by Lucia Franco
"Did you let go completely?"
Avery looked away for a long moment, then back at me. I knew her answer before she even said it.
I smiled sadly at her.
"He's got one chance left. When he's ready, he's ready."
"Are you just going to wait?"
"Psh," she said. Her smile was filled with amusement. "That's a negative. I'm too young to wait around for love. If it happens, it happens."
I smiled back, but I didn't believe her. Avery was putting on a strong front, but I'd give it to her. She was trying to lift me up, and it was working.
When Avery spoke again, her voice was low, and there was a slight tremble to it. She couldn't look at me. "I feel like when people are looking for love, it never happens. I also feel like when they're waiting for it to knock on their door, it'll never happen either. I don't want to be like that, so I'm just gonna live and see where I end up and have fun. I want to spread my wings and fly against the wind. Life is too short to eat fat-free ice cream and sugar-free cake."
She was seriously winning me over.
"Did you think it would come to this?" I asked her. Tears blurred my eyes once again. I wanted to stop crying.
"No," she said quietly, and grimaced. "Honestly, I never saw this coming. I feel bad about it." Leaning into me, Avery gave me a big bear hug, then looked at me and said, "I think you need to ask yourself who you are without Kova."
Forty-Six
There was an enormous feeling of loss that no one had prepared me for after the Olympics.
It had hit at the end of the first week.
An emptiness settled in my chest and built a fortress around the outer layer. I didn't like the barren feeling that spread like black smoke through my heart chambers, and I used sleep as a way to avoid it.
This time three weeks ago, I was standing on the podium accepting the team gold medal. Now I was getting out of the shower hardly able to stand because of inflammation in my body. My ankles were sore, my toes looked like sausage links, and my cheeks were often warm to the touch. I was so out of breath, and the exhaustion wrecked me. I couldn't catch a good deep breath no matter how hard I tried. It was like my body had said that's enough and took over and released everything I'd been fighting to keep at bay for the last few years and unloaded it.
I'd achieved my dream…but no one talked about the after.
The first week home was spent sleeping, and then more sleeping. Dad was staying at Sophia's, but they both came over throughout the week to check on me and have dinner at night. We hadn't gone back to Amelia Island because I had a doctor appointment set up two days later and Dad felt it wasn't necessary to drive to Cape Coral right after. I was glad. I didn't want to be stuck there. Surprisingly, I felt more at home here than I did there. I'd missed my appointment, and the ones scheduled after that. Dad had reassured Dr. Kozol that I was okay and that I would be in within the next few weeks.
The second week I still hadn't cleaned anything or even unpacked my bags. Sophia actually came over and did that for me. She offered to hang up my medals, but I told her it wasn't necessary since I needed to start packing up my condo anyway and wanted to bring them with me. I slept a little less but not by much.
Today marked the end of the third lonely week home, and the deadline of when I was supposed to announce to the gymnastics world that I was committing to the University of Oklahoma.
The school was aware of my health and was still willing to take a chance on me after I’d told them I couldn’t take a full load the first year. They even granted me a late start due to competing in the Olympics, so long as I could catch up on my assignments. I should be elated, but I couldn't find a smidgen of joy. There were no rays of sunshine in my veins. No excitement when I got a swag package of clothes in the mail from the school. Not after how depressed and alone I'd been lately.
I'd gone through spurts of depression in the past, but I'd never felt depression quite like this since I've been back. It made me think I'd never truly experienced what depression was until now.
My ache for Kova increased with each moon. It was worse in the middle of the night. I missed him so much and longed to hear his voice. Tears fell at any given moment. I was alone, missing my other half.
There was no more Kova and Ria.
I wondered if his heart hurt the way mine did.
If I was on his mind the way he was on mine.
If he felt my loss the way I felt his.
I wondered if he'd picked up his phone to call me like I had him numerous times only to not go through with it.
Kova had been on my mind more so this week than the last two, and I think that was because my time here was coming to an end. He had known about my commitment to Oklahoma before anyone else had, but he didn't know that I hadn’t left yet.
It was strange. I hadn't felt the need to tell him I was actually here. We’d both made a decision that night in his hotel room. Being home and looking back on that night, writing and reading my journal, it killed me to accept that our minds were set and we weren't budging.
I don't think it would've mattered if he knew I was here or not. Kova wanted time, but I didn't have it to give.
Seven days from now I would be in another state living on my own again. I was both anxious and nervous about that and thought Dad would initially be against me moving so soon, but he was actually relieved. He figured the further away I was from Kova, the better.
