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Chapter 2: Only one call away
The next day, a Monday, I did something I usually did not do - calling in sick even though I wasn't. But firstly, I was feeling like shit, I was an emotional wreck and I knew I would be for the next few days. Not even my Thai Chi routine did help. Secondly, I hadn't slept at all last night and would not be able to concentrate anyway. So I ended up sitting on my couch again in my sleeping shirt, going through some work related absolutely boring administration crap, while at the same time checking fans' reactions on Twitter and co.
No surprise, Steve Rogers was the fan-favourite, everybody's darling. Besides very good looks, he had been graced with incredible talent and he had been nicknamed "Captain America", slightly ridiculous in my opinion. Fury's other protégé, James "Bucky" Barnes, had been named the "Winter Soldier" - that was kind of fitting. Of course he was much too young for me, same as Rogers, but I was damaged, not dead, and could admit that he was indeed striking with his bad-boy charme. He had a reputation as a ladies' man, the total opposite to his best friend Steve who somehow had avoided all relationship-related gossip so far. A couple of years ago I had come up with the theory that he must be sleeping with Hill, they had quite a bit in common. So far, my theory hadn't been proven.
Finally, after getting myself a glass of Scotch, I decided to stream Phil's contestants' performances again. My judgement about Barton didn't change, however when I was watching Ward and Morse, I realized they did not only lack any emotional connection, they seemed to obviously dislike each other. Some cheesy break-off-song would have fit a thousand times better than the soft, classical piece Coulson had chosen for them. It was beautifully choreographed - and wasted on the couple.
Sighing, I stopped watching, wondering for the at least hundredth time if I should call my former partner and simply ask how he was feeling. I could do that, right, without coming across all creepy? Well, maybe it would be weird, after all we hadn't seen each other in person for nearly eight years if I remembered correctly, it had been Maria's twentieth birthday. Last time we had talked on the phone had probably been in 2012 when I had congratulated him to his engagement to Audrey. They must be married by now. On the other side, I had not seen a ring in his finger when they had shown the coaches on TV. I don't know why that seemed so important, but somehow it did. Maybe because my own marriage had gone downhill so fast after the Olympic Games 2002 and I got divorced two years later. Of course he knew, considerate as always he had called me as soon as he had found out. (Fury had told him I guess. I still don't know.) The only thing I wanted, and of course still want for him, is to be happy. That is probably why I would consider training youngsters with him, if it meant something to him. To keep my distance, I had only send text messages to congratulate him to the success at the World Cup this year, he had responded in kind.
When suddenly the phone next to me on the couch rang, I nearly jumped in shock, nearly expecting it to be Phil. But the caller ID showed my mom. Sighing, I took the call.
"Qialian, why are you on your phone?", she asked instead of a greeting, "shouldn't you be at work?"
I simply gave an annoyed sound in response, waiting for the inevitable rant to come.
"So I guess you are not at your desk but at home. You have watched ice skating the last couple of days and now you are depressed. Am I right?" She didn't even let me answer. "Matter of factly, I watched it too. As you are aware I know a couple of things about it - I liked the Chinese mix-girl but she looked so scared. But you know that already. Anyway. Phil's couple doesn't match. Even your father could see that. So what are you going to do about it?"
Wait, my parents had been watching it TOGETHER if I understood correctly! They had been divorced for decades, but apparently things can come around.
"Ma, what do you want me to do about it?", I asked annoyed. This wasn't her business! "I can't force them to like each other!"
"No, but you can find them both suitable partners. And coach that Barton guy. God knows, Phil and you together would be one of the best trainer teams that have ever been. Maybe only second to Fury and Danvers."
I huffed. "And you know what happened to Fury and Danvers. Same that happened to Phil and me. Accident. She was responsible for him loosing his eye. I was responsible for him loosing his hand. They went separate ways. She trained me, he trained Phil. Then they trained us together, but in the end it got so bad that she simply disappeared."
