Page 120 of About to Fall

I couldn’t feel excited about any of it.

I sat on the hotel bed staring at Nicky’s name in my messages. When I had returned to the cooldown room, he was practically asleep against Kat’s shoulder. She had taken him back to his parents’ hotel away from prying eyes. I just wanted to be with him.

My phone rang.

Umma.

The contrast hit me like a slap. Two hours ago, Geneviève Fontaine had looked at me with tears in her eyes and thanked me for taking care of her son. Dominic had listened to the news about Nicky with quiet concern. Margaux had entrusted me with her flowers like she was handing over something sacred.

That was what family looked like. That was what love looked like when it wasn't transactional.

I answered because I wanted to put the anger somewhere and my mother had the worst timing of any human being alive.

“Adrian! Congratulations, darling. We watched the stream. Bàba and I are so proud—first place! We always knew—”

“Don't.”

Silence.

“Don't call me to say you're proud when the only time you’ve sat in the stands was at the Olympics. Don't say 'we always knew' when Bàba can't name a single one of my programs. And don't pretend this matters to you when the only reason you're calling is because first place is something you can brag about at your next dinner party.”

“Adrian, that's not—”

“Bash flew in from Calgary. He’s training for the Games too but he came. Because that’s what family does. They show up. They sit in the stands. They care about the person, not the placement.”

“I don't understand what—”

“I'm dating someone, by the way. Since we’re celebrating my good fortunes.”

A pause. Careful. Recalibrating. “That's wonderful, darling. Who is he?”

“Nicolas Fontaine.”

Nothing. The name meant nothing to her. Of course it didn't. She couldn't name a single skater on the international circuit besides me and even that was generous—she probably had to Google which discipline I competed in before calling.

“He's a figure skater,” I said flatly. “Canadian national champion. The one the press has called my biggest rival for the last seven years. We started training together when I moved to Toronto. We're in love. Any of this registering?”

“Well, I think that's lovely. You know I'm not old fashioned like Bàba. I've always supported—”

“You've always tolerated. There's a difference.”

“That's not fair, Adrian. I told you when you came out that it didn't change anything for us.”

“Yeah. Nothing changed. That was the problem.”

“Your father is a traditional man but he's coming around. Look at your cousin Zachary—he and his roommate have been together for years and your Uncle Brian hasn't cut him off. These things take time in our family.”

“His roommate.” I laughed—bitter, hollow. “They've been together for eight years, Umma. They own a house together. And you all still call Ian his roommate because actually acknowledging it would require treating Zachary like a full person instead of a line item on the family balance sheet that hasn't been written off yet.”

“Adrian—”

“That's your benchmark? Not being cut off from the Zhao fortune? That's what acceptance looks like to you?”

“I'm trying—”

“You’re trying? You didn’t even show up today!”

“I didn’t know you wanted me to.”