Letters to Nowhere(11)

I could feel heat creeping up my neck. This was the first truly personal comment so far and I already didn’t like it. It would be better if she did talk to Grandma every day and tell her I’m doing just fine. Tell her everything I said and did that proved I was adjusting and could handle this situation.

My eyes stayed on the yogurt as I peeled the lid off. “It’s only been one day, so nothing to report, really.”

She flipped back a few pages in her notebook. “And he has a teenager of his own, is that right? He’s a single father?”

“Yes,” I said right away. “Jordan, he’s…well, I don’t know how old he is. Old enough to drive, but not out of high school yet?”

She scanned her notes. “Seventeen. What’s he like? Do you get along with him all right?”

“It’s only been one day,” I said again. “I don’t really know anything about him.” Except that he likes to have girls over and make out on the couch when his dad’s not home. “He seems normal, I guess. Other than drinking out of the milk carton and a lack of respect for punctuality and sanitary issues.” I glanced up at her, worried all of a sudden. “I sound like a germaphobe. I’m totally not.”

“I don’t think there are many elite level athletes without some sort of Obsessive Compulsive symptoms,” Jackie said. “Rituals and routines are part of the success, so you’re bound to want to replicate those situations over and over again.”

“I can’t take medication,” I said immediately. “It could be a banned substance—”

“I’m a PhD, not an MD,” she clarified. “And an MD would only recommend medication if the rituals or worries were getting in the way of normal life, which doesn’t seem to be the case with you. For example, if you became so overly obsessed with germs that you were afraid to leave the house or touch anything with your bare hands. Or if a morning routine made it impossible for you to get out the door or anywhere on time. Constant checking and rechecking. Things like that.”

What about avoiding your house and avoiding your parents’ car, driving a car…? Gymnastics had taught me to face fears head–on or they blow up so big you’ll never be able to conquer them. But maybe I had faced them by getting away and moving on?

Jackie’s eyes drifted to the clock on the wall. “We’re out of time today, but I’ll see you again on Thursday?”

“Yes, Thursday.” I tossed the empty yogurt container into the garbage can and headed for the door, but before leaving I found myself turning around to say something else. “Did I…you know…do okay with this?” Jackie’s expression was a bewildered one. “My grandma will want to know how I’m doing.”

“There’s no score in therapy. No Russian judge,” Jackie teased, but her smile dissolved when she saw the heat flaming on my cheeks. “But if I had to score you, I’d give you a seven out of ten.”

I opened my mouth to explain that the perfect ten was no more and to find out what, exactly, I’d been deducted for, but she cut me off before I could speak.

“You didn’t tell me much that I hadn’t read in your National Team bio and interview questions online, but I thought you explained the relationship with your teammates very honestly. It proves why you’ve had so much success in the sport—you’re realistic when it comes to gymnastics. What surprised me is, and I really want you to explore this before Thursday, the fact that you haven’t given much thought as to why Coach Bentley let you into his home. It’s a big responsibility.” She held up her hand, probably to stop me from answering now. “Don’t tell me today, write down a few ideas and bring them next time, okay?”

I nodded my agreement and mumbled a good–bye, my head still deep in thought as I got into Coach Bentley’s car.

Why did he agree to this arrangement? Not just agree, he had been more than accommodating. He’s been parental.





CHAPTER FOUR





January 30

Dad,




Today, I went to the shrink that Grandma is making me see. We didn’t talk about you and Mom at all. I didn’t want to. Here it’s okay, but if I started telling people about my letters and what’s going on inside my head, it would just make everything blow up and I wouldn’t be able to stop it. Today, after therapy, I started reading through the pamphlet that I had grabbed from the funeral home weeks ago. It’s full of quotes about dying and death. I know how you always like to quote famous books and important people so I figured you’d appreciate these more than Mom.




“Death is delightful. Death is dawn, the waking from a weary night of fevers unto truth and light” –Joaquin Miller




“What the caterpillar calls the end of the world, the master calls the butterfly” –Richard Bach




They both sound really nice, but that doesn’t make it real to me. I can’t make myself think this way. What about you?




Love, Karen




“Good, very good,” Coach Bentley said when I landed my fourth, nearly perfect uneven bar routine. “You’re done here. Move on to the pit.”

Moving on to the single high bar over the pit meant getting to work on new release moves and skills not yet in my routine with the intent of eventually increasing my difficulty score. Skills like the one in the video Jordan had caught me watching this morning.