse and feed me. Both of Neil’s parents were medical doctors in private practice. They lived in a large, luxurious house in Northern Virginia. Neil grew up attending the symphony, ballet and opera. He frequented the country club with his parents and did not have to work while attending college. Meeting him in the computer lab was a fluke. He only accepted the part-time position because another computer science student suddenly took a leave of absence for the spring semester. Neil’s parents provided him with a generous monthly living allowance and additional money to entertain his new girlfriend.
As a studious person Neil had few girlfriends, and I may have been his first serious one. His parents seemed to find our involvement charming and financially supported their son’s romance. After numerous Dutch treats and evenings in front of the television, Neil was the first man who could afford to take me out regularly for proper dates. We dined in exotic restaurants, and he bought me gifts and flowers. He delighted me with his attentions. I felt like a princess and thoroughly enjoyed the experience. Initially, I probably liked the experience more than I liked Neil himself. This may have been shallow, but considering the years I spent working to put myself through school with few superfluous treats, being indulged by a young man seemed an appropriate reward.
Remembering our first date, Neil asked if I would like to go skating and offered a choice between ice and roller. I gladly accepted the “ice” option. As a teenager, he skated occasionally with friends at an ice rink near his home. We went there together for a weekday morning session. This was my first contact with adult ice skating. While Neil and I circled the perimeter like recreational skaters in rented boots, a group of several adults practiced basic maneuvers in the middle of the arena. None of them skated as competently on the ice as I had in my family’s three-car garage wearing cheap department store roller skates. A coach worked with one adult at a time for about twenty to thirty minutes each. These adults took private lessons and still skated poorly. I wondered how the benefit of lessons might have improved my skating.
My eyes followed the movement of the skaters’ feet. From an outside perspective, it looked more complicated than I know it was. Since I had never been trained to perform basic step sequences, they appeared strange and unfamiliar. Given a brief lesson with their coach, I could have executed those steps. Trying to absorb a footwork pattern without previous exposure reminded me of thumbing through a college textbook before taking the course. The content of a new textbook can seem intimidating. After passing many difficult math and science classes, I realize the material in those books becomes more tangible after attending the lectures. This is somewhat true for skating also. While I could not memorize the footwork performed by the adult skaters without even knowing the names of the turns, a little instruction would simplify the task.
However, I believe skating is inherently more difficult than academic pursuits because training the body requires more than mental acuity. Basic understanding contributes to learning to skate, but other more physical qualities such as coordination, confidence, strength and agility are also critical. While talent may be indispensable to becoming either a master chemist or a championship skater, determined students of average intelligence can earn a passing mark in a basic chemistry course. A determined skating student must also possess athletic qualities to master the single axel, which is essentially a beginning move in competitive figure skating. The average adult can pass general chemistry if he dedicates himself to serious study. However, the most determined adult may never be able to land a simple axel jump. After many years of education, I believe I can learn any academic concept, but performing a triple jump is probably beyond my realm of possibility.
Neil also observed the adult skaters and noted some of them might benefit from losing weight before worrying about jumping. Although he had no background in skating, his comment did not seem unreasonable to me. Based on osmosis of medical knowledge from his parents, Neil expressed concern about significantly overweight people subjecting their joints to pounding skating jumps. One particularly rotund woman could barely skate across the ice. Her bulky thighs rubbed together creating pills on her tights. The overall physical fitness level of any considerably overweight person may be suspect. Skating is an athletic activity that requires muscular development, flexibility and cardiovascular conditioning. Certainly skating provides excellent exercise and can help people get into better physical shape. However, this woman was not simply trying to stroke and do crossovers. In spite of her girth and limited ability to skate, she attempted toe loops and salchows. The jumps barely left the ice and covered no more than an inch. She was probably a beginner, but I questioned the value of anyone, overweight or slim, jumping before they can skate with confidence.
