Page 39 of About to Fall

“When you're ready to drop the act,” I said quietly, “you know where to find me.”

Then I kept walking. Didn't look back. Didn't need to.

Some things were meant to be savoured. And I could be patient.

20. Nico

I had never been so glad to sleep in my own bed. Familiar streets, familiar rink, familiar routine. My apartment was small and clean and mine and there was no one in the next bed breathing in ways that derailed my entire nervous system. I could sleep here. I could think here. I could exist without the constant, low frequency hum of Adrian’s proximity.

Québec had been complicated. Professionally, I'd done what I came to do. My exhibition skate was solid—clean landings, strong elements, the kind of performance that told the federation and the press and the selection committee that Nico Fontaine was back and still worth betting on. The crowds had welcomed me back with open arms. Canada's golden prince, proving he still deserved the crown. Mission accomplished.

The rest of the trip, I was handling less well.

Adrian hadn't tried anything after that first night. Not directly. Not in any way I could point to and say this, this is the problem, this is the line you crossed. He had been—maddeningly—normal. Cordial, even. He left the bathroom clean. He didn't hog the limited outlets. He said good morning and good night and didn't mention what had happened.

But I swear—I swear—there was a gleam in his eye every time we made eye contact. Something mischievous and knowing and held just long enough to make my stomach drop before he looked away. Like he was carrying a secret we both knew and had decided to let me be the one who broke first.

I was not going to break first.

I had spent several therapy sessions talking about Adrian and at my first session back from Québec, he was the star topic once again. Dr. Priya specialized in working with elite athletes and therefore understood that her clients were deeply unreasonable people. She listened to me describe the situation with the kind of attentive neutrality that meant she was forming conclusions she was waiting for me to arrive at myself.

“He makes me so angry,” I said, lying on the green velvet couch in her office, staring at the ceiling the way I always did when I was avoiding eye contact.

“You rarely express this level of intense emotion about anyone. Why do you think he brings this out of you?”

“He could drive a priest insane. He's just maddening.”

“Can you say more about that?”

I could not say more about that. I could not, specifically, utter the words mutual masturbation to my therapist. There were limits to the therapeutic process and I had found them.

“He just floats through the world without a care,” I said instead. “He vapes. Eats garbage. Wears costumes that are definitely not regulation. Mouths off to coaches. Shows up late. Breaks every rule I've ever been told was non-negotiable.” I stared at the ceiling. “And none of it catches up with him. He went to the Olympics. He has sponsorships. The fans love him. The judges reward him. He does everything wrong and it all works out.”

“And that bothers you.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I did everything right.” My voice came out smaller than I intended. “Every single thing that was ever asked of me. I ate what I was told to eat. I trained when I was told to train. I smiled for the cameras and gave the right interviews and never once pushed back. I was perfect, Dr. Priya. I was so fucking perfect.”

“And?”

“And I'm the one who ended up in rehab.”

She let the silence sit. She was good at that—holding space for the ugly truths without rushing to fill them.

“So when you say Adrian makes you angry,” she said carefully, “is it possible that what you're actually feeling is envy?”

“I'm not envious of Adrian Zhao. I’m the national champion.”

“Not of his talent. Of his freedom.”

Some days I'd rather be the pink haired rebel.

“He doesn't perform for anyone,” I said. “He just exists. Loudly and unapologetically. And somehow nothing falls apart.”

“And you've been performing for everyone. Quietly and perfectly. And things did fall apart.”