Page 16 of Mafia and Scars

“A little later we can.” I haven’t heard anything since we left nearly two days ago. That’s not uncommon for Geliy. He’ll just up and disappear for days, weeks on end and come back ragged from whatever job he’s been on. But this time, he’s supposed to be taking care of Leon, and that’s causing my anxiety to rise.

Sofia talks through the meal. The tension on her face is gone, and some of that stress in my body goes with it.

After we’ve eaten, we get a taxi to the rink. Sofia is quiet, her gaze glued to the window as the city passes by in a blur of nightlife.

“No one is here,” she says when we reach the rink where I’ll start coaching tomorrow.

“Some people are.” I point out a few cars of people who must be practicing this evening. “I have to check on a few things, but then we can skate for a little and then go to the hotel to get some sleep. Sound good?”

Sofia perks up at the mention of skating. “Okay, Mama!”

I usher Sofia through the automatic doors. Cold air hits us, and a feeling of déjà vu washes over me. The lights are soft, and the plush carpet is something straight out of a nineties movie theater, but it does its job. No one is really looking at the carpet when they come to the rink.

“Go on and get your skates on. I’ll be in there just for a few minutes.” I point to the office window where a burly-looking man on the phone sits. Sofia nods and begins to rummage through my bag.

With one last look at her, I start toward the office. The hairs on the back of my neck prickle as I walk, like someone is watching me…

Subtly, I glance over my shoulder, but I find no one there.

I shake my head. It’s just being here again that’s making me feel like this. The ghosts of the past lingering.

I put on a sunny smile as the man on the phone levels a glare in my direction and barks some kind of greeting to me.

I sign the paperwork for the coaching job. Three weeks. That’s all, and it’ll give me enough money to make it through the next couple of months while I try to find a new job in Vegas. The generous salary they’re paying me will even cover a part-time babysitter while I’m working here for them.

On my way back to Sofia, I check my phone. I see that I have at least six texts from Geliy’s mother, Olga. After I got together with Geliy, her personal mission became to bombard me with messages, criticizing everything from how I was with her son to how I raised our children. And even though I am no longer with Geliy, she has carried on with this. I skim the latest texts.

“How could you go off and leave the baby with my poor son?”

“Geliy has too much on his plate for you to expect him to look after your baby.”

“A woman’s place is in the home. She shouldn’t be abandoning her duties.”

“I wish my precious son never met you!”

“Geliy deserves a real woman who will look after him.”

“You expect too much from my son. You are always selfish and self-centered.”

I delete all the messages with a sigh.

Sofia’s small feet swing slowly as she sits on the bench, her eyes moving around the rink. “Ready, baby?” I ask.

“Uh-huh.” She scoots over so I can sit beside her and slide my own skates on. Once more, I feel it. That prickle of having eyes following you.

I shake my head and tell myself to stop being paranoid.

For a few moments, I look around at the rink and just breathe. This is still my sanctuary, even with all the bad memories. There’s something about the silence of ice that speaks to my soul.

I think about the little girl I was, who used to pretend she was a princess gliding through a frozen kingdom. Before I learned that dreams could be weaponized against you. Before I understood that loving something meant giving others power to hurt you.

But watching these young figure skaters train, I remember why I became a coach. It’s not just about technique or perfect form. It’s about teaching them that their bodies can be instruments of beauty, not just objects to be criticized. It’s about helping them find their own magic on the ice.

Some people might think it’s ironic—me teaching others to pursue the very thing that broke me. But I see it differently. I’m teaching them to love figure skating the way I wish I could have. I’m giving them the coach I needed but never had.

We start to move toward the ice. “Will you teach me to do the spin now, Mama?”

I smile down at her. “You think you’re ready?”