by Lucia Franco
Her time at the camp and, possibly, the national team was through.
I was up next.
I had to perform a forward tumbling pass, which I always dreaded. Elena nodded and I took off—front handspring, front layout, double front twist. The goal was to add a leap at the end of the sequence for bonus points, but midway through my front layout, after punching my feet into the floor, I felt the fire of a thousand flames soar through my ankle up to my calf. Pain exploded inside my leg. I knew I only had milliseconds to decide if I would continue with my actual pass or water it down to play it safe.
I had to be a fool to water it down after what I’d just witnessed.
With my legs together and body as straight as a board, I punched the ground again and soared as high as I could. I brought down one arm and pulled tight, rotating as hard as I could to throw a double full twist.
The searing pain shooting up my leg cost me my breath. I thought I felt a snap, but I wasn't sure. My leg cramped up and bent, and my landing was nowhere near what it needed to be in order to add a leap at the end. Still, I persevered, knowing if I panicked mid-flight it would only make things worse for myself.
Landing, I rebounded high with my chest and shoulders relaxed and added the bonus leap as gracefully as possible. When I finished, I snapped my legs back together and landed lightly, when what I really wanted to do was drop to the floor in a ball from the inflamed heat that stole my breath. All I could do was bite down on the inside of my lip to conceal the pain exploding through my veins. I tasted blood, but it wasn't enough. My stomach with knots from the pain and I thought I was going to be sick.
"Your back has to be arched more through the layout to execute the double full with a straight back. It is more effective for twisting. Do it again," Coach Elena ordered. I nodded, but I didn't mistake the wandering gaze of her keen eyes to my legs. She was looking for the slightest imperfection, but she wasn't going to get it from me. I'd make sure of it, no matter what it cost me.
Her eyes were glued to me. "Now."
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
It took everything in me not to limp my way back. My fingers curled into my palms. The agony ricocheting through my body was unlike anything I'd ever experienced before, yet, by the grace of God, I managed to walk like I was striding on water with a straight face and not a care in the world. A quick glance down and everything I suspected told me I was right on the money.
I sighed deeply. On the inside of my foot, below my swollen ankle, a light bruise was forming. A telltale sign of a severely injured Achilles.
With my heels in the corner of the white tape, I took a deep breath and wished for the best. My plan was to land as softly as I possibly could on my toes and apply the weight to my good leg.
Swallowing back my trepidation, I shot her a fleeting look before I raised up on my toes and sprinted across the floor with one goal in mind, to show Coach Elena I had what it took. I might not be needed on beam since I was selected as a bars, floor, and vault specialist, but with gymnastics, anything was possible, so I still had to work my ass off to prove I was equipped to handle anything thrown my way. Most gymnasts typically added difficulty to their earlier tumbling passes to get it out of the way, but mine was at the end, which was incredibly challenging. Hopefully that would speak volumes to Coach Elena.
Focusing, I blocked out the pain and completed the tumbling pass with the bonus leap at the end. The pain shooting through my calf was horrific and I thought I was going to vomit. It took my breath away, but I clenched my stomach muscles and turned toward Coach Elena, making sure there was no emotion on my face.
"Again. We will do it twenty more times if we have to." She paused. "And, Adrianna?"
"Yes?"
She glared at me. Air lodged in my throat. "Remember what I said. Deal with it."
I nodded fervently and got back in line, breathing deeply as I tried not to hone in on the pain. I was on the verge of tears, but being handpicked to participate at this training camp was a huge deal and not something I would forfeit.
Countless passes later, and intense conditioning, I barely made it back to my room in one piece. I didn't limp, but the moment I shut the door, I crumbled on my bed and sobbed. Holding my bruised and severely swollen ankle, I prayed the physical and emotional destruction I was putting myself through would be worth it.
Gymnasts went to camp with hopes and dreams, and left broken and traumatized.
Some beyond repair.
* * *
"Is everything okay, Adrianna? You look terrible," Kova said as he walked up to me.
"I just got off the airplane and that's the first thing you say to me? Really?"
I glanced down at what he saw. I wore white Converse sneakers, rolled-up jean shorts, and a loose, black shirt with the words THIS IS MY HANDSTAND SHIRT printed upside down. I didn't think I looked bad. All that was missing was a tan.
He frowned, his shoulders tight and jaw set firm. Glancing into his eyes, I couldn't get a bead on what he was thinking. There was no spark in them like usual. Kova was completely closed off and that raised questions.
"I told you they starve us. You don't listen."
His face scrunched up, but he wasn't being rude. He just looked completely puzzled. "You look…disgustingly thin, and kind of transparent. I almost believe it."
I brushed him off. "There went your attractiveness." He shrugged casually. "I know English isn't your first language, but where's your etiquette? My joints are as stiff as steel, and you have a stick up your ass. I don't need this after the week I just had, that's for sure."
Kova smirked and I felt a flutter in my stomach. "And you ask where my etiquette is?" he teased. "I say it like it is. Are you hungry?"
"Nice to see you too."
"Aside from the skin and bones, I see you are in better shape this time and do not need to be carried out."
