Thin Ice

The world was not perfect to Nilda, so she had to make herself perfect in the world. She looked at herself in the mirror and whispered, "Try harder. You can do this. It has to be perfect." Slowly she raised her right arm up, graceful, like a ballerina and pointed to the ceiling with her index finger. Then she did it again and again, still not satisfied with the way her hand unfolded. She studied the pictures she printed of famous hands as she compared them to hers. Michelangelo's God hands were her favorite. Hers were still not perfect.

Nilda stepped back from her mirror, leaned forward to stretch into an arabesque. She reached and stretched until her fingertip touched the edge of her vanity. She lost her balance and fell forward. "Shit, shit, shit!" Nilda looked long and hard at herself in the mirror. "Do it again, you moron." And that's just what she did, again and again. Beads of sweat fell from her forehead as she leaned forward into her arabesque; still she was not completely satisfied: her leg wasn't high enough, not enough turnout, arms not straight, hands to pointy. She struggled with the thought that she may never achieve perfection.

"Nilda! Breakfast!" Nilda's mom called out with an impatient voice. She braced herself for the impending argument yet to come.

"Not hungry, mom."

"Well, you have to eat something. You need your energy. Especially with all the hours you spend skating in the cold like you do."

"Mom, judges like a lithe figure. I have to look like a ballerina effortlessly gliding on the ice. I must gracefully bend like a willow blowing in the breeze."

"Just so you don't break like a limb in a breeze. Eat, please. I worry when you are out there all alone on the frozen pond. You don't wear enough clothes to keep a gnat warm and you are, in my opinion, looking too skinny."

"Are you a judge?"

"No, but..."

"Then your opinion does not count. I am just following the US Figure Skating guidelines. They say to take an active role in developing your skating skills. They say that by having a greater level of preparedness, I will have the opportunity to perform above test level expectations, and depending upon the degree of my achievement, be further recognized. I must meet the challenge myself! I have to be the best."

"But honey, you are."

"Not yet, but I will be. I will eat at the pond when I take a break. Is that okay with you? Just wrap it up and I will take it with me."

"Wonderful! It will make a good snack. It's full of protein. It will help keep you strong."

"Mom, I love you, but I really need to practice."

"How long will you be?"

"I don't know. I will be there until I get it right. I have to flow and skate without visible effort and with confident and controlled movements. I haven't mastered that yet. I still kind of look like I'm trying to take a shit on the ice. My face looks strained and red with a grimace and not a smile."

"I'm sure that is not entirely true. You are a natural, you always were. Remember how much you loved to skate when you were little? You laughed and smiled all day."

"That was for fun. Now, I am in competition with a checklist of 'need to do's' to even be considered worthy of their attention. Plus, you know, mom, I really want to be the best."

"I know, I know. I just wish you could spend more time with us or your friends."

"My friends don't get it. I feel uncomfortable around them, almost like they are just waiting for me to fail. But I am serious, I need to be the best."

"Then go practice."

"Love you, mom."

As soon as Nilda shut the door, she started to mumble, "Maybe I'm not good enough. Maybe I never will be. Maybe I am just a fraud and my friends already know it. I have to show them. First, I have to get better. Work harder. Challenge myself.

Nilda crunched through the snow on a worn path that she had made to her private pond. Her own personal space where she could fail. Where nobody could see her mistakes. It wasn't a very big pond, just a farm pond: a watering hole for the Jersey cows during the spring and summer. But it was big enough to practice her skating moves on and it dependably froze every cold Minnesota winter.

Nilda shoved her tripod as hard as she could into the ice-crusted snow. Her cheeks chafed as the sun glared back at her from the snow. She stared up at the sun, the one witness to all of her failures. "Just you wait and see." Nilda glared back at the sun. "Just you wait and see." Nilda set the camera on the tripod, peered at the view through the lens, then adjusted it until it captured the perfect spot to record her perfection.

She pulled out her check list from her batted goose down coat; figure eight, stroking, sit spin then the most difficult, the lutz. Her goal was to look effortless, lithe with ballerina arms that extended from her shoulders to a perfect hand; maximum length of all body lines, just like the handbook said. She hesitated at the thought of taking off her warm coat, but it had to be done. No way could she see her body lines through that bulky coat. For an added touch, today she chose to wear a soft blue chiffon skirt tied around her waist that moved gently against any breeze.

