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through his kiss, through sex. I just never would've thought this was what he was trying to tell me.
Ignorance at its finest when someone else is trying to heal another's pain.
I looked away and tried to focus on the tumbling pass I needed to complete. I tried to think about each skill, the physics of it, then visualized it.
In the corner of my eye I could sense someone shaking their head no. I saw someone move.
But it didn't register.
Leaning into the tumbling pass, I attempted to concentrate on the skill at hand, but it all happened in the blink of an eye.
I took a few steps, power hurdling into a round off, into the back handspring that I made sure to extend and not undercut—and my mind flashed to last night when Kova spoke in Russian—my feet punched the floor and I raised my arms as high as I could reach and began rotating into the twist—hearing the words in Russian that I thought he was asking for help, the way he looked at me—turning into the first twist, rotating my hips back again into the second flip, but something happened, and I panicked in the air before I could complete the skill.
I freaked out mid-flight.
I didn't execute the second twist and my body moved of its own accord. I shifted and turned however my body wanted to with little to no control to stop it. Every once in a blue moon this happened, and when it did, I couldn’t control it. It was impossible. The only thing my brain could process was folding myself into a ball so I didn’t break a bone on the way down.
And so, that's what I did. I hugged myself tight as my back made impact with the floor. I hit so hard, my arms shook and loosened, my knees hit my cheekbones. My head flopped back, the back of my head hitting the carpeted spring floor, and I choked out a breath of air. My body ricocheted, and I came loose until I flipped over again, landing haphazardly on the floor, this time trying miserably to catch myself.
Panting hard, I clutched my injured ankle, pain shot through me. Somewhere in between I hurt myself trying to land, but I couldn't figure out where. It didn't feel like my Achilles, more like a twist, but I couldn't think straight to focus on it.
I rolled onto my back and held my ankle until I rolled onto my knees and tried to force myself to stand quickly to roll it off my back, like nothing happened. I held my breath. No tears fell. I wouldn't let them, because I knew if I did, I would lose everything, and I wouldn't be able to stop.
Kova came running onto the floor and I eyed him with disgust and disappointment. He tried to help me stand, but I brushed him away. He tried again.
"Ria," he said low, trying to help, gathering me into his arms.
"Get the hell away from me," I nearly cried and pushed his hands away. "I'm fine."
"Please," he begged, trying to lift me. "Let me help you."
"Help me?" I said, scoffing sarcastically. I stood up, unable to make eye contact with him. Pushing back the tears, I choked out, "You've done plenty."
I limped off the floor toward the exit, but the only way to leave was to pass Katja. I exhaled a sigh and put on a façade of happiness and made my way into the lobby.
I'd never been so terrified in my life to meet someone face-to-face. I knew, deep down in my gut, I knew Katja knew the truth. There was no denying it.
"Congrats, Katja," I bit out with a cheerful smile while balancing on one foot.
"Spasibo," she responded, her eyes twinkling.
Thank you. I deciphered that one. I smiled again and went to walk past her.
"You know, Konstantin wanted to keep it between us for the past couple of months, but I could not wait any longer," she said exuberantly. "I just wanted to shout it from the top of my lungs."
"The past couple of months?" I asked against my better judgment. I had to hear it from the horse's mouth.
"Yes, did you not know?" she said, one brow raised, eyes boring into mine. "Konstantin asked me to be his wife forever. When I said yes, he couldn't wait, and made me his wife the very next day."
I tilted my head to the side…waiting…dying…until it slammed into me. Kova was married the week he was supposedly sick.
Vodka cures what medication cannot, he had said. I figured he was one of those people, like my dad, who didn't believe in medicine and drank his sickness away.
But he wasn't sick. He was getting married and drinking his way through it. No wonder he was so dressed up in the pictures he texted me. I firmly believed that now.
"We married two months ago," she stated. I didn't like the way she looked at me. The gaze in her eyes was too vindictive, like she knew something I didn't know.
Two months.