"I didn't need it the first time either," I lied, looking into his eyes and fighting a smirk. I had needed it, and I desperately needed it now. I gathered he knew that much but was letting me be independent for once. "That was your barbaric, caveman side coming out."
The back of Kova's knuckles gently grazed my cheekbone, his eyes roaming my face. I stared up at him, catching a swirl of emotion in his eyes. "You have makeup on. You never wear that crap on your face. I do not like it." Lowering his voice, he said, "I like you natural. Wash it off."
Shaking my head, I walked around him toward the exit. He fell in stride next to me and I groaned under my breath. "Who pissed in your vodka?"
Kova looked over at me, the smallest grin tugging the corner of his mouth. "You Americans," he said. "No one touches my vodka."
I turned my head in the other direction so Kova wouldn't see me smile. He was a true Russian and loved his vodka.
We got to his car and I waited for him to unlock the doors. When I tugged on the handle and the door didn't budge, I stood on my toes and moved to look over the hood at him. Kova just stared back at me.
"Something feels off. What are you hiding?" he asked, his green eyes narrowing.
"What are you hiding?" I retorted sarcastically.
"There is something different about you," he stated.
"There is something different about you."
I’d missed a call from my doctor's office yesterday. They'd left a message asking me to come in as soon as possible. It had been on my mind all last night and the entire plane ride home today. Between that and my Achilles, I'd had better days. My calf was like a ball of heated sparks bursting with each step I took and I struggled to hide my limp from him.
I yanked on the door impatiently. "Please, just open the door. I'm tired and I want to go home." I was fighting to keep my eyes open, but he didn't budge. "Come on, Coach." I sighed dramatically and he finally unlocked the doors. Climbing in, I sat down and relished the softness of his leather seats, hiding the suffering pain that consumed my ragged body. I let out a long, drained sigh that made Kova look at me in concern.
"Thank you for picking me up," I said. He just gave me a subtle nod.
Kova pulled out of the parking lot with one hand on the steering wheel and one hand on the gearshift. Something was bothering him, and I could sense he was in a fickle mood. I gathered it didn't have anything to do with me, but every couple of stoplights he would look my way. I could feel the heat of his gaze on my face coming from under his baseball cap, and even though I didn't ask what was on his mind, I went on instinct. Reaching out, I placed my hand over his and he immediately turned his over to lace our fingers together. The tension coming from him dissipated and that made me feel better.
"I know today is your annual Fourth of July barbeque, but would it be okay if I skipped it? I really just want to go home and rest."
Kova flipped his blinker on, then made a right turn. "I decided not to host one this year. I was not in the mood."
"Oh, okay. That makes me feel a little better about missing it then."
He pulled into my condo complex, and I took off my seatbelt when I realized he’d parked his car.
"Come. Let us get you situated."
I closed my eyes, trying not to get all flustered. I had my afternoon all planned out. I'd take a long, scorching shower, eat something, and then binge a TV show on my phone until I fell asleep.
"It's okay. I got it from here, thanks, though. I know what to expect this time."
He blew it off. "It is no issue for me. Come."
"Don't you have a wife to get home to?"
"Katja is out of town with some friends again. I have all the time in the world."
"How convenient," I mumbled under my breath.
"I do not like this side of you."
"What side?" I snapped. I turned toward him, my hand on the door handle.
"This pale face full of makeup and black shit covering your eyes, clown cheeks, vulgar mouth, and rude ungrateful attitude of yours. You never wear makeup, and you never snap for no reason. I can look in your eyes and tell something is wrong."
Sometimes I wished he didn't know me so well.
My raccoon eyes flared as I stared at Kova. "My cheeks have been rosy for days. I figured I was allergic to the detergent used on the bed sheets, so I used blush to try and even out the tone." I gave him a sarcastic look. "Happy?"
He wasn't amused. "Not in the least."
I rolled my eyes and laughed. "For once, I don't care to please you. Thank heavens. Maybe I should run to Sephora and buy out the store so I can paint my face every day."
"Oh, I beg to differ on that one. You still please me very much, I just do not like how you are right now. Something feels off and I want you to talk about it."
"Jesus Christ. You're impossible!" I threw my hands up in mock annoyance. "Has anyone ever told you that?"
One side of his mouth pulled up into a smirk. "A time or two." I hated that I loved that look on him.
"When was the last time you had your period?"
Well, that escalated quickly.
Why did I even like this man again? Shaking my head, I pulled the door handle and stepped out of the car and walked to the driver's side.
I reached for my carry-on, but Kova was quick and pulled my bag out first. Dropping my arm, I glared. "Is there something wrong with you?"
"Not that I am aware of."
"That was a rhetorical question. You're demented and completely out of line. You have no right to ask me that and you know it. I’m beginning to think there's something going on with you but you're just not telling me. And for the record, I had my period like two weeks ago."
He stepped around me and walked toward the entrance. We walked side by side, me fuming with resentment, and Kova as cool as a cucumber. This was just like the time he asked me when my last orgasm was.
"I think we are well past that line you speak of. Has your hair started to fall out yet?"
