by Lucia Franco
I wanted so badly to ask him what his deal was, but that would require actually speaking to him alone, and I didn't want to. I didn't want to show him concern or give him the chance for the conversation to go in a different direction. If I did, then I would weaken and cave. I didn't want to do that when I was struggling already to keep it together on the outside.
By late Thursday afternoon it was starting to bother me, especially since I had a meet coming up in less than two days. Madeline wasn't even riding me, and between both of them, my stomach was churning with self-doubt. I was past the point of being stressed out and was now slipping with insecurity. I felt like I wasn't doing enough, but I still refused to speak to him, so instead I pulled out the notebook and asked him one question.
Why are you being soft on me? I don't like it. Push me like you used to.
I slipped the notebook into his desk drawer, not expecting a response that night, but much to my surprise, he had replied before practice ended and left it in my bag. Thank goodness I'd read it at home and not before I got into my truck, because not only did I reread his previous note saying he was eternally sorry, the one he'd written before I’d thrown the book at his head, but his new, stupid response made me tear up.
You do not need it. You have been practicing better than ever before. I am in awe and cannot wait to see you compete this weekend.
As I sat on my bed fighting the urge to text him, my phone vibrated in my hand. I frowned, not recognizing the number and let it go. After listening to the voicemail, I realized it was my doctor calling from a different phone number. It sounded a little urgent so I called back immediately, only to get sent to their voicemail. I'd call her back again tomorrow.
I stared at my phone, debating whether to send Kova a text or not. He wasn't the type to lighten a workload when things were going well. Easy was not in his vocabulary. It was always go, go, go, especially during meet season. For him to write what he had did nothing to ease my worries. The last thing I needed was mind games before a competition, and Kova was king when it came to them. Taking the notebook, I shoved it into my nightstand and slammed the drawer shut.
Against my better judgment and my previous "No Contact" rule, I started to text Kova, but right before I hit send, a raging headache tore through my skull and the pressure in my eye sockets ached from the light in the room. It pierced right through me, and I gasped so hard I started coughing. I threw my phone down on my bed and immediately got up to turn out the lights.
Ten minutes later I was almost writing in agony. The headache was so severe that my entire body felt heavy and sore. I could barely move. I couldn't focus on anything but the searing pain, which only intensified as the seconds passed.
I gave up and called Kova. Not texted. I needed help quickly and I knew he'd have an answer. He better, since I couldn't take Motrin like I wanted to.
He picked up on the second ring. "Adrianna?" His voice was groggy.
"I'm sorry to wake you, Coach, but I need your help."
"What is wrong? Are you okay?"
His tone turned to concern. I heard some shuffling in the background and Katja speaking in Russian.
"Yes, I'm okay, but I need to ask you a question."
"Okay. Hang on." Kova’s voice was muffled for a second as he spoke off to the side, responding to his wife. "What is going on?" he asked.
"I didn't want to call, but I have an excruciating headache that came out of nowhere and my body is aching. Even my joints hurt so bad. I know you said I can't take any anti-inflammatory, but what can I do? I have a cold wet rag on my head but it's not helping. I think I have the flu."
"Why do your joints hurt?"
"I don’t know, they just do."
"That is not normal, Adrianna. You have not done anything extra or out of the ordinary this week. Your body should not ache so badly."
I clenched my eyes shut. "I'm well aware of that. Thanks." I deadpanned. "Can I take Tylenol? What about Excedrin?"
"I would rather you not take any of that. Do you happen to have Epsom salt?"
"I don’t know, let me go look."
"While you are looking, why are you up so late? You should be sleeping. Your body needs the rest."
I walked into my bathroom and squatted down to look under the sink for the bath salts without turning the light on. I shuffled some things around, but it was too dark to read labels.
"I'm tired, but I just can't sleep," I replied.
"But you have to try. You have practice in five hours."
"Yeah, I know."
When I couldn't find the salt, I flipped on the light and instantly felt sick. I groaned, holding my stomach, praying I didn't start vomiting. I almost dropped my cell phone.