Without the privilege of a lesson, aside from the group class that I took as a small child, I skated more fluidly in rental boots with dull, flat blades than any of these adults in their shiny new skates. In my early twenties and slender, I may have had an advantage. Watching that heavyset woman practicing jumps made me want to skate again. I longed to jump on the ice like I did on roller skates. However, I never attempted even a waltz jump on ice skates before, so the urge remained under control. Spinning did not enter my mind. None of the adult skaters seemed preoccupied with it either. They could not complete more than a couple of lopsided rotations in a
Neil dropped me off at that rink again during the week while he worked on a computer problem at his parents’ office. Without my boyfriend, I felt uninhibited and decided to try to skate backward on the ice for the first time since that humiliating incident with Mohammed a couple of years before. Since the rink was not crowded, I experimented easily at the far end, out of the way of the adult skaters and their meager jumps. Turning gingerly, I did not want a repeat of the accident caused by expecting a set of four wheels under my feet. After surviving the mohawk turn, I dug the residual edges of the poorly maintained blades into the ice, trying first to swizzle. With each push, I built speed to attempt a crossover. The rental boots provided the same amount of support as my old roller skates, offering comfort and familiarity. As I struggled to understand the center of balance and technique involved in creating momentum from edges, my body began to move in a large circle utilizing the back of the arena. I had not ice skated backward since childhood.
Shifting my weight toward the back of the blades released their modest toe picks from the ice and silenced their scratching. With each stroke I became more secure and confident. After a half-hour, I skated swiftly around the end of the rink as though I had wheels on my feet. The adult skaters left the ice before the end of the session, but I stayed until the Zamboni emerged from its garage. Maybe the adults noticed the college girl in jeans and rental boots who skated backward better than most of them. However, they probably ignored me because I did not try a jump or spin.
I actually impressed myself with those backward crossovers. Of course, I could only do them clockwise and wondered if anyone actually skated backward in both directions. At that time, I was not an expert in skating technique nor did I invest much time in following championship events. I made a mental note to carefully watch the next televised skating program to determine if skaters did backward crossovers in both directions. I was fairly certain that they only jumped and spun one way. My experience in roller and ice rinks did not encourage skating opposite the flow of traffic which generally moved counter clockwise. However, I learned to skate in a vacuum turning, jumping and spinning as my equilibrium preferred. No one dictated skate direction in my family’s garage, and I naturally skated the wrong way landing roller jumps on my left leg. Most figure skaters land on their stronger leg, which is the right leg for the overwhelming majority.
Upon leaving the ice I realized that I had entrusted my shoes to Neil who must have taken them in his car. I returned the warm boots to the rental counter and sat down shyly on a bench trying to hide my stocking feet. Looking anxiously through the glass doors to the parking lot, I wondered how late Neil would be and if I might be thrown out onto the sidewalk with bare feet. When his car finally arrived, I scooted quickly out the door hoping none of the rink employees realized that my shoes were missing. As I sat in the passenger seat, I saw my loafers on the floor mat and gratefully slipped my feet into them. Neil praised me enthusiastically when I told him that I skated backward. He seemed to fall into the category of non-skating people who could be impressed by backward crossovers.
Until the end of the spring semester, I worked diligently on a combination of class assignments, assistantship duties and my literature review. When necessary, Neil and I did school work on weekends; but we always reserved the evenings for outings and entertainment. He found an ice rink in a small city less than an hour’s drive away. We skated there once in April before becoming too busy with finals to spare entire Saturday afternoons. Skating entered my thoughts again, changing my serious expression to a smile whenever I imagined myself gliding backward over a sheet of smooth ice.
After completing our exams, I rode with Neil to Northern Virginia and spent a few days at his parents’ house. I ice skated twice, concentrating on forward and backward crossovers, before flying home to California. Since I had to spend the bulk of the summer working on my literature review in order to graduate in December, I only stayed at home for two weeks. During this time, I did not phone Devin. However, when he called the house to find out if I had returned for the summer, I told him that I was dating someone else. This time he seemed sincerely upset and asked to meet platonically for lunch. Seeing no harm in this, I agreed.
