What I Paid For by Lorraine Hanlon Comanor
Fifteen years after the War’s end, Mother brings me to Oberstdorf, a postcard Bavarian town, to take my German gold figure skating test. At fourteen, I’ve already jumped through this hoop in three other countries, but Mother says it’s important to be known by international judges.
The rink, chilly coming from the Allgäu summer sun. I find my patch of ice and start practicing. Inge, a local skater, approaches to ask if she can take the test with me, share expenses.
A welcome offer. Her presence will cut the cost and give me time between test figures.
The head judge summons me to a bunker-like lounge, reminding me that Oberstdorf was once a Wehrmacht training ground. Worried about my wobbly German, I’m not eager for this conversation.
A portly man who towers over me, he introduces himself as Herr Rudi Marx, smiles, and clicks his heels. We meet tomorrow at eight on the dot. I will complete all forty-one competitive figures; Inge will execute only the twelve in the gold test. I’ll pay for both of us.
“Inge offered to split expenses.” I pull myself to my full 5’ 6,” confident I’ve understood him.
“She’s our girl. She will not pay. You will pay.” He grows another three centimeters, as do the walls in this windowless Block 11.
“But she offered.” My voice, softer. In my scant stretch leotard, I shrink like Alice after taking a swig from the medicine bottle.
“You will pay for her.” His heels click again. His shoes, suddenly Marschtiefel, his grey sports jacket, Feldgrau.
I run out of the room to explain the situation to Mother, waiting in the bleachers.
“Let’s leave. No test is worth being threatened by a Nazi.”
“You’ll do no such thing.” She looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. “He could sink you at the world championships. You go back and tell him you’d be delighted to pay for Inge.”
Which I reluctantly did, leaving Oberstdorf post haste after passing the test. Rudi Marx didn’t judge at Worlds. I wish he had, so I could’ve known what I’d paid for.
Artist’s Statement
Climbing the figure skating ladder as a child, I learned early to set aside personal preferences, even core values, to court judges’ approval. Over a lifetime, these bitter lessons would receive a mixed review.
Lorraine Hanlon Comanor is a former U.S. figure skating champion and U.S. team member. A graduate of Harvard University, Stanford University School of Medicine, and the Bennington Writing Seminars, she is a board-certified anesthesiologist and author or co-author of 35 medical publications. Her personal essays have appeared in the NER ( Pushcart nominee), Boulevard (Notable Best American Essays 2020), New Letters, Little Patuxtent Review, Ravens Perch, Ruminate, Gold Man Review, The Writing Disorder, Book of Matches, Deep Wild, Apple in the Dark, Consequence, Creation, Burningwood Literary Journal, Joyland Magazine, and The Healing Muse with work forthcoming in Unstamatic, Litro, Talking River Review, and The Rumpus.