A strange calm shrouded me as the warm-up ended. I nodded to everyone who expressed concern, letting Manon whisk me to the medics. Bill appeared at one point, and I assured them not to worry.

They texted my mom in the stands to let them know I was okay, and I smiled to think of how Sam would likely tease me about being a drama queen after all. Obaachan would pinch me and say to watch where I was going. Then she’d yank me down for a hug.

In Toronto, Ojiichan was watching on TV. I asked Manon to remind my parents to call the facility and make sure he knew I was all right. Surely my parents already had, but just in case.

We’d had a family lunch yesterday downtown in Calgary, though I wouldn’t see them again until after the free skate in two days. I had to stay focused. I was all right. This was my moment.

I was the fourth skater of six in the flight, so I had time to catch my breath after the collision, but not too much time that the adrenaline would wear off and pain would take over.

As the skater before me—who happened to be Massimo—finished, I waited by the gate with Manon. Normally, I’d analyze the response of the audience to determine how well a competitor had performed, but it was like my ears were stuffed with cotton.

While he exited to the Kiss and Cry, I took the ice, skating three laps and relaxing into my knees. Massimo’s score and placement washed over me as I stood at the boards with Manon on the other side.

“This is your time, Henry. Stay in your center. Let your body do what it knows how to do. What you’ve trained it to do. Don’t think. No doubts. Let the crowd love you.” She grasped my hands and squeezed.

My name filled the arena along with a roar of applause. Of love. Unbidden, an image of Theo’s beaming, generous smile expanded in my mind until it became too big.

I was left alone at center ice. A hush fell, thousands of people silent as I lowered my face in my starting position, arms at my sides.

Damien Rice’s “The Blower’s Daughter” played, calm and lyrical, the lilting melody emphasizing my soft, deep edges and glide that looked effortless but required strength, control, and power.

My first two jumping passes—the quad toe combo and triple Axel—felt like water flowing over timeworn stone. My quad Lutz out of footwork was in the second half of the program, garnering a ten percent bonus in the score. This would make or break me. A miss would knock me out of medal contention, and I tensed as I launched up.

I had to muscle out the landing, but it was on one foot and fully rotated. I extended my free leg, not getting the flow I would have liked on the running edge. It wasn’t perfect, which I hated, but I’d done it. I glided into my step sequence, losing myself in the swelling music, one step closer to gold.