"But before that, they had made champions out of you. And more importantly even, if I say so, they had found two puzzle pieces that matched."
Oh wow, Ma was really poetic today! Must be Dad's influence. But she was right in a way.
"Ma, what happens if I go back and the same happens like with Nick and Carol? That we end up hating each other and make everything worse?"
I knew I sounded desperate, but after all this was my mother who was very difficult but still stood by me. She seemed to consider that for a moment.
"Well, than I guess you will make at least one champion on the way."
Somehow this dry analysis helped me more than any sweet words, making me feel ready to face Phil. Or at least as ready as I would be, given the circumstances. After I had ended the call with my mother, I took some deep breaths. I still had Coulson's number on speed dial and I used it before I could change my mind. I had to wait and to wait and was already going to hang up, when I heard a horrible noise on the mobile connection. Then it cleared again.
"Mel?", a familiar voice said, making me breathe out in relief. He still sounded like he used to.
"Hey!", was all I got out, more timidly than I would have liked. His next sentence was unexpected.
"It's good to hear your voice", he said, sounding totally honest.
"Yeah", I just answered.
I might not have sounded convincing, but I really meant it.
"So I guess you will be the first one to know", he began, causing dread to roll in my stomach, "that I will stop training my three skaters. Barton is probably going to Fury and Ward and Morse either to Gonzales or to Garrett. If they stay together at all."
So that was it. What I had feared. That he would give up.
"Phil, you can't give up!", I protested, "they were quite good, the talent is there, you can make them even better! Just give them a bit more time!"
I heard him sigh, if he had already prepared himself for that kind of conversation.
"But they don't bring back medals", he objected then, his voice suddenly hard, sounding so much colder than I was used to.
It shocked me, when had he become like that?
"That is not true!", I argued again, "you won medals at the American championships. And now they even brought you a bronze medal at the last World Cup!"
"Not Olympia though", he answered, still sounding icy, "only a Team Medal there for Morse and Ward, and that was mainly because of Fury's people."
No, not Olympic Games, that was true. They would always hold a special place in a athlete's heart.
"Do the three want to stay with you?", I asked, trying to get to the bottom of the problem.
"Yes, at least Clint and Bobbi. Ward isn't so sure yet."
Okay, Bobbi must be what they called Barbara Morse.
"But if they want to stay with you, why not indulging them? Do you have something better to do?", I wanted to know, provoking him on purpose.
"Why would you suddenly care anyway", he sneered in a totally un-Phil-like way, "you didn't bother until now. Besides, it is not as if I see YOU train anyone. No, you chose to run."
It felt as if he had stabbed me in the chest, in the eight years we had trained together he had hardly ever been that mean to me. And he was right, on top of that. About the not-training-thing. Definitely not about the not-caring!
"I have always cared Phil! But you didn't need me. And I don't want to train because it hits too close to home."
"Well smartass, that is where you are wrong!", he barked, "I did need you! I always have! And I miss you every god-damn day I stand next to the rink. And now even more. I am simply not meant to be at Olympic Games without you. I lost my left hand because of the accident but I lost my right hand too because you left me! After years I finally got used to the hand, but I guess I will never get used to you not being around, it is crazy and pathetic! You know that when we were skating, I never needed the medals, they were only a nice extra. Because I had you! Now they became so important cause you are gone and not coming back!"
Normal, people would probably either start to cry or faint at this display of ... affection. Or at least passion and elation. Not me though. I was just sitting there, face passive as stone, while my thoughts did fucking backflips in my brain. It seemed as if I had to do what I was afraid of - at least it was worth a try. Maybe now was the time to be brave. At last.
"And what if I came back? Did the whole thing with you?", I asked quietly.
The line was so silent that I thought for a moment he had hung up on me.
"You would do that?", he finally asked, his voice moved, though I couldn't quite decipher what it was that I was hearing. Hope? Disbelief?