As always, being with Devin made me happy. In four years of college, he was one of the few people with whom I remained in regular contact. I described my literature project to Devin who responded immediately that it had nothing to do with bridal apparel. I explained the difficulties that ultimately led to a productive relationship with my mentor, Dr. Perez. Since I decided to pursue a doctoral degree, I hoped to work with bridal consumers for my next academic endeavor. Devin tried to conceal his surprise about the doctorate. He did not want to give the impression that he thought I could not handle highly advanced education, though he probably did wonder. I was never the brightest student, but my work with Dr. Perez taught me improved study habits. He asked where I planned to go for my next degree, and I ticked off the list of universities Victoria recommended, none of which were a convenient drive from Sacramento.
Then Devin asked the question I did not want to have to answer. “So, is it really over between us?”
I shifted uncomfortably in my chair and looked into my teacup as though I found its contents so fascinating that Devin’s words did not register in my mind. I did not know if Devin and I would ever see each other again much less get married. I still cared for him and probably loved him on a level that I was helpless to control. Although I enjoyed Neil’s company and being treated to wonderful dates, Neil did not make me feel as comfortable as my dear friend, Devin. I felt on display in front of Neil’s sophisticated family. As the first person in my family to graduate from college, I was not from Neil’s world of wealth, culture and education. However, I wanted to become a professor someday and Devin did not seem to fit into this new ambition.
Contemplating Devin’s telling question, I knew I might be making a mistake. Had I not moved away or if I planned to return to California to continue my studies, we would have probably maintained our relationship. However, that was not the case. I enjoyed dating Neil and looked forward to the end-of-summer trip we planned to the Outer Banks of North Carolina. I was not necessarily in love with Neil, but had grown tired of struggling on my own. Both of us wanted to pursue further education, so our goals meshed. I also respected Neil’s intelligence, though he did not have to work very hard for anything he wanted or achieved.
“Kate?”
Devin’s voice distracted me from my thoughts.
“You don’t have to answer that. I’m still your friend, Katie. Just call me once in a while. Let me know how you’re doing and when you plan to visit. We can still meet for lunch, and you can tell me about your research.” Devin’s voice trailed off.
In spite of average abilities, I managed to fulfill the dream we previously shared of attending graduate school. By the end of the year, I would earn a Master of Arts degree and move on to a doctoral program. In terms of basic compatibility, Devin was the better match for me. However, I decided to reach beyond my simple background and standard intelligence. I wanted to become a doctor of philosophy, as did my new beau. My parents may have shortchanged me in the world of skating, but I planned to make something of myself as an intellectual. With Dr. Perez’ encouragement and inspiration, I believed personal satisfaction was finally a possibility.
I promised to stay in touch with Devin, even though mixed emotions would make it impractical.
When I returned to Northern Virginia, I asked Neil to take me to the ice arena every day before going back to the university. He accommodated my request readily because he had plenty of work at his parents’ office. In spite of their medical degrees, they could not run their own practice and had bad luck with employees. Neil often had to pick up the pieces and wrote numerous computer programs to simplify their bookkeeping and database of patients. Skating helped to clear my mind of the sadness I felt over leaving Devin. I mourned the end of our relationship after seeing him because breaking up over the telephone did not seem permanent to either of us. Facing him and admitting that I did not plan to come back to California and continue our life together made the separation seem final.
As my crossovers became smoother and I adjusted to a different pair of rental boots each day, I felt liberated from my disjointed emotions. Devin drifted back to California with all of the other people and things I left behind. My focus adjusted to the ice and the flowing movement it permitted. A few short days later, I returned to my research and a new apartment and set of roommates. I was glad to be rid of Tamara, her complaining and sensuous rendezvous. The door did not exactly hit me in the butt on my way out of her townhouse.
My roller skating career ended with Neil, but he also initiated my return to the ice. Neil invited me to spend spring break in Washington D.C. with is family. Apparently, I did not plan to hurry home to marry Devin at my earliest convenience, nor did I consider asking him to follow me to graduate school. Since I wanted to spend a vacation week with Neil, our relationship had become somewhat serious. While I was not necessarily excited about meeting his parents, I longed to visit Washington.
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