My brows shot up. I couldn't believe he was asking me these questions. "Why would my hair fall out? What are you getting at?"
"I am extremely concerned with how you look. You are pale, and your cheeks are sunken in. You look like a bag of bones. Your father would be furious with me if he saw you now. Are you starving yourself? Making yourself vomit?"
An angry scoff flew from my lips. He thought I was purposely making myself sick. Many gymnasts had eating disorders, but I wasn't one of them.
"Since when have you ever cared about me in that sense? If I recall, you once told me I sound like an elephant."
We stopped in front of the elevator and Kova glanced at me, his face knotted, hurt. Good. Served him right.
"Just because I do not voice it, does not mean I do not care immensely for you."
Oh, yeah. I was getting good and heated.
"So immensely that you had to go and marry Katja, right?" I was still bitter about that. Obviously. "Are you asking me these questions as a concerned parent, or as an unhappy husband who's looking for a good time but wants to make sure everything is still in working order before he dips his dick into someone he shouldn't?"
He stared flatly at me. "Just answer the questions."
The elevator chimed and we stepped in. "No. I'm not answering them. It's none of your business." The doors closed and I stared at our reflections in the brassy mirror. I watched Kova's lips as he spoke, counting down the minutes until I could crash in my bed.
"Contrary to what you believe, it is my business. I bet your heart beats harder and faster than usual. Headaches?"
"The only headaches I have are the ones you cause," I quipped.
"Shortness of breath?"
"Only because I'm fighting the urge to punch you." Kova hesitated when the elevator opened up. Quietly we walked to my unit. "I'm not in the mood, and I'm really tired. Please, just go home."
"I want you to tell me what is wrong."
If this was his way of beating an admission out of me about the blood work I had done because my dad went behind my back, it wasn't going to work. Once Kova left, I'd have to call Dad to make sure he didn't utter a word.
"Why would you think anything is wrong?"
"Just a feeling."
I hated that he could sense something was off. Now it made me paranoid.
"Well, you're wrong. I'm just tired and want to go to sleep," I said again.
"You would tell me, yes?"
I hesitated, then let out a breath. "Yeah, the same way you tell me everything that’s going on with you."
I unlocked my door and pushed it open without saying another word. As if I could tell him about the voicemail I had received, or the injury I was sure I'd reawakened at camp, or the results of the blood work I was scared to get.
"If you want me to leave, I will. Let me at least make sure you are settled in and then I will go. I remember how you were after the first camp and want to make sure you are taken care of." He dropped my bag to the floor and said, "But do not think for one second that I did not notice your limp."
I swallowed hard, my stomach tensing. I thought I'd done well with hiding it.
"Fine. But I don't know why you're pushing so hard. You were doing so good at respecting my boundaries and now it's like you're ruining everything with your controlling ways."
Kova released a deep sigh. His next set of words nearly broke my heart and I dialed back my attitude.
"I just want you to need me.”
* * *
"I just want you to need me."
After he said that, I excused myself to use the bathroom. I was reaching for the toilet handle when I noticed there was blood in the water again. My heart dropped and I froze. I thought the first time was just a freak reaction to the training and stress, but now as I stared at the blood in the bowl, I noticed the color was darker, which told me there was more. I made a quick decision not to tell Kova but knew I would have to address it at my next doctor’s appointment.
I'd taken a long bath in some sort of muscle relaxing salts Kova had brought with him, surrounded by my favorite candles. I soaked until the water turned col
d, then I washed my face clean and clear. There was no blood in that water, so I made a mental note that it only seemed to happen when I peed. I wasn't really a makeup kind of girl, so it was no sweat off my back to remove it for him. I always felt like I had layers upon layers of paint clogging my pores and making me oily when I wore it anyway. I'd only worn it to hide what I was feeling, which turned out to be a total waste.
"You hardly have any food in this house," Kova said, seemingly frustrated once I emerged from the bathroom.
White clouds of steam filtered around me as I glanced toward where he was standing in my kitchen.
"I'm never home, and everything goes bad."
"You are home every night and morning. What do you eat?"
I shrugged. "Protein bars, coffee… Sometimes I pick something up on the way home. I usually have fruit and vegetables but I didn't buy them since I wasn't going to be here."
Kova stared at me for a long moment, and I realized I’d probably confirmed his suspicion about bulimia earlier.
"I'll go shopping tomorrow."
Grabbing his cell phone, he swiped the screen with his thumb and said, "What do you want to eat? I will order whatever you want."
I studied Kova and focused on the fact his simple question made my heart race. I didn't want to worry him, and I wasn't all that hungry, so I decided to take a different approach.
While I originally didn't want him here, I was secretly happy he’d pushed his way in and I felt I should show him that. I was a mess of contradictions as always when it came to Kova, but he was just as bad as me. He knew he should just go home, yet here he was. We were drawn to each other in the most inexplicable way. Our chemistry was so powerful that our bodies ached to be with each other. We fought our feelings only to fall deeper with each passing breath. We made no sense at all yet we made perfect sense to each other, because there was no such thing as immoral or wrong when you were with the right person.