"What was that?" he asked, worry in his voice.
"I had the lights off because of the headache, but I think I'm sensitive to the strong glare or something because this has been happening lately. When I turned the bathroom light on, it shot straight through me." I resumed looking and found it. "Got it. It says Epsom salt with soothing lavender…" My voice trailed off. I don’t remember buying this.
"Perfect. I want you to take a lukewarm bath with the salt, nothing scalding hot that will burn your skin. Turn the lights off and light some candles. Lord knows you have plenty," he mumbled.
Sadness streaked through me at that. He did know me. I did have a lot of candles around my condo, almost on every surface.
"No medicine, though?" I asked, hopeful.
"No. You need to stop relying on that stuff anyway. You take far too much and are going to destroy your organs. I told you that you looked pale—"
Before Kova could continue, he was cut off by Katja. She was shooting off in Russian and speaking a mile a minute. Her voice rose, the pitch getting higher and higher. Kova cut her off and their voices became muffled.
They were arguing like they always seemed to. I could slightly sympathize with Katja. Slightly. It was late at night and another woman was calling her husband. If it were anyone else, I could understand her issue, but I was his gymnast, so I wasn't sure why she sounded so irate. I needed help, and he had to give it to me.
My stomach knotted and I tried to focus on something other than the cramps when I caught sight of a large clump of hair on the floor. My fingers pressed into the side of the tub. There were a lot, and I wondered how I hadn't noticed them before. I reached for my hair and tunneled my fingers through it, slowly pulling until I reached the end. Opening my hand, I saw that more strands had fallen out.
A door slammed through the phone and then Kova was back. It sounded like he was putting a few cubes of ice into a glass and for some strange reason I found something intimate about it.
"You know how you looked pale on Monday?"
"Yes. I know. You told me. What would you like me to do? Wear blush?"
He sighed into the phone. "Why do you get defensive?"
"I don't get defensive. I just don't care that I look pale. I'm not trying to impress anyone anyway, so what does it matter?"
"You are not sleeping, and your body aches when it should not. You do not look well. Do not blame me for being concerned."
I changed the subject. "How long do I soak for?" I didn't look well for a reason, and we'd done this song and dance before. I was not going back to it.
"Until it gets cold."
"Hang on," I said. I grabbed my candles, lit them, then stripped my clothes off and got into the tub. "I hate baths, by the way."
"I never understood why women take them, to be honest," he said. "You are soaking in your own filth."
A sad laugh unexpectedly rolled off my lips. "That’s how I see it too. I would never take one if I didn't have to." I realized I was laughing with him and hardened my heart again.
"You put in what you have to now, even if you hate it, and you will be successful. Time, pain, your body. Your mind. It will all be worth it. One day you will wake up and ask yourself how you did it. Kak vy popali iz tochki v tochku A v tochku Z, got from point
A to point Z. You will look back and question yourself over and over, and it will baffle you because you really will not know. You will feel good that you did not give in when shit got rough. I do that now. I have no idea how the hell I accomplished what I did. I cannot answer it, it is all a blur, but what matters is that I achieved my goals. You will feel the same way one day. I do not know of any pro athlete who regrets putting in the work. The result makes it all worth it."
I swallowed, thinking about what he said. I'd already spoken to him enough and gave him too much of my time.
Softly, I said, "I'm gonna go now. I'm sorry for waking you up, and I'm sorry for Katja getting mad. I'll see you tomorrow."
"Wait."
I paused, waiting, breathing hard but slow. I should hang up.
"Bye, Coa—"
"I did not go soft on you this week." He quickly got out. "You trained exceptionally well. Better than ever before. If I felt for a second that you needed more, you should know by now that I would never hold back, regardless of what happened between us. Inside World Cup, we are coach and athlete. Nothing more. Outside those doors, we are a big fucking mess that makes no sense. If that makes me an asshole, then so be it. I do not give a fuck. We already knew I was anyway. But I know what this, gymnastics, means to you. I would never take that from you. Ever. If anything, I would only push you harder."
