by Lucia Franco
A tear slid down my cheek. I wiped it away with the back of my hand.
"You have to keep your head up. Never look at the ground when you're walking. Your dreams, your views, your goals, all your aspirations, they'll come to a standstill because there's nothing to reach for when you're closed off. Instead, look forward with optimism and prospect. The path is wide open for you to take what you want." He paused like he was thinking about his next words. "Sweetheart, there's always going to be a mountain you'll want to move that'll make you question everything in you. You'll ask yourself how you can do it. That's how life works. And right now, you have it a little harder than others because you're surrounded by mountains with no view of the sky. Do me a favor."
I nodded, wiping more tears away and sniffled.
"Don't focus on the struggle of moving them because that's not what it's about it. It's about how much you put in when you decide it's your time. You can't move a mountain, and you certainly don't go around it. You climb that sucker and show yourself what you're capable of."
I burst into uncontrollable tears, my eyes heavy with strain and exhaustion.
Dad got off his chair and kneeled in front of me. He grabbed my hands and forced me to look at him. "Some days you're going to get knocked down. And you know what?"
"What?" I asked, my voice cracking. I attempted to sniffle back the tears but it didn't help.
"That's when you get back up and keep going to show yourself what you can do. I know it might sound impossible right now, but the battle will make it all worth it. One day you'll see."
He reached over to the table and plucked a few tissues from the box and handed them to me.
Between tearful breaths, I said, "I feel like I don't have the proper equipment to climb a jagged mountain in the dark."
I was surprised I came up with a good analogy to match his on the fly.
"You've always had it. You just lost your footing along the way. Look at it like you sprained your ankle."
I smiled through the tears. "Like little tears in my Achilles."
Dad pointed his index finger at me and gave me a look. I sniffled but my sad smile grew. "We get one life, Adrianna. You have to live it to the fullest and not let anything hold you back. I always thought I was until what happened at Easter. That day put things into perspective for me. I changed a lot after it, and very late into my life. I don't want you to have regrets and what-ifs plague you for the rest of your life. Be something now. And do it for you and no one else. Have no fear. Don't rest until you're about to drop."
I inhaled an audible breath, then exhaled the burden of the world I was carrying on my shoulders. A few more tears slipped down my cheeks. Talking to my dad was helping me cope with my thoughts. My chest didn't feel as constricted and I felt hopeful I could possibly take the reins of my life.
It wasn't that I didn't have the confidence, I did, but something shifted in me since I'd been diagnosed. I felt different. I felt like the world viewed me differently, like I was walking around with a stupid label. I felt like my time here had come to an end before I got to experience anything.
I lifted my eyes toward the ceiling and blinked a few times before responding. "My body is going to do what it wants whether I like it or not. On top of that, I've yet to find a match for a donor. That terrifies me and I think what stresses me out the most. What if I never find one?" My jaw trembled as I said it out loud for the first time. "I want it all so bad, Dad, so bad, and I don’t want anything to hold me back. I'm scared knowing I have absolutely no control over that aspect of my life now. None. "
Dad glanced away, trying to hide his face falling, but I caught it. "That fear is normal for every single person in your shoes. Just don't let it scare you into a corner. Control isn't something I let go of so easily either. I'm a work in progress. It's probably a Rossi thing. Your brother is the same way. You'll get there. Just don't give up."
A smile spread across my face. Dad reached for me and pulled me into a hug. The comfort of his fatherly embrace eased my soul.
Maybe everything would be okay. Knowing that no amount of treatment could reverse the damage is what disturbed me daily. Knowing it could only grow worse from here on out is what taunted me.
I needed to find a way to accept that. I just hadn't figured out how yet.
"Am I making a huge mistake postponing the dialysis? Do you think I'm going to make myself sicker? Do you think I'll die sooner because of it?" My heart was frantic in my chest thinking I'd made a huge mistake.
