As the summer wore on growing hotter and more humid, I struggled to keep myself busy, occupying body and intellect. A radio playing in the dreary laboratory kept me from over-analyzing my situation. Avoiding solitude, I bounced from campus to Martinsville, skating whenever possible. Other times, I sought the company of friends. I did not want to burden Talbert with entertaining me every night, nor could I count on Charlene who worked in the restaurant five evenings per week; so I discovered new friendships among the graduate student population. But my best efforts still left me with ample lonesome hours, many of which were spent in my bedroom staring at the ceiling unable to fall asleep.

Discovering Devin’s approximate whereabouts from my sister cured me of any desire to occupy my vacant imagination with thoughts of a reunion. Yet, destroying that fantasy forced me to deal with overwhelming grief that I was simply not prepared to digest. In addition to coping with Dr. Perez’ death and my defunct engagement, I also agonized over Devin McGee. I could not determine which was worse, daydreaming about him or being angry with myself for not marrying him when given the opportunity. Though I might have believed Neil Fitch was my last hope for marital bliss after dumping Devin; I began to fear that I had forfeited a life of nuptial happiness for a few extravagant dates and vacations financed by a college boy’s indulgent parents. Perhaps I got what I deserved in losing both men. I had to reexamine my own motives and faced the unpleasant possibility that I was just as self-centered and materialistic as Neil.

Confusion and pain sent me to Martinsville seeking comfort on the ice, where I spun and spun. Focused concentration purged destructive thoughts from my mind. I worked harder than usual, improving my sit spin and camel to first quality skills, far exceeding my corresponding ability with jumps and footwork. My forward spins approached the caliber of Randall and Willa’s advanced students. I still lacked a technically correct backspin and had not begun to tackle other backward variants, except for the most cursory exploration. Unfortunately, I could not afford more than a thirty-minute lesson every other week. Willa made the most of our time together by reviewing my spins and edgework and introducing me to the toe loop. She also began to put together a simple program that I hoped to debut at the summer ice show.

While Saturday sessions were crowded all year, almost every session drew limitless numbers of people during the summer. Between the children out of school and the oppressive South Carolina heat, the ice arena offered a logical choice for people to spend free time. Youngsters came out in droves to take figure skating classes or to dabble on the ice. Adults and families sought shelter from scorching weather on weekend public sessions. I avoided public sessions in favor of adult evenings that the Martinsville Community Arena maintained twice per week. Even these sessions filled with recreational skaters who circled the perimeter in brown rented boots.

Although adult evenings drew a larger crowd during the summer, most skaters did not stray far from the barrier leaving the freestyle contingent sufficient practice space. I looked forward to these sessions, preferring them to daytime ice that was usually packed with kids. Stephanie and Vijay attended almost every adult night as well.

We stepped onto the pristine ice sheet that shined with unfrozen water, newly deposited by the resurfacing machine. Our blades ran though the puddles leaving no evidence of our passage as the three of us dispersed into our warm-up routines. Skaters tend to develop a regimen of exercises to prepare themselves for a challenging workout. Mine consisted of stroking and Willa’s coordination drills. Stephanie’s was similarly structured but included a few basic dance patterns. Vijay hot-dogged around the rink and started waltz jumping almost immediately. He seemed to lose nothing between sessions; as though his body stayed warm from whenever he last skated. Confident and aggressive in other aspects of his life, Vijay’s personality translated into fearlessness on the ice. Stephanie was a more conservative individual whose family provided emotional support that fostered belief in herself on or off the ice. I needed to build confidence, rather than draw upon a pre-existing positive self-image. In light of recent negative experiences, was not likely to punish myself with skills that I could not do well or learn readily. Skating became a refuge, a place where I could relish my talent as a spinner and rebuild my self-confidence.

As I began “L” spins, Randall Blanchard glided out to meet Vijay. They talked for a couple of minutes before Vijay circled the ice in powerful backward crossovers, turned forward, and launched into a waltz jump combined effortlessly with a loop. How I envied Vijay! In less than a year, Vijay’s skating surpassed the level achieved by many adult skaters, no matter how long they participate in the sport. He was athletic and very physically fit. His compact muscular body resembled Randall’s, which I assumed was the ideal physique for male skaters. A successful computer programmer, Vijay had ample disposable income to spend on lessons. He usually enjoyed an hour with Randall every week. After deciding to learn a program for the Summer Gala, he squeezed in an extra lesson whenever possible.