I turned off all the lights then locked up my condo, finally leaving for my very much delayed appointment. I made my way downstairs and stepped outside. Dad was already waiting for me with Sophia. Pulling my jacket tighter, I opened the door of his sleek Mercedes and slid into the back seat.
Within the hour of arriving, I had vials of blood drawn, ultrasounds completed on various parts of my torso, and numbers were input into the computer to track my overall health. We were sitting across from Dr. Kozol ready to go over my new treatment plan. It was like any other appointment I'd had with him in the past, only it wasn't. Dad and Sophia were here, and something about that made this appointment feel so much more final.
"Congratulations, Adrianna," Dr. Kozol said, taking me away from my thoughts. "The whole office was cheering you on. We're so proud of you, even though you defied doctor’s orders."
I chuckled and dipped my chin to hide my blush. I was honest and told him I'd taken lots of Motrin while I was away. He continued, "We had every television on in here, holding our breaths. You had quite a few people in tears watching you accept the gold medal. I must say, for someone who is as ill as you, you're a true fighter and a sight to watch. You made it look so easy, like nothing held you down. I'd never guess you're as sick as you are."
"I've been sleeping since we got back. Believe me, it came with a price, but it was so worth it."
He angled his head, giving me a knowing look. "I bet. Your exam tells me you had a pretty bad flare up. Luckily it happened after you got back."
Dr. Kozol asked me a handful of questions, then went on to address that he’d found a doctor in Oklahoma he felt was capable of handling my case. He told us how he’d spoken in depth with him multiple times and what his plan of attack would be. It was similar to my current one before I’d decided to move. Though he was confident, he also suggested we get a few opinions of our own, just to be safe.
I listened to Dr. Kozol tell Dad step by step of what to expect within the next few months. I'd read about this phase online so many times I was having nightmares about it and it hadn't even started yet.
"Expect dialysis three to four times a week, lasting anywhere from three to five hours each time." Dr. Kozol stacked some papers together. He pulled a pen from his coat pocket then began writing something down. He looked up at me when he was finished. "During that time or after you leave, your body will cramp from the fluid being pulled from your body during dialysis. That's the stuff your kidneys couldn't process any longer. Most patients complain of leg cramps, though some say their entire body aches. Everyo
ne is different and only time will tell." He tipped his head and bore his eyes into mine. I felt like I was about to get yelled at from my dad. "Make sure you take it easy and don't overdo it. If you're postponing the transplant surgery, then you need to treat your body like a temple during this time."
"Okay." It was all I could say. I swallowed, though my throat was dry. That was a lot of time to sit and do nothing while my body was cramping up.
"Take the nausea pills I prescribed you since we know they already work. You'll have nausea most of the time, and drugs will be given to hopefully prevent flare ups. Your blood pressure will likely dip. That’ll be monitored so you don't pass out from not being able to catch your breath from something as simple as carrying groceries to doing a light jog."
That worried me. I already had a hard time catching my breath, which he was aware of. Now I was going to need to be extra cautious that I didn’t pass out and hit my head and die in my new apartment alone.
"She'll be taking a year off from sports to work on her health," Dad said to Dr. Kozol, then he turned to me. I told him I would take a year off. That didn't mean I actually would. I was estimating six months, at most. "Your priority is your health. Nothing else. There should be no reason for you to exert yourself. All you have to do is get up and go to treatment. That's it."
I nodded vehemently. Dad was right, and I had to remind myself that I had a very strong and solid support system. He was making it possible so that I wouldn't have to worry about anything except my health and attending the few classes I was taking.
Dr. Kozol continued. "Some people will either gain or lose a substantial amount of weight, so watch for that. Some patients claim they have newfound energy after dialysis starts. No two patients are the same. Log your symptoms in a journal so you can track how you’re feeling." He looked at Dad. "If you want to have a driver on the back burner for her, it wouldn't be a bad idea. Occasionally there've been patients who are too physically tired to drive after.
Of course, Dad loved the idea and said he'd set something up just in case.
I thanked Dr. Kozol and apologized to him for all the times I had been difficult. He chuckled and said he liked the medical challenge I brought to his desk. He also added that I probably aged him ten years while I was under his care.