My dad shook his head. "No, I don't think you're going to die because of it, don't ever say that. But you know where I stand on the issue. I'd rather you start treatment now, but after speaking in depth with your doctors, I understand that waiting a few months should be okay. That doesn't mean I don't think about it every day, because I do. I worry all the time, and if I thought for a second waiting would take you from me, then I would've put my foot down and pulled you immediately. You're going to have a lot of hurdles. I want you to have what you want while you can get it." Dad exhaled a heavy breath himself. "You've got this," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "You've got this, okay?"
I nodded and sniffled again as a knock sounded at the door.
"Who's that?"
Dad stood, his knees cracking. "I invited Konstantin and Katja for a drink."
Icy cold blasted through me at the mention of Katja. My heart sank. I hadn't even known she was here.
"Oh, that was nice of you."
His brows wrinkled. "Is that okay? You look pale."
I forced a smile. "Oh, of course it's okay. I just don't want anyone to see me crying and then ask why, you know? Once I get past the next few months with Worlds and the Trials, if I make it, then we'll tell people. Until then, no one. I’ll get cleaned up while you let them in."
I quickly made my way to the bathroom and shut the door. Turning on the faucet, I didn't let it warm before I cupped the cold water and splashed it on my face. The last time I saw Katja, she’d given me dirty looks and mouthed off to me in Russian. I may not speak her language, but it didn't take a genius to see she clearly had an issue with me.
I frowned as I splashed more water on my face. I really didn't want to be in her presence right now. What would I even say with the three of them talking? Maybe I could excuse myself and go to bed early.
I patted my face with a towel, then leaned on the counter and stared at my reflection. I dabbed the puffy, dark circles under my eyes with my ring finger wishing I had some dumb cream my mom—Joy—insisted I use. My nose was red from crying, and my chapped lips were a little swollen too. I needed makeup…and about seventeen hours of sleep.
When I moved into the two-room suite earlier, I’d unpacked to prepare for tomorrow so I wasn't frantically looking for things at the last minute. Typically, gymnasts weren't allowed to stay with family during a meet, only afterward, but Dad had insisted I stay with him, stating Kova had approved it. I was secretly relived. Being the only gymnast at this meet from World Cup, I was glad to not be alone where I could stew on my thoughts.
I grabbed my Louis Vuitton makeup bag and applied just enough makeup until I looked halfway decent. I threw my hair up into a messy bun then glanced down at my attire. Yoga pants and an oversized sweater would have to do. I wasn't trying to impress anyone, anyway.
Expelling a heavy breath, I opened the door and smiled, preparing for an exhausting night.
Seventeen
Kova was not his usual meet self on the second day, and I didn't like that one bit.
I fed off his energy. He gave me strength. Didn't he know that by now? He was what I needed to thrive. I was nothing in this sport without him. Nothing.
I had woken up feeling extremely emotional this morning. I hated when this happened, when these deep feelings hit, or when the littlest thing made me want to shed a bucket of tears. It wasn't often, but a few times a year I found myself more sensitive than usual, like I was due for a good purge to cleanse myself. I could definite
ly use one now, considering all things.
Sometimes being a girl sucked.
But Kova was broody and moody and walking around with a perpetual scowl since we got to the meet.
This wasn't him. He needed to get his shit together.
Last night after two hours of sitting in the same room with Dad, Kova, and Katja, I excused myself and went to bed. I'd sat with them, but mostly kept to myself reading a book on the chaise lounge. My eyes were on and off rolling shut and I couldn't take another minute. When the hardcover fell on my face and scared five years off my life, I knew I had to lay down or I wouldn't be fresh for today. They’d understood and wished me a good night, except for Katja. It wasn't like I’d participated in their conversation—I had no idea what they even talked about—but last night I got the memo quite clear. Girls always knew when another girl didn't like them, and for whatever reason, Katja seriously disliked me.