Vijay ran through all of his single jumps then pulled a backspin. The backspin was good, but not much better than mine. I felt somehow gratified. Standing by the barrier, I blew my nose and watched Vijay train. He landed a waltz jump and came down spinning. Children learned this exercise as a pre-cursor for the coveted axel. Vijay was learning the axel! I could barely concentrate on my own skating. My eyes struggled to focus on Vijay as I stepped out of spins and stroked around the rink. Finally, I leaned on the boards pretending to be tired to observe my friend’s lesson. Vijay’s progress did not surprise me, though I felt intensely jealous. A strong skater capable of excellent single jumps, the axel was the next logical step in his progression.

The man stepped forward, as he had countless times before to achieve a beautiful floating waltz jump, but this time he rotated while airborne. Bursting out of position, his feet found the ice, landing forward. Vijay hurled himself into the air, landing each attempt on both feet achieving various degrees of rotation. If he had completed an axel during that first lesson, I think I may have taken off my skates and pitched them into the trash receptacle on my way out of the rink. My obsession with personal talent made this man’s display of natural aptitude particularly disheartening.

Randall left Vijay for an appointment with Stephanie, and I returned to my spins. Exiting a camel, I saw Stephanie concluding a jump with one of her typically correct but unremarkable backspins. Pausing to rub a tissue over my nostrils, I observed Stephanie’s next attempt. Waltz-backspin, just like Vijay, though considerably poorer quality than his example. I could accept Vijay learning an axel. He was an undeniably powerful skater, the perfect candidate for axel lessons. However, Stephanie skated in slow motion with little strength or command of the ice. After watching her Ice Review performance, I became more aware of her slowness and lack of expertise. She could execute the moves, but not as though they were second nature. Maintaining a more limited repertoire than Stephanie, the spins that I could do, I did very well. Stephanie had not demonstrated that level of mastery over any skill. She knew a lot of different elements, but none were exceptional.

I assumed solid jumps were a prerequisite for trying an axel, though I saw kids who could barely skate without flailing their arms and legs popping into the air and landing axel-things. Willa maintained high standards for me, and I thought those standards applied to all adult skaters. Of course, I was not a coach and did not know why Stephanie was learning the axel or whether she possessed sufficient background skills to make it a sensible challenge for her. Stephanie did not venture beyond the waltz-backspin. Randall seemed to be introducing this drill to her in a gradual progression toward the more difficult jump. Had he thought she was ready for an axel, she probably would have tried one during her lesson. From my perspective, this confirmed that Vijay was indeed the more competent skater and more worthy of the axel than Stephanie, which offered me some small measure of comfort.

Watching those two people grow as skaters while I leaned on the hockey boards clearing my sinuses depressed me more than sitting in an empty apartment searching for something to watch on television. I left the ice early, stripped off my boots and departed before the axel students could meet me in the lobby. My lovely spins were forgotten, casualties of unbecoming jealousy and self-doubt.

I sat down rather uncomfortably in Clive Butler’s office and looked purposefully into his eyes. “I’ve decided to take a few weeks off,” I told my advisor.

In the days following the adult axel session, I became increasingly despondent. Stephanie and Vijay’s skating did not initiate my despair. I had been struggling with painful emotions for a couple of months. Realizing that I could not make the progress I expected on the ice made me feel sorry for myself and dwell on other issues. Everything in Lawrence, Martinsville, and on the Carolina Tech campus catalyzed ill feelings and unproductive thoughts. Everything reminded me of Neil or Dr. Perez. I needed to escape that environment to preserve my sanity.

Dr. Butler leaned in this desk chair. The backrest hit the wall and he sat up abruptly. Trying to disguise an awkward moment, he began to speak. “That will slow you down, Katherine,” the professor warned.

And you will make sure that it does! I thought.

I could not decided if I despised him or Neil Fitch more. Both men had taken advantage of me for their own purposes. I needed to get away from these people who sparked unhealthy feelings of hatred.

“I won’t be leaving for two weeks, and will only be gone a month. I will work extra hard now and after I get back to make up for lost time,” I replied calmly. If Butler used this summer vacation as an excuse to enslave me for another semester, I would rather live as his puppet for a few more months than descend into a deep depression.