I heard him take a sip of something and place his glass down. We were supposed to have nothing but honesty between us from the beginning, and now I questioned every word that left his sinful lips. He pacified me with fabricated words and feelings I craved from someone who I thought cared about me.
Lifting the stopper with my toes, I let the water drain and said, "I'll see you tomorrow afternoon. Bye, Coach."
* * *
I chalked up my hands then spit on my palms before submerging them back into the huge chalk bowl once more. I moved them around under the mound of powdery chalk to build up a thick coat, clapped my hands together, and then pulled on my grips. Leaning my face into my shoulder, I coughed.
With vault under my belt, I had three rotations left for this competition: Bars, beam, then floor.
I was in first place after one rotation, which wasn't really a surprise. Vault was my specialty, and very few gymnasts could do what I could with a clean landing. I was only two-tenths away from a perfect score, but I'd take it. I had worked hard for that vault, no one was going to take it from me.
"Do you want me to spot you?" Kova asked when he walked up to the bowl.
I shook my head, flexing my fingers to make sure my grips were on just right. "Nope. I got this."
"Are you sure? I can be there if you need me, or if you would rather Madeline, she can as well."
It would be nice to fuck with Kova and have Madeline in his place, but I wouldn’t go there. This was too important for both of us to play childish games.
"I'm good, Coach. Thanks," I replied as if I was talking about the weather.
Kova stared at me for a long moment, not blinking once. "Okay. If that is what you want."
"What I want never matters." With a saccharine smile, I walked away.
I was surprised by how much Kova had backed off. He hadn't so much as been flirty, or shown me a sarcastic side of him, and he hadn't given me any encouraging pep talks before each event. Even though I did sort of miss those little moments with him, I was relieved. It was helping me focus.
Between arriving at his house last night with the team, flying out of state, to now, we’d spoken maybe five words to each other. That showed me he had at least an ounce of respect for my boundaries.
Baby steps.
Reagan landed her dismount, her feet slamming into the mat. Chalk rebounded around her calves as she saluted the judges.
Taking a deep breath, I walked onto the mat and stared at the uneven bars, visualizing my routine. I let everything roll off my shoulders and exhaled what little nerves I had left.
My dismount was more difficult than Reagan's, but her routine had a slight edge over mine. It really came down to execution. Come next week, though, I had planned to add another element or two and a change to my dismount that would kick up my difficulty score by a lot. Once I mastered those skills, which shouldn't take more than a week, I'd outrank my teammates on vault and bars. I also had plans to add one more tweak to my floor routine that would put me in a league of my own.
Until then, now was the time to risk it all and do whatever it took to prove I had it in me to go the extra ten miles.
The judges gave me the green light and I raised my arms. Clearing my mind, I mounted the low bar. I had approximately forty seconds to complete seventeen skills effortlessly while floating from one bar to the next. With pirouettes and twists, and multiple release moves paired together for extra points, I pushed hard and moved freely and elegantly between the six-foot-width distance. My form was tight, with my body elongated in handstands, and toes pointed. I prepared for my dismount, tapping hard to gain momentum, and released on my second rotation. I soared through the air, flipping backwards and twisting, knowing in the back of my head I had to reach a height and distance acceptable for max points. Spotting the ground, I landed, sticking my dismount with both feet together. I swallowed, saluted the judges, and finally exhaled.
I felt good, really good.
Trying to catch my breath, I walked off the mat and peeled back the Velcro strips of my grips and replayed my routine, wondering if anything was off. I stepped down from the platform, shoving one grip and wristband under my arm when Kova rushed up to me with wide, wild eyes.
I glanced up and my movements slowed. Dread filled my stomach. Shit.
"How bad," I croaked.
His brows furrowed and he pulled back. "Bad? No." He almost laughed. "Not bad at all."
"Then why do you look so panicked?"
"I am speechless."