I glanced at Kova and watched him. Creases lined his forehead as he shot brief looks in my direction every few minutes. It made me wonder what he was thinking about, if it was about me, because every time our eyes met, I got the vibe his thoughts were of me.
That's it. I was going to ask him.
I sat on the floor with my duffle between my folded legs and rummaged through it for my tape and grips.
"Coach?" I said, and Kova looked at me. "Can you tape my wrists?"
He nodded without hesitation and squatted in front of me on one knee.
"Are you okay?" I asked only for his ears.
He nodded and wrapped the white tape around my wrist. "Yes. Why do you ask?"
"Because your mood is bothering me. You're not acting like you usually do when we're at meets together. I need the old Kova right now, more than ever."
He lifted his eyes but not his head. "What do you mean?"
"You're walking around like you're mad at the world. I don't like it. Did I do something wrong?"
"I am not mad."
"Then can you act a little more—"
"Adrianna, I am not mad. Okay? I just want today to be perfect for you. That is all."
I shut my mouth for a minute and watched as he wrapped my other wrist.
"Kova," I said, hoping he'd see I was serious. For the first time in a while, I was going to open up and tell him how I felt.
I dug deep for the bravado I needed to get my next few words out.
"I feed off your energy. You give me strength, and I need you. I feel like I'm nothing in this sport without you, but seeing you like this… It's messing with me. So, get whatever you have going on in your head straight and give me back my Coach Kova. Please." I paused, then added. "I need you, I need Coach Kova. I can't do this without him."
Ripping the last piece of tape with his teeth, he placed the roll back into my bag and stared at my hands. He picked up the cotton wristbands and slid one on to each wrist without a word. Tension rose in me like the building of a bass chorus.
I held my stomach in. My lungs felt constricted. I'd skipped all my medications this morning hoping the shaking would subside for the day, but my entire body trembled from head to toe. Kova noticed and took my hands in to his, comforting me.
He released a deep sigh and finally lifted his eyes to meet mine. A shadow of remorse cast in his gaze. Closing his eyes, he opened them to reveal his real emotion I was not privy to often. His steel green eyes pierced my heart and caused my lips to part.
"Did you read what I wrote you?"
I nodded and smiled timidly. I'd thought about talking to him about what he said, but I'd yet to bring it up.
Stop with the Coach bullshit.
I had laughed and turned the page, unprepared for his next entry.
When I saw you again after so many years had passed, I did not think you would become this important to me. I did not think you would be on my mind all the time, or that I would want so many things with you that I have never thought to have with anyone else. But you have, and now I cannot imagine you not here in my life. I will never hurt you again. You have my word. Hurting you inflicts pain upon me.
I’d tentatively turned the page again.
I have been thinking of calling you krasivaya instead of malysh. It suits you better.
I eyed him, and whispered, "I like krasivaya."
If I didn't know Kova, or if I wasn't sitting so close to him, I would've missed the slight curl to the corners of his lips.
He shook his head, then looked down before meeting my gaze again. "I am so fucking proud of you and what you have become. I just want you to succeed. It is all that is on my mind. I promise. You have worked so hard to be here. I want today, the end result, to be everything you dreamed of. I apologize for making you feel any sort of way. I never meant to. I guess you can say I am stressed too."
My chest tightened. "Do you think yesterday was just pure luck and I can't place like that again?"
Kova pulled back, slighted by my words. "What? Why would you think that? Of course not. You know that."
I shrugged, then flinched when a photographer took a picture of us. The flash was nearly blinding and left stars dancing in my vision.
"I don't know. All I know is I don't like your energy right now. It's putting thoughts into my head and they're not good. I wasn't lying when I said I feed off you." I prepared to open up even more to him, show him I was being serious. "Some days when I'm really down and not feeling like myself, all I have to do is look for you and suddenly everything snaps back into place. I can't explain it, and I know this might sound cheesy, but you give me life. When I'm feeling weak and incapable or second-guessing myself, you breathe energy into me without even knowing it." I leaned forward and lowered my voice to almost a whisper. "But today, I don't see my Kova, the one who gives me strength. I see someone who is deep in his thoughts and confused and bitter."
