Memories

Chapter Six

I remember growing up, my father paid for figure skating classes. It was his way of showing he wanted good things for me, but he never watched me skate. Better yet, he never took me.

My instructor at the time was a very kind woman, an olympic pro. She taught me how to express my emotions through movement, and figure skating became very therapeutic for me.

My grandfather still pays for rehearsals, while every winter I skate for entertainment at Vale Rink and Rockefeller Rink. I earn loads of money during the holidays, which is helpful for groceries and a simple shopping day.

The snow was starting to fall in NYC, I hadn't seen Octavius since early fall. Everything involving him was just a memory, almost forgotten. I didn't mind it, it was probably for the best. It is for the best.

Manny always pestered me about overworking myself this time of year. He didn't want anything bad to happen while I performed, and some of the other regulars teamed up on me to try to get me to focus more on the ice.

I started getting my coat on, my duffle bag resting on my shoulder. "You guys gotta stop worrying about me! I'll be alright."

Manny sighed as he started closing the bar. "When does it start? Angela and I want to see you skate!"

I giggled as I pulled the door open. "This Sunday around six. See ya Manny!"

In the locker room, I pulled my hair into a messy bun and slipped into my thermal leggings and turtleneck. I laced up my skates and walked inside the training rink, which didn't have a single soul inside. It was mostly like this since I was the only one practicing super late.

I slipped in some earbuds and played a simple jazz song I would perform and hit the ice. The skates were freshly sharpened and cleaned, gliding and skating feeled so fresh and smooth.

The music stringing in my ears, while my arms made gestures to show the emotion of the song. My eyes closed as I spun on my toes and skated again. Opening them again, I held my hands out then to my heart, the saxophone in my ears playing a romantic note.

After my hour playlist was over, I pulled an earbud out. Panting and sweating slightly, it was a great practice. I skated towards the exit before walking back to the locker room. Taking my skates off and slipping them in my bag.

My ankle felt a little funny after trying a jump but nothing tape and cloth can't fix. My ankle always felt funny when skating, the jumps always sending a shot of pain in the same ankle.

I slipped my boots on and headed home. The cool air hitting my cheeks, turning them into a rosie color. NY smelled crisp and fresh this time of night. No one usually is out this late, except the escorts who always talk about the bar and the skating competition.

It reminded me a little of my mother. She wasn't an escort, but she did jump from guy to guy as much as one does. When I was younger, my mother would bring a flask to my competitions and then take me to her favorite bar afterwards. She would order any bear food that was delicious to me and would give me sparkling grape juice.

"Cheers to my little love coming in first freaking place!" She would stand up as all the others would get excited for me, making me feel like the most special girl in the world.

Mother would always hug me tightly and tell me how proud she was of me. How proud she was that I am doing everything my father disliked because she didn't want me to be anything like him. The only thing me and my father had in common was our determination for the things we love.

I wish he could see how well I am doing...