The Straightest Figure Skater the World has Ever Seen

Today is a big day at the Steinkamp Villa. The day the newly founded figure skating team will be presented to an interesting set of potential sponsors accompanied by a selected group of journalists.

Richard Steinkamp flips one more time though the press folders, contemplating the pictures of his fifteen year old daughter Jenny, the renowned Swedish trainer Mats Johansson and the new boy in town, Roman Wild.

At the beginning, his wife's fierce determination to sign up Roman Wild as Jenny's male counterpart for the team had left him slightly puzzled. Why, of all young, talented, ambitious athletes the figure skating world had to offer, did it have to be this boy from the sticks? A nondescript youngster with hardly any professional training to speak of, and little to no experience when it came to performing in front of larger audiences. With a moron of a father that had to be fed tall tales to explain the frequent absence of his son from his hometown.

All of this smelled of trouble to Richard Steinkamp, who liked his things clear, easy and professional.

But now, looking at the images again, he has to admit, grudgingly, that his wife's instincts had been spot on. Figure skating, after all, is nothing that Richard Steinkamp claims to know much about. He is in this venture for business . And business, he is an expert on. That, and the complicated ego of his eldest daughter.

With proud fatherly eyes he looks at the bright confident smile on Jenny's finely chiseled face, her glossy dark hair, her flawlessly slender figure, her elegant poise. A pretty girl about to turn into a beautiful woman. The features and stature of the blond, fair skinned boy at her side, on the other hand, while being easy enough on the eye,were even less stunning than his sportive record. There is no doubt as to who will be the star of this team.

On closer inspection though, it becomes evident that being a nice contrast to Jenny's dramatic colour scheme is not everything there is to Roman Wild. The flirty look of his light blue eyes that comes with a coy boyish smile would go down well with the young girls who make up the majority of figure skating spectators, and that certain undefinedness about his characteristics might in fact be one of his assets: it should be easy to enough for future sponsors and advertisers to project any required idea and image onto this unspoiled face.

“For God's sake, Richard. Go and look for that silly skater boy.” Simone's tone of voice leaves no doubt that immediate action is required. “He's out in the garden somewhere, so go and get him, and make sure he looks presentable.”  Heaving a sigh, Richard shuffles the pictures back into the folder, picks up his jacket from the armrest of the settee, and steps out into the well-kept grounds of the Steinkamp Villa.

The evening air is chilly. A slight drizzle has set in, and although darkness is already falling, it does not take him long to make out the lonely figure of a teenage boy crouched under the shelter of the big old cherry tree. Roman's back rests against the trunk, his legs are pulled up tightly to his body, his arms slung around them, head resting on his knees.

--

How excited had he been this morning. And nervous. His mother had taken him to the railway station of their small Westerwald town. “Make sure to keep warm,” she had said, pulling his scarf a little tighter. Roman had tried to roll his eyes at her, but somehow through their circle they had stopped to rest questioningly on his mum's face. “You'll be doing fine,” she whispered, giving her son a reassuring smile, and, after a quick look over her shoulder, cupped his doubting face into her delicate hands and sent him off on his journey with a little tip of her nose against his.

Once Roman had settled down in his reserved seat on the train, he closed his eyes for a moment, still not sure if this was real or just one of his dream bubbles that was going to burst any minute.

--

But life did not let him down. A few hours later he found himself in the Steinkamp Villa, sitting at the big dining table, decked out in fine Rosenthal china, for a light early supper.  A selection of the same canapés and sweet delicacies that would be offered to the guests was spread out on silver plates. Because later , talking, not eating, would be expected from everyone assembled at this table here, with the possible exception of eight-year-old, pigtailed Vanessa, much to her dismay.