His eyes glistened like my words were ones he longed to hear. Like they meant something to him. He was quiet for a moment.
"If I am being honest," he said lightly, his Adam's apple bobbing, "I had a very long night and did not sleep. There is nothing else on my mind but sleep, and you coming out on top. I promise, Ria. I just want the world to see what you are made of."
Ria. I knew the impact that nickname held.
One corner of my mouth tugged to the side. I felt a little shy now. "You and me both. My dad snores. Even with the door shut it's like a freight train coming through the room. At least you don't snore. I sleep like the dead when I'm with you."
My eyes widened, my cheeks blushing with embarrassment. Kova's head dropped and his back vibrated with silent laughter.
"You cannot say those things here, Adrianna." He looked up, his eyes flashing with amusement.
"I didn't mean to! It just came out." My voice was a high whisper.
"Come," he said, and stood with a grin. Kova placed his hand out and I took it. "Let us get going."
"Yes, let us." I mocked playfully.
He pulled me in for a side hug and glanced down. A real smile reached his eyes and his unspoken words poured out. I felt them. I saw them, and I let them comfort me.
"You only have floor left. You got this," Kova said bent over as he rubbed my upper arms.
I nodded frantically. My eyes lifted toward the scoreboard again but Kova stopped me.
"No. Only look into my eyes. Do not let the number throw you off. You hit bars, beam was rock solid, and vault is behind you. Now I want you to go out on floor and have fun out there. Be yourself and let your love for the sport shine."
I didn't have to look to know I was insanely close to dropping to second place, but I liked the reminder of knowing what I was up against. I was only 1.4 points away from slipping and I was a giant ball of nerves from it. The judges had been relentless today and stingy with the scores.
"Okay," I said.
I tightened my ponytail, then stepped onto the podium and made my way to the blue carpeted spring floor.
Within minutes I saluted the judges and took my position. The ch
ime sounded before the music started, letting me know I was about to start.
A symphony of instruments echoed throughout the stadium and I knew all eyes were on me. Confidence radiated from me and I fell into pace with the music, knowing my personalized routine had to be in sync with the rhythm and beat or else I would face deductions. My routine was required to match the melody. The string of the violin shadowed the pounding keys of the piano, but it was the delicate harp that carried my heart as I floated across the floor from corner to corner in a series of dance skills and requirements.
With my first two tumbling passes completed, I stepped into the corner for my third pass. I brought my arms down and released a tight breath, then I started running. Halfway across the floor, I hurdled into a round-off, back handspring, double layout, and rebounded into a half-turn, wolf leap that we’d added into my routine for bonus points a few months ago. It was just one of the many revisions we’d made to my routine to up the difficulty. All my routines had been slightly modified for bonus skills, but the only way to receive the extra value was to execute it a specific way.
Only this time, I had so much power and momentum that I stepped out of bounds.
Fuck!
Recovering quickly, I sashayed across the floor, leaping and twisting along the way, flipping into handstands and practiced ballet skills until I reached the corner.
I've got this. Taking one last deep breath, I visualized my last tumbling pass and took off…
Only to step out of bounds. Again.
Oh God. That was twice now. I never, ever did it twice at a competition. Ever.
I finished my routine and saluted the judges, then immediately looked for Kova. He was already waiting for me near the stairs. I sprinted over to him with dread in my footsteps and unease in my throat.
"It is okay," he whispered as I stepped down and into his arms.
"I stepped out, twice!" My voice was hushed but heightened. I pulled back and we walked toward the chairs. There were cameras everywhere but I ignored them. "Who knows what other mistakes the judges caught. I knew it. I just knew yesterday was too good to be true. I just knew it."