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His bright platinum wedding band clashed with the dull silver and I glanced away.
I wish I didn't spot it every time I looked at him now.
"If you take any kind of anti-inflammatory meds, you will hinder the growth and recovery of your Achilles."
I was going to throw out every bottle in my condo when I got home. I may have made some questionable choices when it came to my love life, but I wasn't that dumb when it came to my health. I didn't want to further worsen my injury, but I had forgotten not to take it. Taking Motrin was like drinking water to me.
"I know you have it in your bag, and probably a bottle in your truck. I want them before you leave."
"Okay."
"Stop taking them," he said.
"I said I wasn't taking them."
"You are a terrible liar."
"I'm sorry. I'm not as well versed in the field of playing with people's emotions and lying to them as you are."
"That was a low blow, Ria."
"Adrianna. Call me Adrianna."
He waited a long minute before responding. "You make me out to be a monster," he said, sounding distant, and I despised my traitorous heart for feeling bad.
"You're two-faced. You did this to yourself. Now let's just get this over with so I can go home."
"We need to make time to talk. There are things you do not know."
"No. There's really nothing to talk about at this point. You lost your chance when I found out the way I did. You should've had the decency to respect me, but then again, you're Kova, and only care about yourself. From here on out, unless it's during practice and about gymnastics and my future in gymnastics, I don't want to speak to you at all."
He continued scraping around my ankle. "You cannot ignore me forever."
"I can."
"You are my gymnast—"
"And we only have to talk here or at meets." I paused. "Don't push me on this, Coach."
I rose up higher on my elbows and looked over my shoulder, letting my unsympathetic glower show him I wasn't playing around. At least I got one look correct today.
When push comes to shove and you're thrown off a bridge into a dark and frigid world of hurt, you find out how dirty you’ll fight to keep your head above water. I wasn't wild and free anymore. I was a slave to myself and I trusted no one.
I would recover, but I'd never forget.
* * *
For once, Kova respected me and did exactly what I’d asked. At practice, we kept the focus on the sport and training. No heated glances, no inside jokes, no lingering touches. He had listened, adhered to my wishes, and never once pressured me to talk to him. At night, he stayed home and didn't make midnight appearances at my condo like he had so many times in the past. I was secretly relieved because the moment I got home until I went to bed, I drowned myself in an endless pool of tears.
I could
hardly sleep despite how fatigued I was. If it wasn't the exhaustion, it was the coughing that kept me up. Some nights I sat in a ball under a hot shower and sobbed, and in turn it would help ease the itch in my lungs. When I wasn't crying, I was in my head trying to figure out how naïve I was to miss that he'd gotten married. The only thing that came to mind was the night he’d been texting me when he was drunk and I’d thought it was cute. Now I didn't think that so much.
I didn't understand why I couldn’t just move on, or why when I stepped over the threshold at my condo and the mask fell that the tears would come seconds later. Who knew someone could be so empty inside and still cry their eyes out from holding everything in?
In the mornings I used an ice pack to bring down the swelling and all sorts of expensive creams to reduce the puffiness under my eyes. I even wore concealer to hide behind, something I'd never done. Wearing makeup to practices and workouts never made sense until this week. Makeup helped me hide the ugly truth.
About midway through the week I started to notice that Kova hadn't ridiculed me once during all the time we trained. And considering we spent close to ten hours a day together, it was noticeable. He didn't force me to do extra conditioning, he hadn't yelled at me, hadn't made me do my routines or skill over so many times to the point I lost count. He wasn't acting like his usual, dickhead self, and that concerned me.