I pulled off my other grip and walked around him toward my duffle bag. "Your words are not matching your expression," I said sarcastically. "I hate when you get like this."
He brushed my comment off. "Between vault, and now bars, I just have never seen you perform so… incredibly."
I looked at him in confusion. "I've done well at previous meets, though."
"Yes, but not like this. This is perfection. This is not holding back. This is showing no fear. This is flawless and impossible to look away from."
His eyes were wide, luminous from excitement. I watched him pace as he spoke like he was in awe of my performance. A sliver of excitement curled in my veins. I felt his pull, the energy radiating off him. I looked at him and I knew I wore the same zealous look in his eyes. We were both bursting with triumph, though still reserved.
"Oh…thanks," I said, and went back to my duffle bag.
His eyes narrowed. Just as Kova opened his mouth to speak, the crowd exploded around us. My back straightened with his and we glanced around trying to figure out why they were roaring.
Kova's lips parted. I couldn't remember a time seeing his jaw slowly fall or his eyes enlarge like that. I followed his gaze and looked ahead.
Oh.
Oh.
Next to my name, and the event, was my score.
I almost didn't believe what I was seeing. I blinked again and looked.
I'd scored the maximum points allowed. For the first time, I'd gotten a perfect score, and I didn't know how to react, but Kova sure did.
He threw his arms in the air, his hands in fists like he’d just crossed a finish line. He spun around, looked down, and immediately caged me in a tight hug and hoisted me up.
"I told you. Flawless," he said, so damn happy in my ear. I had no choice but to go with it. His heart was pounding so hard against his chest I could feel it hitting mine. "You got a perfect score, and the first perfect score of the elite season. Do you have any idea how big this is?"
Jaw slacked, I shook my head in disbelief. A perfect score was a big deal, I just didn't know how to process such an achievement.
&nbs
p; "Wow," I said under my breath.
He yanked me back, perplexed. "Wow? That is all you can say?" I glanced at the scoreboard again and felt the faintest smile tip the corner of my lips. "I am so damn proud of you," he said, pulling me back in for a hug so tight I grunted, then he put me down. My teammates and Madeline came over and high-fived me, congratulating me, and then we moved on to the next rotation.
I had to admit, it felt good to be the first elite of the season to obtain a perfect score, but I wasn't going to get my hopes up. Getting a score like that, where I maxed out on both the difficulty and execution categories, took a ton of effort and was not often seen twice from a gymnast at the same meet. It wasn't unheard of, just almost impossible to attain.
Floor came next, my favorite event. I decided I wasn't going to watch my team or anyone for that matter while I waited and warmed up.
"Do you need anything," Kova asked, walking up to me. Energy was radiating off him. "Feel confident?"
I shook my head and pursed my lips together. "I'm good."
Hands on hips, he squared his stance. "Perform like you have nothing to lose."
"I don't," I responded quickly. "I have nothing to lose. I'm going to do whatever it takes."
"Do not forget to smile."
I flashed a fake smile and his eyes twinkled. I wouldn’t forget. Gymnastics was the whole reason why I smiled. Patting on a little chalk between my thighs and then some on my hands, I exhaled a tense breath and mentally prepared when I heard the warning sound.
Walking around Kova, I walked up the steps and onto the blue carpeted floor, toes pointed, I took my position and felt my soul come alive.
Floor was my absolute favorite. I'd done this routine hundreds of times and could perform it in my sleep. Now I was going to show the gymnastics world just how much I loved this sport, how much it meant to me, all with a healthy dose of cockiness. If I was going to win this event, I needed to prove it with a little sass and pride. I was going to move the world with my body.
The music chimed and I blocked out the background noise, letting my body take over. Through muscle memory, all those dreadful ballet classes, and hours upon hours of practice, I released every fiber in me. I danced light on my toes from corner to corner, allowing my passion to shine through. Balletic, effortless grace, whimsical body lines. With floor, it forced me to feel emotions whether I wanted to or not, and I needed that. I needed that release.
