Page 63 of A Gold Medal in Love
“Shut up. I’m trying to get at something,” I grind out, but the harshness that I had when I first met Blake Floquet and thought they were a man who wandered into the wrong room has melted into something playful and fun.
Blake raises an eyebrow. “Is this regarding the ‘loving yourself’ you mentioned regarding your performance?”
“Mhm. I’ve decided to get treatment.” My hand drops from their tie, and I look away. “And even if I lose everything in the process, I think… I’ve already lost myself. So, if I can’t compete anymore, or if we were just two weeks, or if I get gross and fat, I don’t know.” I start crying again. “I don’t know. I just… did you know people die from this disorder?” I turn back to look at them, my eyes filled with tears.
“That’s a lot. We will start with the last part. Yes, Imani, I do know that. Why do you think I was insistent upon discussing it? I read the pamphlet that the doctor gave you,” Blake explains. “But what’s this about losing everything? I think that’s anxiety talking. You’re not going to lose anything unless you want to lose it.”
Fresh tears stream down my face. “What if I gain so much weight in treatment that I can’t jump anymore? And what happens when my body looks different? Will I like myself? Will you?”
“Jesus, Imani. Iloveyou, and it’s not because of the way you look in a skirt. I’m not going to pretend that I don’t love your body, but that’s such a low-ranking reason for why I love you. You could gain hundreds of pounds, and I would still chase that ass around, okay? But realistically, if you decide you still want to be an athlete, you will be. Gaining weight isn’t going to be debilitating; you’re going to put onmuscle. What if you become an even better skater? How about that?”
I change tack. “I might do really intensive treatment. Are you going to wait for me?”
“I’d wait forever for you,” Blake assures me, dipping their face down to get eye level with me.
“Good. I… want to be with you,” I begin, hedging.
Blake grins. “Oh, yeah?”
I nod. “I love you.”
“So… you’re saying I won a gold medal, too?” They smirk.
“What?” I ask in confusion.
Blake grabs my chin and turns my head to the screen where my numbers are displayed. “You just won a gold medal in women’s singles figure skating. But I just won a gold medal in love.”
My jaw drops as their words crash over me like a wave. I was so focused on our important conversation that I forgot for a second where we were, but the reality rushes into me now. More cameras swarm around me, and then a reporter is next to me, pushing a microphone into my face.
I have enough presence of mind to notice Blake attempting to slip away, so I fling a hand onto their thigh and dig my fingers in. “Stay close,” I demand. I trust them to stay as I turn back to the reporter.
“Imani Gray, how does it feel to win your first gold medal?” The woman asks, and I finally realize it’s Margot, the one I call the diet asshole reporter.
I sit tall, not bothering to wipe away my tears. Let them see me for who I am. “It feels incredible. It is simultaneously everything like I imagined and completely incomprehensible.” I laugh, feeling lightness take over. I have nothing to fear from this interview; I’m the world’s newest gold medalist. “Highly recommend to all the viewers.”
Margot blinks at me in surprise, then narrows her eyes. “There are so many things we want to know, Imani, and one of them is if it’s true that you fired your coach right before the singles event?”
Leaning into the microphone, I stare directly into her eyes. “That is true, Margot. Thanks for bringing it up.” At this, I’ve elicited more surprise. “It became apparent that Coach Lowell was not looking out for my best interests, and I decided that it was prudent that I let him go.”
“Coach Lowell has been reported as saying that you’re difficult to work with; that you’re an angry young woman with no direction and a misguided sense of where to place your passion,” Margot digs in.
I smile, but it’s not cutting; it’s as serene as the lilt of my voice when I open my mouth. “Dismissing a Black woman as angry, how novel. Coach Lowell was a bad actor, and when I finally came to my senses, I discovered that he was impeding my success instead of championing it.” Margot tries to butt in, but I’m not finished. “Here’s the thing. People can’t say shit about my skating, so they fall back on stereotypes. You can say I’m too loud, or my voice is too squeaky; you can try to hide behind racism and misogyny.” I turn to the camera and look out into the eyes of everyone who tries to wear me down and dull my shine. “I’m done pretending I’m not who I am. I’m the only Black figure skating Olympian. I’ve madehistory—it’s time I start acting like it. From now on, my costumes and songs are going to be truer tomyhistory, to who Iam, not who peoplewishI were.”
Margot visibly tries to regroup, finally settling on the beautiful individual next to me. She points to Blake, “Is this who we have to thank for these illuminating changes?”
Blake laughs. “No. Imani did this all on her own. You think anyone can make this woman be anything or anyone she doesn’t decide to be on her own? Nah, I’m just here to watch.”
I turn to Blake, beaming with love at their supportive answer that leaves me clearly in the limelight. I couldn’t have asked for a more perfect partner.
But Margot isn’t done. “Don’t you mean to fall in love with? There are pretty pervasive rumors that you’re obsessed with the untouchable figure skater.”
I decide to answer this one. “Well, Margot, let’s put those rumors to bed. Blake isn’t just obsessed with me; the feeling, actually, is very mutual.”
When I grab Blake’s tie and pull them in for a kiss, I hear a delighted gasp of laughter before our lips meet, and their hands come up to frame my face. The kiss is everything I said to them before, and more: I love you, I want you, be mine, stand by me, dominate me, let me worship you, please worship me. I beg with my lips, teeth, and tongue for forever.
Blake pulls their face away, still cradling mine with their hands, and I see tears in their eyes. “Yes, Cupcake. Forever.”
“Are you ever going to stop reading my mind?” I grumble.