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The list went on.
* * *
Sometimes you have to disappear to be successful, and that's exactly what I did for the next two weeks.
Mentally, of course.
Discovering I might have lupus and the chance meeting of my real mom was a lot to take in. I was filled with so many unanswered questions that kept me awake at night. Still, by some miracle, I stayed focused and driven, but I kept quiet.
The lab work had been quick and I was only an hour late for practice. The nurse hadn't been able to find a good vein and stuck me multiple times. Multiple vials had been drawn, all with different colored tops, some half full, some different sizes, some with whitish-yellow stuff at the bottom. From my vantage point, I'd counted ten glass tubes when it was over.
The first week had been the hardest. It took me a few days to get out of the slump I'd put myself in. I never should've done any internet searches about both illnesses—I’d known it was a bad idea from the start—but I couldn't stop myself. I needed to know more, but the more I read, the more anxious I became. I was insanely emotional and on the verge of tears a lot. After one night with only two hours of sleep, I woke up vomiting because my nerves were shot.
After that, I didn't allow myself to think about anything that could deter my thoughts from gymnastics, like Sophia and Francesca, or that I could be sicker than I thought. I promised myself I wouldn't look anything else up until I saw my doctor again. It wasn't good for my health, plus we didn’t know anything concrete yet. I trained day in day out, tightening up my skills. I drank tons of water and took iron supplements. I ate healthy but light, lighter than usual. I wanted to be prepared for the starvation camp this time rather than going cold turkey, so I trained myself to eat very little.
Each day got easier and I was down to eating roughly eight hundred calories a day. The downfall was that I was in pain everywhere. I almost caved and took a pain pill, but I needed to cut out the Motrin. My ankles were covered in tape and I soaked in Epsom salt every night. I had constant headaches, I was drained past the point of exhaustion, and my back was killing me, but I turned off my feelings and kept my eyes open.
I was on autopilot.
Still, no amount of training could have prepared me mentally and physically for what I was about to endure for the second camp. I knew what to expect this time, yet for some unknown reason, I was blindsided.
Once I arrived back in Texas, I found out four girls hadn't come back. Between the training and injuries they sustained, three were forced to withdraw, and one decided it wasn't for her. I wasn't surprised in the least.
The first day was all about everyone arriving, settling in, and going over the schedules, then we were put on the scale and our bodies were measured. I'd lost six pounds since the last camp. To say the coaches were happy was an understatement. Six pounds on my height and frame was a lot to lose, not to mention they were foaming at the mouth with my training. I was in shambles, but they were happy and that's all that mattered.
Showered and ready to collapse into bed, I pulled out my cell phone and checked my text messages, debating whether I should send Kova an update, when I scrolled past a message from Avery.
BFFFFFF: Please talk to me. I miss you so much. What can I do to fix this? I'm so sorry. : (
Leaning my head back against the headboard, I thought about Avery and how much I missed her snarky personality, her carefree view, her laugh, the way she always called me out. So much time had passed, and my excuse was that my plate was full. It still was, more than ever now, but deep down I knew it was me. I’d shut her out and disappeared to protect myself. Avoiding situations was easier, but I couldn't do it forever.
I typed out a quick reply.
Me: I miss you too. I'm in Texas and can’t text right now but I promise to message you when I get home. XOXO.
Clicking out of my messages, I pulled up my contacts and scrolled to Coach.
I probably didn't need to give him an update, but something inside my bones compelled me to talk to him. I needed to hear his voice. I shouldn't miss Konstantin Kournakova—he wasn't mine to miss—but I missed him so much. I missed that effortless connection we never should've been allowed to have, that easy morning peace we secretly reveled in at his house, the little stares. I finally had to acknowledge to myself that we were making progress.
No matter how hard I tried not to, I still loved that stupid Russian. Once I dropped some of the anger I was holding on to, I started craving him again as fiercely as before.
I rubbed my dry eyes. It was because of him that I let go of the furling resentment, because he wouldn’t have it any other way. With patience, he unknowingly forced me to love him more. He’d learned to respect my boundaries and even tell me no, but still remained the dominant Kova I loved. He’d invaded every part of my life he could. So I wanted to talk to him and tell him of my progress. I wanted him to know our work had paid off again and that we were one step closer to our dream. Because without him, I couldn't have made it to where I was today. Despite my best efforts to shut him out these past few months, Kova and I were a we, and I wanted to make him proud. Truth be told, I don't think we ever stopped being a we.
Exhaling a breath, I called him. Kova picked up after a couple rings. "Adrianna." His accent rolled strong over the R.
"Hi," I said shyly.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
"I'm fine for the most part. I just wanted to talk to you."
"Talk to me, then."
I didn't mistake the smile in his voice.
"The coaches seem pleased with my progress. I don't know… I wanted to share that with you."
"You know I already know, Ria. Tell me why you really wanted to talk to me."
