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My eyelids were heavy as I dropped my bag to the floor, fingering the strap and scanning the airport. I blinked long. I could fall asleep standing at this point, until I saw him.
The moment our eyes connected, my lips parted on a sigh and he rushed forward like a force was pulling him to me. Relief washed over me and I opened up, falling into him.
"Malysh," he said softly in Russian. "I had a feeling you would be like this."
Kova threw my duffle bag over his shoulder, then scooped me up and gently held me. I expelled a sigh, faltering in my gratitude. Despite everything and my need to keep our distance, I collapsed in his arms like thousand-pound weights were strapped to my body. I just couldn’t move another step and I think he knew that. I nestled my forehead into his neck and closed my eyes. I should've cared that we were in the middle of an airport where anyone could see us, or that a photo could be taken and used out of context again, but I didn't. I needed him. I needed his strength. I needed to draw from it and build myself up. I needed Kova to make me strong.
It was like what he’d said that night after Parkettes—he was my strength. I needed Kova to exhale his strength because only he could give me what I needed right now.
Pretending to be strong took a toll on me, both mentally and physically. Maybe I wasn't the gymnast I thought I was. Or maybe I was, I didn’t know. My mind was a hazy mess. All I knew was that I wasn't used to the physical abuse I’d been dealt for breakfast, lunch, and dinner this past week and I feared it would be more of the same with Olympic training. I guess it was the price we paid for success.
"Thank you," I said quietly, my eyes rolling shut. I was so damn tired. Kova carried me to his car in under a handful of minutes and carefully deposited me onto his bucket seat like I was an expensive piece of porcelain he was afraid would shatter into a million little pieces.
He reached over and buckled my seatbelt, his delicious cologne dusting the air, bringing a sense of comfort all around me. I breathed his scent deep into my lungs as he placed my bag at my feet.
"I don't know if I can do this again," I confessed quietly once we were on the highway. I had another camp three weeks from now.
He looked over at me, but I kept my eyes on the busy road. I was in a daze. I didn't want to see the disappointment that most likely tinted his features.
"Do not say that. You do not mean it."
I shook my head. "How do you get past this bone-aching, mentally-draining feeling and keep going? Right now I feel like I'm never going to recover. I want to roll over into a pile of crushed Motrin, then swim in a pool of alcohol and drown myself in it until I'm numb from the pain."
Kova chuckled lightly, and I felt it warm my belly. I laughed, holding my stomach, not knowing where my comment came from, but it was the truth.
"Anything I ate at the camp was monitored and limited. You know I'm already cautious of what I eat, and now I’ll be even more aware from here on out after being verbally abused at the camp by the coaches."
Kova frowned and shot me a worried look. "What do you mean?"
"If we weren't being called fat slobs with pig faces and cellulite thighs, our waists were pinched so hard they left nail imprints. We were looked at with disgust and impatience, berated over our weight, and had fear shoved down our throats until we choked with tears. And yet, none of us requested to leave. I wasn't sure we could even if we wanted to. All we were given each day was a slice of gluten-free, dry bread that tasted like shit and a small apple for breakfast, a handful of nuts for lunch, and dinner was some nasty ass frozen meat and vegetable washed down with laxatives for dessert."
"Laxatives?" he questioned. "You took laxatives?"
My eyes closed shut as I recalled the horror of being forced to take them and the cramps that followed shortly after.
"Not by choice. The coaches told us that succeeding at an elite level required intense sacrifices. Judges wanted to see lines, not curves. Once all the national team members arrived at camp, we were weighed and measured before training began. Everything, and I mean everything, was noted. I can guarantee that we'll be weighed and measured again when we go back. Who knew that meant being deprived of food and forced to suck lemons? Sleep was almost nonexistent due to the amount of times we were in the bathroom because of the laxatives. Cramps worse than the period kind, and at one point, I only had water coming out of me. My stomach was on fire, like there were flames growing bigger by the second. Considering how little food we were given, I was baffled the coaches would think there's anything left to expel from our fragile bodies." I shuddered at the thought of the repercussions they'd face if that were the case. "God, I bet this is the last thing you probably wanted to hear. All I'm doing is complaining and telling you gross things. I'm so sorry," I said, and inwardly groaned at all the TMI I’d just shared.
"You know they are
testing you, right? To see if you have the strength to handle the pressure and sacrifice it takes to train for the Olympics."
My eyes widened. "So you agree with everything they did and you're okay with it? It's borderline abuse."
"I did not say that, but I was already aware of most of it," Kova said, turning onto a street. He accelerated. "It is nothing new, Adrianna, and it comes with the territory. There is not one sport where athletes are treated any differently. It is just not spoken about."
My jaw dropped. "What didn't you know?"
"The laxative part."
I blushed a little bit. "Considering we're pretty well-acquainted with each other's bodies, I didn't see the need to hold back, especially on anything that happens inside the walls of the U.S. Olympic Training Site." I stopped when it dawned on me he had the chance to warn me ahead of time but hadn't. Anger shot through my veins and I turned toward him, leveling a stare. "If you knew what kind of conditions to expect, why didn't you warn me in advance?"
Kova glanced at me. "What would that have accomplished? Would you have changed your mind and given up the opportunity so few are granted?"
My eyes widened. "No, never, but at least I would've known what to expect. The lightheadedness was so bad one day that I started seeing spots in my vision. I was afraid to perform a tumbling pass because I was terrified I wouldn't land properly or black out midair. My gut said don't do it but I had no choice in the matter. Hunger made my heart pound violently in my chest like I was going to have a heart attack. Another day I straddled the beam and was nearly condemned for it. My fingers are raw, and my thighs are still shaking with soreness, and you didn't think to warn me, even a little bit?"
Kova was quiet for a moment. I don't think I’d even breathed while I’d berated him.
In a tedious tone that almost made me regret what I had said, he asked, "Would you have changed your mind if you knew how demanding it would be? Knowing this was your end result, would you have changed your mind? Answer me, Adrianna."