Nilda swizzled onto the ice, made an abrupt turn toward the camera and stopped. She froze like a statue, stared back at the camera, her harshest judge, then slowly raised her right arm. She pushed off to warm up; practiced her stroking, extended her glide. The pale blue skirt clung to the front of her thighs as the back billowed behind her. Her head echoed the words, arms then legs, arms then legs, arms then legs, as she skated around and around the pond. She smiled in confidence, then immediately chided herself. "Focus on the moves, Nilda. Focus on the moves."

At least the ice was perfect today. She skated across it with effortless ease as she gained speed with each stroke. Nilda turned into a lay back spin, arched her back as far as she could, then reached for the sky with her arms, one at a time. "Michelangelo hands, Michelangelo hands," she repeated over and over again. She broke out of the spin, stroked one time around the frozen pond, then came back to the center. She leapt into a sit spin, grabbed her leg to pull her chin down to her knee. "Closer to the ice, closer to the ice." She spun until her left leg began to ache. Using the momentum of her spin and her arms, she pulled herself back up.

Nilda stopped, rested her arms at her side, looked at the ice under her feet and shook her head. She should have been able to spin longer. She swizzled toward the camera, stepped onto the snowy bank and sat down on her goose down coat. She looked off into the distance as she felt the silence of winter surround her. The camera grew cold in her hands as she procrastinated. She wanted to look, but also, she didn't want to look. The errors haunted her.

Finally, she pushed the rewind button and stared at the imposter skating on the ice. The girl glided around the frozen pond both graceful and strong all at the same time. The light blue chiffon skirt billowed gently as if a light breeze was trapped underneath it. The girl spun and turned like a ballerina on a mirrored music box.

Nilda pushed the rewind button again. This time with scrutiny. She played it over and over again determined to find the errors which she knew had to be there. Sure enough, she found them. Her hands looked like frozen claws trying to grab at invisible apples in the sky. In her sit spin, her leg needed more extension, it was slightly bent. And what was with the grimace on her face! She still looked like she was trying to take a shit on the ice! "Stop holding your breath, Nilda. It looks like you're grunting."

With shame in her heart, she headed back out onto the ice. She could do better. She practiced for hours still not satisfied. Her lutz was clumsy, she needed to bring her arms in faster, she wobbled when she landed. She cried as she sat on her goose down coat trying to eat a few bites of the snack that her mom made her. Doubt crept over her the longer she sat; a slow dark cloud that hovered just over her. "What if I'm just not good enough? What if I never will be? What will everyone say?" What if...what if...then Nilda screamed as loud and long as she could.

"Okay, Nilda. That's enough. Get up. Quit feeling sorry for yourself. You can do this. A quitter never wins. Get going and practice, practice, practice. It's a challenge that you can win. Just concentrate, it's easy."

Nilda got up, determination her guide back to the frozen pond. She extended her stroke as she floated around the frozen pond. She mentally went through all of her mistakes that she had seen in the camera. Her strength and confidence grew stronger with each stroke. For just an instant, she felt like a real skater not some 'wanna be' or phony. Nilda performed for the camera with a perfect lay back spin, then a sit spin. She even smiled, ever so slightly, while she spun with her chin pressed to her knee. She turned to skate backwards for her lutz. The light blue chiffon skirt that now billowed in front of her lightly touched her hand. She leaped up into the air, spun around three times to land a perfect triple lutz.

The sun smiled at her as it watched her fall through the ice. The jolt of the cold water turned Nilda's smile into a shocked expression. The pale blue skirt billowed up around her shoulders aiding neither comfort nor warmth. Nilda clawed at the ice as she tried to get out of the water. Her hands were useless, they just slipped back into the water. Nilda's mind raced for answers to her panic. If I could just get closer to the edge of the bank. If I could just grab the ice with my fingernails. Maybe I could touch the bottom of the pond and jump up. "You can do this. Try harder, Nilda."

The blue chiffon skirt slowly rippled back down around Nilda as she slowly stopped moving. It graced her like an upside-down flower; gently it moved around her perfectly extended legs. Nilda reached up with her right hand as if to grab the sky to help pull her up and out of the pond. Then she pointed toward the camera, her hand in a perfect Michelangelo God's hand. The last thought that crossed her mind was, "I did it...see? It's all right there on the camera. I'm perfect. I am a real skater, no phony am I."