Roman helped himself to yet another one of the small sweet chocolate cakes, a fact that did not go unnoticed by Simone Steinkamp, who made a mental note of having to talk to the boy about his eating habits. Jenny's plate, on the other hand, had remained empty so far. Richard's attempt to nudge her into tasting at least one of those delicious raspberry slices had remained fruitless so far. Not good. He knew, that the fashion chain he had set his hopes on did not like their teenage models too skinny. ‘Prim and healthy’ was the look they were going after.

“C'mon girl, you have to eat something – just a tiny little sandwich, maybe,” he tried again, handing her the platter.  Jenny set it firmly aside. 

“Dad, I'm just not hungry, that's all!”

Giggles from Vanessa .  Simone's attention, eyebrow raised, was immediately on her. “Jenny's in love with Mats!” the little girl blurted out,pigtails bouncing, looking around the table triumphantly, eager for reactions.  Jenny glared at her younger sister , but quickly regained composure.

“So what? Roman is, too!”

An empty coffee cup shattered on the marble floor, brushed away by Roman's fending gesture that was to accompany his, “Not true!”. Mumbling a hasty excuse , he disappeared under the table to pick up the debris. Very slowly.

Exasperated, Simone rose from her chair. “Right, we don't have time for such nonsense now, everybody off. Get showered and dressed; back in the salon at seven o'clock sharp!”

--

In the falling darkness of the Steinkamp Villa's garden, Richard is cursing under his breath. Just what he needs: another complicated teenager in his life. Exhaling, he moves closer to him. Roman does not look up.

Richard Steinkamp has no experience when it comes to comforting a boy. So he does what he would do if it was one of his daughters cowering at the foot of the tree, as sometimes they would. He settles down on the grass next to Roman and puts an arm around his shoulders. He feels an alarming coldness, so he takes off his jacket and wraps it around the skater's skinny body, his hands reassuringly stroking Roman's back.

Roman Wild has no experience when it comes to being hugged by a man. So he pretends it’s his mother cradling him like she used to do when he was a little boy and one of his darker moods won possession over him. Not much use pretending, though. When he wraps his arms around Richard's body, laying down his forehead in the bend of his neck, there was no mistaking that he was holding on to a man.

He knows how wrong all this is, but he can't help himself. He moves up, poking his nose into his boss’s freshly starched shirt. With Richard gently patting his back, he wants to stay in that embrace forever. It feels good and warm and safe and strangely dangerous and exciting at the same time.

If this is what awaits him, should he become what his father chooses to call him all the time, maybe it wasn't such a bad thing after all. 

Richard lightly lifts up Roman's chin with his fingertips.  “Talk?”

Roman lowers his lashes again, his head slowly shaking, but Richard's encouraging “C'mon”  turns the movement into a cautious nod.

--

In the parlor of the Villa, Simone Steinkamp grows restless.  After having made sure that everything is in its right place for the reception, after having dressed up Vanessa and dressed down Jenny, all there is missing is her husband and fifty percent of the skating team.

She opens the sliding door that leads to the garden. She knows they have to be out there somewhere. “Richard, dammit, where are you! Get back in already, and bring that wretched boy with you – the guests will be here in twenty minutes!”

“Ready to go inside, then?”

The teenager nods.

There had been talk, from man to boy, from boy to man about families, fathers, fashion and finances, about hopes and dreams. They had reached an agreement.

Richard stretches out his hand and helps Roman to lift himself up from the damp ground. Having almost reached an upright position, the boy stumbles over one of the tree's roots, invisible in the darkness, and loses his balance. Richard catches his body in its fall and steadies it against his own. Roman pulls back immediately. Richard chuckles. Pitch dark as it is, he has an exact idea of the shade of colour, the teenagers face has just taken to.  A certain physical reaction of the boy's body has not escaped him.

Smirkingly, he puts his arm around Roman's shoulder again. “Don't worry, kid, I know I have this effect on people.” The boy looks up at the man with a bashful little half smile. Conspiratorial wink in his eye, Richard ruffles Roman's hair.  “C'mon buddy, let's go and see if the folks in there are ready to meet the straightest figure skater the world has ever seen.”