You Will Know Me(85)

Coach T., feet planted on a stack of orange mats, face red, mouth open,

Just a few hours before, he had been sitting across from her, pleading his case, pledging his troth. And now here he was, along with Amelise and Bobby V. and two new coaches, both with necks as thick as tree stumps, their log arms flipping girl after girl, their voices low and steady and constant.

“Swing! Swing! C’mon, strong. Strong.”

“C’mon, fivers! That’s sad juice. Garbage in, garbage out.”

“Work your arms in the double lay, Cheyenne. Work straight. Head up, head up.”

All the shouts and grunts and squeaks, hands slamming on beam, feet punching the mat, the hiccup of the vault, the squeeze of the springs.

“Big smiles, no mistakes, Li’l Miss Weaver.”

“Come on, Jordan. Arms, arms, arms. Sell, girl, sell, perform.”

“Don’t let me see it hurt. Remember: everything’s beautiful, nothing hurts.”

Everything was beautiful and nothing hurt. Katie felt the words shiver through her, and it was that moment that she saw Devon taking the beam, Teddy on the floor, approaching her.

Devon leaning down, hands on her knees, listening to him, nodding.

That’s my daughter, she thought. Look at her. Look at that fawn-eyed little girl. She would never harm anyone. She would never do any of these things.

It’s not possible, she thought. Drew’s wrong. Gwen’s wrong. Everyone’s wrong.



She knew he’d arrived the minute she saw Devon straighten her spine, lengthen her form, shift her center ever so slightly to the rear of the gym.

Katie turned, and there Eric was, standing just inside the doors on the far end of the stands.

Face gaunt, hollow, eyes russet-ringed, he was watching Devon, hands shoved in his jeans pockets, the same jeans from last night, the knees darkened with dust.

The ground beneath the two of them was gone, and might be gone forever. The eternal aerial, the falling-forever.

Abruptly, he looked up into the stands, as if he felt Katie too. Catching his gaze, she couldn’t remember how she was supposed to feel or understand any of it.

That’s the awfulness of love, her mom once said to her, peeling off last night’s eyelashes, resting them on the table beside her coffee. Every feeling, all at once, all the time. That’s when you know it’s real. And by then it’s too late.

Her head darting between the two, Katie’s eyes unfocused, and husband and daughter blurred, the same dark hair, the same hooded eyes, the same fixed jaw, mouths like bruises. They were like twins. Or the same thing.

She knew she should be thinking, Look what they’ve done. Look what she’s done (and why?) and look what he’s done in hiding it, hiding her.

But instead, all she could think was Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you share it with me? Either of you. It’s always been we three. Collaborators. Conspirators. We three against the world.

We four, she corrected.

Drew beside her, head down in his book. Hardy Boys again. The Secret of the Caves.



On the floor, all the girls, all the coaches had stopped, mid-drill. Devon was at the vault.

“C’mon, missy, let’s see that double-twist Yurchenko,” Teddy said, clapping his hands. “You’ve done that one in your sleep before. No going backward here.”

On the runway, Devon bobbed from foot to foot, clenching and unclenching her hands.

“She nearly took a header with that one last week,” murmured Jim Chu, Molly shushing him.

Shaking her fingers at her sides now, Devon was talking to herself, staring at the springboard eighty feet away.

Then, as if she’d heard something, Devon lifted her head and looked over at her dad, locked eyes with him. And just like that, everything changed. As far away as Katie was, she could feel the change, her chest filling, her body battening itself.

Her head turning again, Devon looked up at Katie.

Like a foot to the rib cage, it was. Katie nearly lost her breath from the pain and power of it. My girl.

The minute Devon exploded into her run, Katie closed her eyes.

“Look at her go,” someone said behind her. Kirsten Siefert, her body itching forward. “Would you look.”

Hearing the thunk of the springboard. Opening her eyes. Seeing it. Springing what looked like a hundred feet in the air, then landing, both heels thumping the mat with such force that, sixteen rows up, Katie could feel the shock up her spine.

You can’t understand what it’s like until you see your child do something you could never do. No one could ever do.

This is what fearlessness looks like, Katie thought. What desire can do.

“God,” Jim Chu muttered. “She’s like a machine. A perfect machine. Do you ever want to open up that head of hers and see what kind of wiring she has?”

“My daughter’s not a machine,” Katie said. “She’s extraordinary.”



“Where’d Dad go?” Drew whispered.

Touching her ribs, the phantom bruise from Devon’s phantom kick, she peered out to the double doors, but Eric was gone.

Back down on the floor, Devon was waving up at her, her face streaked white, those dark eyes. A face ghostly and exultant.

Mom, she seemed to be calling out. Mom, I did it!

She was smiling.