Clive Butler tossed his eyeglasses down on the desk and furrowed his brow thoughtfully. “Now, I know you broke your engagement, and I realize that has been difficult for you,” he began, trying to sound understanding.

I had not tried to hide the termination of my relationship with Neil, but I did not want anyone to mistake me for a heartbroken damsel who had to run home crying over a lost love. Neil was only a fraction of my problem. This depression had been building since Dr. Butler revealed his true nature to me and I became disinterested in my research and potential career options. I could have dealt with Neil had the pain of Dr. Perez’s death not depleted my emotional resources. I had no mental fortitude left to maintain my academic quest or even my interest in ice skating. When my ability to cope at the rink disintegrated, a warning sounded in my consciousness urging me to take action.

“Actually, someone close to me passed away recently and I simply need to take some time for myself,” I responded as dispassionately as possible, refusing to allow this opportunist professor the power to control me.

His expression changed faster than he could hide his surprise. Butler picked up his glasses and pushed them onto the bridge of his nose, recovering his apathetic facade. “I’m sorry to hear that, Katherine.” Again, he grabbed the opportunity to be polite. Butler had perceived me as a silly broken-hearted little girl when, truthfully, I was battling grief over the loss of a loved one. I nodded accepting his sympathy but offered no additional information.

The eyeglasses danced across the desktop again as Clive Butler puffed out his barrel chest in a grandiose display of benevolence. “You’re a bright student, Katherine, and a good worker. I know you will make up the missed time, but departmental policy does not allow me to keep any graduate student on the payroll if he or she is absent for more than two weeks at a time. Your assistantship will be reinstated when you return to school.”

“I understand,” I replied evenly. I knew the rules and had already decided to contact the bridal salon in Sacramento to pick up a few Saturdays and evenings of work to offset some of my expenses while visiting my father.

Surprisingly, Dr. Butler referred to me as a “bright student and good worker”. He ordinarily treated me with such disregard that I felt inconsequential and inferior. As one of his indentured apprentices, I had few options but to endure his disinterested neglect. However, Butler could always count on me to provide data whenever he needed results for a conference or proposal. I worked especially well when given direction and deadlines. Left to my own devices, I became bored and distracted, experimenting with figure skating jumps and stretching exercises in the laboratory when no one was looking. Analyzing Clive Butler’s motivations could only lead to paradox and a splitting headache. Maybe his comments were altruistic, kind words showered upon a person who desperately needed to hear them.

Just knowing I would be leaving South Carolina for a few weeks improved my attitude. I worked dutifully on campus, using my time efficiently before the much-needed vacation. I returned to the Martinsville Community Arena freed from jealousy and ready to focus on my own strengths. For the next two weeks, Stephanie hopped tentative waltz jumps into carefully modulated backspins while Vijay hurled his body into the air and very often onto the merciless ice. These two adults had begun a long and treacherous journey, one I was not prepared to undertake at that time. Not only were my skating skills insufficiently developed, but my travels through academia were treacherous enough. I had to stay healthy and strong to survive my studies. A serious injury that might keep me out of the laboratory would only “slow me down”, as Dr. Butler would admonish, giving him reason to delay my graduate or pawn off sections of my research to eager but unwary new students.

I closed the paperback novel that had occupied my time for much of the all-day trek across the United States. Pressing my forehead against the polymeric aircraft window, I lovingly evaluated the patchwork of farmland north of Sacramento. Separated by narrow roads and irrigation ditches, acres of rice paddies abutted vineyards and various agricultural plantings. Interstate 5 reached north like a long solitary arm out of the greater Sacramento area where other thoroughfares circulated traffic through the state capitol. That was my home. The thought of it and fondness for it made my eyes sting with tears. How I longed to return home after graduation! Ironically, my previous conviction that Sacramento held no promise of a future as a consumer science professor accounted, in part, for breaking with Devin. Admiring the landscape from above, those ambitions no longer limited my options. I loved that hot, dry paradise.

Somewhere down there Devin McGee still lived; with his wife and their child.

More importantly, since my last visit, a new ice rink had opened not far from my alma matre.

Chapter 34 posted 6/29/01
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