Olympic Conquest

Lainey - Punishment

There's always someone who will say you'll never make it – journalists, rivals, coaches, judges, even a close friend or family member. The worst is when it comes from yourself. 

It's been a long year since the snowmobile accident. At first, I retreated and pushed everyone away. I couldn't pretend that everything was okay. Because it wasn't. I wasn't. I didn't recognize myself anymore. I didn't want to skate or see or talk to Cory or my girlfriends. My parents insisted that I go to therapy where I was forced to recount what had happened to me.

I vaguely remembered the accident. I woke up with a concussion with no memory of how it all happened. I couldn't think clearly and I was having a hard time understanding everyone around me. I remember being on the snowmobile with Cory and that was it. I asked about Cory and they said he was fine. And that he had saved my life. At that moment, I sort of checked out of reality. My parents were talking but I didn't hear anything they were saying.

I almost died? Cory saved me? These questions repeated in my mind, like a record on a turntable. How could I have been so reckless? How could I put Cory in that situation, knowing he had lost his brother on the same mountain? I felt horribly guilty, depressed and scared. I went through a dark period that I can only describe as hitting rock bottom.

Cory desperately wanted to see me but every time my parents asked if he could visit, I couldn't find the will or strength to see him. I felt too guilty and ashamed and unworthy of his love. I didn't want to look into his eyes, knowing how much I must have disappointed him. I can still hear him telling me to not go so fast. I loved him with all my heart, but I couldn't forgive myself or allow myself to be happy. I had to be punished for what I had done. No one else would punish me so I needed to do it myself.

For months, my skates sat in the corner of my room taunting me. Eventually, I hid them in the garage, far away from my physical being. I couldn't even bear to be in the same room with them. If I wasn't willing to have a life, I certainly couldn't find the strength to skate again or see Cory.

I frustrated everyone around me, but I didn't care. I was in the deep depths of self-pity. I didn't want any visitors. No friends or my coach. No one. My parents and my brother tried to help me. They gave me letter after letter from Cory apologizing for hurting me and begging to see me. I cried reading them – knowing it wasn't his fault. I couldn't even find the will to let him know I didn't blame him at all. I eventually stopped reading his letters. And they eventually stopped coming. I was numb.

Weeks went by and my concussion improved but my hip worsened. Even though I had stopped skating, my hip was still deteriorating. Even walking was hard. I was in pain every day. My mom brought up the idea of the surgery and I screamed at her. I wasn't ready and I was taking it out on everyone around me.

During an especially painful moment, my dad came in my room. I think I was crying and feeling really down about my life, as per usual, and angry at how my body was failing me. He handed me a DVD and said, this is based on a true story. I think you'll relate.

I threw the DVD down and ignored it for a few days. I didn't want to fix my problem. I was fine.

And then one night, as I was restlessly trying to sleep, I opened my eyes to a bright light in my room. I got up to close the shade and I looked outside. The Dog Star was shining bright into my room. I stood and watched it until the sun came up.

That next morning, I began cleaning up my room, attempting to find some order again. I reached under my bed and found the DVD my dad had given me. I took a long look at it and finally put it in the DVD player. The movie was Rudy and I ended up watching it over and over that day. The sheer willpower he had to fulfill his dream, even when his dream seemed futile, was so inspiring. I would watch the tryout scenes and Rudy taking hit after hit after hit. I absolutely related to his passion and drive.

"Lainey?"

I jump not expecting to hear my name. I wonder how long I'd been daydreaming, leaning against the boards, staring at the ice. I stand up slowly, still stiff from my hip surgery and I see that it's Mark. I'm not surprised to see him. We had many make-out sessions here under the bleachers. He was always a fixture at the rink.

"Hi Mark." He gives me a hug. Even after all these years, his embrace is familiar.

"I almost didn't recognize you – you're all bundled up."

"Are you working here?" I ask him.

"I'm a monitor during free skate a few days a week. I can't seem to give this place up."

"I can relate."

"It's good to see you," he says.

"It's nice to see you. I should really be going."

"I hope you come back. Ask for me next time and I'll get you on the ice for free – though I'm sure if you told the cashier who you are, she'd let you in too."

"Thanks – I don't mind paying the entry fee. I like being anonymous."

"You won't be anonymous for long if you keep skating like that."

"Point taken. I'll tone it down." I turn and leave for my car. Mark runs up to me.

"I wanted to say that I'm glad you're doing so well. I was worried about you. I tried to visit but I was told you didn't want to see anyone."

"I'm not going to lie. It's been hard. I appreciate your concern. Thank you, but I should really go. It's nice to see you." I turn to leave, hoping to get out of there before it gets uncomfortable. Every encounter with Mark always seems to go badly quickly.

"Would you want to grab lunch some time this week?"

"I really shouldn't. I'm still in therapy . . ."

"Everyone has to eat, right?"

"Ha, that's a good one. What movie is that from?"

"It's true, right?"

I know I'm not getting out of this. "Yes, it's true."

"How about tomorrow? I could swing by and pick you up."

Well, I've never really had closure with Mark. It could be a good time to let him know how I really feel.

"Okay, sure."

"Great, I'll see you then." He kisses me on the cheek. I walk back to my car and the entire way, all I can think about is Cory and where he is.