Letters to Nowhere #1 (Completed!)

Letters to Nowhere: Part 9

January 30

Dad,

Today, I went to the shrink that Grandma is making me see. We didn't talk about you and Mom at all. I didn't want to. Here it's okay, but if I started telling people about my letters and what's going on inside my head, it would just make everything blow up and I wouldn't be able to stop it. Today, after therapy, I started reading through the pamphlet that I had grabbed from the funeral home weeks ago. It's full of quotes about dying and death. I know how you always like to quote famous books and important people so I figured you'd appreciate these more than Mom.

"Death is delightful. Death is dawn, the waking from a weary night of fevers unto truth and light" –Joaquin Miller

"What the caterpillar calls the end of the world, the master calls the butterfly" –Richard Bach

They both sound really nice, but that doesn't make it real to me. I can't make myself think this way. What about you?

          Love, Karen

         

"Good, very good," Coach Bentley said when I landed my fourth, nearly perfect uneven bar routine. "You're done here. Move on to the pit."

            Moving on to the single high bar over the pit meant getting to work on new release moves and skills not yet in my routine with the intent of eventually increasing my difficulty score. Skills like the one in the video Jordan had caught me watching this morning.

            From the corner of my eye, I saw both Blair and Ellen grind their teeth, hating that I had moved on before them. Chances were that they'd both nail their routines this time around.

Evening workouts meant maneuvering around the many team girls at lower levels and all the recreational classes. I had to share the pit bar with a small group of level 6 girls and their coach, Jeff.

            The more I nailed my competition routines, the more new skills I was eager to try. This was usually Blair's department. She got bored with the repetition of doing routines on every event several times in a row, but whenever we worked new skills, she'd do something amazing and totally out of left field. I was the consistent one—clean routines, average difficulty, nothing flashy or original but not a whole lot to deduct either. Lately, I'd been feeling a bit caged. Bentley's coaching style was different than Coach Cordes's. Bentley wanted ten clean routines—no major mistakes—every day, between the morning and evening workout. Cordes rarely had us doing full routines until a couple weeks before a competition.

            As I swung around the pit bar, I couldn't stifle the desire to try something new, despite the group of level 6 girls and their coach watching. And to my credit, it wasn't exactly a new skill. It was a release move I did in a piked position. But if I did it in a layout position (totally straight body—like a pencil), the difficulty went up about two notches. Which was the gymnastics equivalent of two touchdowns, assuming I could catch the bar.

            Right before I let go, I played the videos I'd been watching of the layout Jaeger in my head, visualizing which direction my momentum would be headed and when to reach for the bar again. I figured I'd end up facedown in the pit on my first try, but instead, one of my hands caught the bar and the other brushed it before sliding off. I hung with one arm, swinging until I could drop and land feet first into the pit.

            "Awesome!" Coach Jeff said. "I didn't even know you were working on those. Where have I been the past few weeks?"

            I smiled and gave him a high five as I climbed out. I glanced over at the uneven bars and sighed with relief when I saw that Bentley had his back to me, watching Stevie's routine with a careful eye.

            Coach Jeff turned to address his group. "See, girls? That's what you'll be doing if you get your swings higher and work hard on all your basics."

            One of the little girls rolled her eyes behind Jeff's back and I laughed under my breath. That would have totally been Blair a few years ago.       

            Stevie was the next in my group to join me at the pit bar and by that time, the level 6 girls had moved on to another event. We both chalked up in silence and I avoided eye contact with her before making my third attempt at the new release, hoping she wouldn't even watch me. This time I got both hands on before sliding off. When I climbed out, Stevie was standing over me, her mouth hanging open.

            "What the hell was that?"

            "It was an accident," I muttered. "At least it kind of was the first time and then I just thought maybe—"

            "It looks great. Really great. But competing it..." She shook her head in disbelief and before I could stop her, she shouted across the gym. "Hey, Coach! Karen wants to show you something!"

            Ellen landed her bar dismount with a thud that echoed through the entire gym, because Stevie Davis, the three-time world competitor, had just spoken loud enough for everyone to hear, and people always hung on every word Stevie said.

            "What are you doing?" I hissed at her, keeping my head down.

            She grinned, wider than I'd ever seen her smile. "I didn't say what exactly you were going to show him. That's up to you."

[If you liked this story, please take a moment to vote]