Letters to Nowhere #1 (Completed!)

Letters to Nowhere: Part 18

My heart raced as I looked down at the two large grocery sacks at my feet. "Should I leave the bags in the car?"

            Jordan pulled into a parking space and threw me a weary look. "Still feeling bold, today?"

            "Why?"

            "I think your best escape is to tell him the truth."

            "I can't do that," I said. "I can't even believe I told you. I don't talk to boys. Ever. And now I'm buying tampons with one."

            I ignored the heat in my face because I realized Jordan might be right. I'd had a streak of boldness this entire day, starting with my afternoon workout. Maybe this was a PMS symptom?

            Jordan's cell phone rang as we opened the front door to find Coach Bentley standing in the living room, holding his own phone to his ear. He snapped it shut immediately. "What—?"

            I glanced at Jordan for a split second and he nodded expectantly toward his dad. "I'm not really sick," I said. "I didn't want to tell Stacey the truth."

            His arms folded across his chest, face not revealing any anger, but I was sure it had to be in there somewhere. Elite gymnasts were known for their obedience. I was no exception to this rule. "But where have you two been?"

            "Buying tampons at Walmart," I blurted out, holding up my two sacks. "You can alert the media now. I'm no longer at risk for osteoporosis."

            I stayed in the living room just long enough to see his mouth hang open, then I jetted up the stairs. I might have been feeling more outspoken than usual, but not enough to want to watch Bentley stumble to find something to say.

January 30

Grandma,

Do you miss Mom as much as I do? Can we just talk about it instead of reading books? We spent thirty minutes on the phone today and I didn't ask any of the questions I really wanted to ask you. Are you so sad you can hardly breathe? Are you so sad you want to stop breathing? Sometimes I feel like that, but I can't tell you because I've accepted it and I'm adjusting well.

Love, Karen

Coach Bentley,

Why didn't you tell me there was something wrong with me? How can you read those reports and not tell us about them?

--Karen

P.S. I'm still really, really grateful that you let me stay with you and I promise to work hard to make the National Team.

Jordan,

I'm sorry you don't know your dad very well. I wish I could help.

--Karen 

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