"You know I don't talk nonsense!", I chided him, "but yes, I would. Under some conditions of course."
"And those are?", he asked, suddenly sounding unsure.
"I don't think this is a conversation to have over the phone while you are thousands of miles away and you should be busy getting your team in line for the expo in three hours!", I argued.
"Mel, if this wasn't under those circumstances, we wouldn't even have this conversation, right?", he simply commented, "and I have ten minutes before the others come back from their lunch. So tell me, what do you want?"
I rolled my eyes even if I knew he couldn't see me. I really would have preferred saying that to his face but well, I couldn't be picky right now and I couldn't back off.
"Okay, so firstly, you don't tell anyone I am training your team. I don't want people to talk."
After the accident, I had had enough press for a lifetime. Hard to imagine I had kind of liked attention early on in my life, even though I would have never admitted it. My façade had always been that of the Ice Queen, quite indifferent to fame, focussed on success. Well, I actually had rather been focussed on giving my best than being the best, the importance of medals had faded a bit over the 16 years of my career, after I had won my first World Cup medal at the age of 14.
"Secondly, I am going to help you train them, but I am not going to go on the ice. No skating. And don't even think about trying to weedle me into it!"
I seriously had not been on skates for almost 16 years. If I could still do it? Probably, after all, muscle memory should kick in. I was still fit, fitter than probably some of the 20-year-old skaters. Martial arts did definitely help with it. My therapist aka ex-husband had recommended it as an outlet for aggressions- sometimes it worked. Also, the floor was padded and not as hard as the ice. Falling didn't hurt that much. Even after quitting figure skating, I had never quitted ballet. Maybe because I liked it, or to stay flexible, or to ridiculously hold on to something from "before". From time to time I found myself automatically ending up in "Biellmann-pose", standing on one leg with the other one bend backwards over my head, held in both hands. I used to be able to do it with both legs, now only the right one still worked easily. I wondered if Phil was still skating.
"I know that you are training in this weird little town in Michigan, Providence. You probably know I am living in New York at the moment. I will have to quit my job and move, I guess, so thirdly, I am not going to live together with three kids when two obviously don't like each other. And don't even try to deny that! I need my own place, I am not used to being around people anymore."
Fury had told me that Phil's group had a big house there, where the athletes were living, next to a private ice rink. It was sponsored by a billionaire, playboy and philantropist whose mother had been a show skater. His father Howard had supported me once and still sponsored Team Fury, they were training in a facility in upstate New York, rather close to Team Xavier in Westchester.
"Alright, I accept your terms", my former (and apparently new) partner answered without hesitation. "Housing situation is a bit difficult in Providence at the moment as it is so small, but if you don't want to stay at the playground, you could stay at my place until we find you something for your own."
Playground? Interesting choice of name. Anyway, the prospect of living with Coulson, even if only for a short time, made me unsure. I mean, we had lived together for a couple of years, after we had started pair figure skating and before things between Andrew and me got serious and we moved in together. But that had been in another life. Would we still get along?
"I think you should ask Audrey first!", I objected.
After all, he had a fiancé or wife that he should consort. They definitely lived together, I was sure about that.
"Audrey?", he sounded confused. Then, he seemed to realize something. "Oh, you don't know. Audrey and I separated. Also she never lived with me permanently in Providence. Not the kind of place for a cellist." His voice was a bit sad. "So if you are interested, I have a spare bedroom. The house is tiny, really, but should do for two people."
Suddenly there were voices in the background, one male and one female, chatting. Then another man intervened, dark voice and all, cutting them off.
"Alright then, I've got to go", Phil said, "I will call you when we are back to sort out the details ."
"Yes, okay", I answered.
Before I hung up, the last thing I heard was Coulson telling the others that whoever he had talked to was none of their business. He was right though, they would find out soon enough. If we would manage to organise everything like reasonable adults.
Thanks for reading!
If you want to know what I mean with "Biellmann-pose", just Google "Biellmann spin".