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My coach says, “Let’s go to the bars. I’ll spot you but at least you can get in some practice,” she says. “I know how much you love the bars.”
Bars are my least favorite, but no one can wipe the cheesy grin off my face. I’m back on the mat.
I take that back. Shannon and I are paired together on the bars with Coach. I go through the list of strength conditioning exercises watching her perform flawlessly. I want to be happy for her, but something curls inside my gut.
When it’s my turn, coach lifts me at the waist to the low bar. Usually, I would springboard onto it, but we don’t want any forces pushing on my knee. Working through a scaled down version of my bar routine feels good. An athlete is used to a daily routine, so when your schedule is thrown into chaos, it’s discomforting, and you feel out of sorts. But at this moment, swinging up to the high bar, my mind calms and my body surges over the bar in complete control.
Control—that’s what’s been missing.
I cast to a handstand and hold it longer than I ever have. My arms begin shake and I hear the coach say, “Giant.” My legs, torso and head stay in a perfect line, fully extended, letting my own weight propel me three hundred sixty degrees. This time, I do a reverse grip on the bar and then let my body swing like a pendulum until my movement stalls, and I hang until the coach’s hands support my weight and brings me to the ground.
“Can I go again?” I ask, as a smile spreads across my face.
Coach says, “Sure, let’s put together a sequence that doesn’t require your feet touching the bar for now.”
I nod with excitement. Gymnastics keeps me centered, gives me a sense of purpose, and for the first time in months I feel like myself again. I’ve been a bear to live with since summer—first the high ankle sprain and then this ACL injury.There’s a disconnect with not being able to keep my routine. Vault and Floor are my two favorite apparatuses, and not being able to practice what I excel at is depressing. But thoughts of Hagan have me flying high.
Shannon shouts, “Great job, Addy Bug.” She’s chastising me, but to the coaches it appears she’s being supportive.
The coach talks about what she wants me to do, and I practice for a half-hour doing a simple sequence. Typically, people would call me a power gymnast. I like the pounding of my feet on the floor during a tumbling pass and the speed and force of the run toward the vault. The uneven bars are different. You have to be strong but graceful.
When I enter the locker room after practice, I overhear Shannon telling Darrah how she’s been hooking up with Chaz since the beginning of the summer—which means, according to her timeline, he definitely cheated on me. “Chaz says Adalee stripped bare and tied a bow around herself for his birthday. But he said I rocked his world later that night. I’m better than her at everything.”
Ginger fires back, “Get over yourself. Adalee rarely even talked about him. And if she bared herself for him like that, she would have told me. Adalee is the sensible one. She doesn’t think of romantic interludes, except maybe with Hagan.” The room quiets at the mention of his name.
“You should see them. They’re absolutely adorable. I bet they win couple of the year at The Stallion Awards.”
I want to see Shannon’s face so I turn the corner in the middle of Shannon saying, “There’s no way he would be with Adalee.”
Opening my locker, I take out my phone.
Hagan:You and Ginger come to my house after practice. Joe’s with me.
I hold up my phone and show Shannon whose name it is flashing across my screen. She tries to snatch the phone from my hand but I keep a firm grip. “You’re such a li—” she starts, but then sees the message I’m holding in front of her.
“Come on Ging, we have two hotties waiting on us,” I smirk as we leave Shannon standing with her mouth open.
Ginger asks, “Do we have time to shower first?”
“If you want, but I’m not sweaty.” I give her the rundown on my bar work. She tells me what she added to her floor routine.
We run home and I freshen up while she takes a shower. She’s done in record time because she bought a hair dryer that doubles as a straightener at the mall. Her auburn hair is beautiful, especially when it’s straight.
The music blares from my Camry on this fall night. Ginger and I are singing Brett Young’s song, “In Case You Didn’t Know.” I can’t wait to see Hagan. We’ve seen each other every day either in class or at night after we’ve finished practice. We haven’t gotten close to second base since the night we dry humped in his Rover. There’s been no mention of me performing self-care in front of him. Honestly, I’m glad because it’s embarrassing.
Hagan is waiting on the porch and hears us singing. As I walk up the sidewalk, his arms slide around to the small of my back, and he sings the rest of the song to me. Ginger walks past and mumbles something about getting a room.
He looks into my eyes and says, “Do you have plans?”
“Yeah, with you.”
“No, I mean how far out do you have your life planned?” he asks.
I can see he’s serious, his dimples aren’t framing his face, but I don’t know how to answer. His brows pinch when I don’t respond.
“I may go to grad school next year, but it depends on money and if I keep my scholarship.”
He shakes his head slightly then turns me around with his hand on the small of my back and walks me into the house. “Guys will be back down in a few minutes.” His tone is strained but he laces his fingers through mine as I follow him up the steps to his room.