My future wasn't going to be pretty for a bit, but one day it would be again. I was confident that it would be, even if the only thing I had to look forward to wouldn't start for about eight months or so. I wouldn't give up sports completely, it just wasn't possible. However, I would be smart about my decisions. Light jogging maybe, and some light weights. No actual gym, though. No Motrin, nothing that could hold me back. I only wanted to go forward from here. Moving to a new town alone would be a challenge too, but I was a little excited about that. I wasn't sure how I was going to handle everything on my own in the beginning, yet I knew exactly what I had to do in order to live.
I was going to live. I had to for me. I hadn’t achieved my dream of Olympic glory only to give up now.
Forty-Seven
Like every other night of my last week here, Dad and Sophia brought over takeout.
They made sure it was food I could eat on my special diet. Dinner was really the only meal I ate since I slept most of the day, so I made sure to eat everything they brought over.
"Did I bring enough boxes?" Dad asked, taking the last bite of his steak.
After we ended with Dr. Kozol, my dad picked up boxes then dropped me off at my condo. He was flying out in a few days to negotiate a new business deal, and Sophia was going with him.
They both planned to meet me in Oklahoma two days after I arrived to help me get settled and go to my first doctor’s appointment. Dad had insisted that Sophia stay and be there for me after he left until I got used to the side effects of the treatment, but I wanted to do it on my own. It was something I needed to do on my own. Maybe she could stay a few days, but that was it.
"Yes, I have plenty. I should be able to have this place packed up in a couple days with a day or two to run last-minute errands."
"How have you been feeling…otherwise?" Dad asked, dragging out his question uncomfortably. I watched his eyes do a quick sweep across my body and I knew what he meant by that. "Every time I see you, you look like you're hardly sleeping."
Though the part of my life that haunted his eyes was in the past, it was still very much in the present for me and lingered like a bad odor in the air. It was going to take time to dissolve.
"I'm honestly doing well, just catching up on all the sleep I missed out on. Dealing with the aftermath, of course, but otherwise, I'm really okay."
Dad regarded me. I held his stare, willing him to believe me.
"I can help you pack, if you’d like," Sophia offered. I looked at her.
"I'd like that. Thanks," I said, giving her a smile.
I didn't want to pack, and I sure didn't want to do it alone where I was lost to my thoughts. I'd either get nothing done from being depressed and not having the energy to do it, or I'd cry over the shitty hand I'd been dealt.
Dad's voice caught my attention. "When you get off the plane, look for the chauffeur to take you to your apartment. Your SUV won't arrive until the following week. Your apartment is right outside of campus and within walking distance of everything you could need, at least that's what student services told me when I spoke with them. The driver will have your house key, and the place will already be stocked with food."
I smiled, grateful that Dad was still willing to support me after everything. He could've kicked me out. I was eighteen, after all. Standing, I took the plates to the sink. They didn't usually stay after the sun set.
"Let me get this," Dad said quickly, and stood with me. He waved my hands away. "Go relax with Sophia on the balcony, or something. It's cooler out now."
"Dad, it's still like eighty degrees outside."
"It's better than ninety-three."
Dad carried the empty containers and plates to the kitchen. I was kind of happy that he suggested I hang out with her. Sophia came into my life at the worst time, and I've been wanting to thank her for everything she's done to help me.
We both took a place on the love seat on my patio. Sophia angled her body toward me and brought her knee up.
"How do you feel about the move? College? Are you getting excited?"
I nodded and shrugged at the same time. "A little bit. I think I'm starting to be okay with it…with things."
Sophia's eyes softened with compassion. She knew I wasn't just talking about going to college.
"Whatever is meant to be will always find its way," she said like she was so sure. "You'll see. I know what you're about to do seems scary, but I think you're going to discover just how strong you are."
My voice was small. "I don't feel strong. I feel really weak." I swallowed and opened up a little. "I'm scared."
Her eyes were empathetic. "Francesca used to tell me the same thing. She had a fighter's heart and I envied that about her. I didn't have the same ambition as her, obviously."
I felt bad that she viewed herself as someone weak. To give up a child because she knew she couldn't give it a proper home is not something a weak person did; however, I understood her sorrow completely.
Sophia continued, her brows smoothing out as she thought about Francesca. "She'd say she didn't know who she was or what her purpose was in life anymore. She was physically weak all the time, said her head was foggy a lot. She forgot things so easily, or couldn't focus on one task long enough to finish it. She was much sicker than you, though. Much sicker." She paused, staring off like she was stuck in the past. "It's going to take time adjusting to this new lifestyle of yours." Sophia rolled her lip over her bottom teeth and worried it a bit before returning her gaze to me. "I didn't mean to ramble and tell you a morbid story about my sister."
I shook my head, letting her know I appreciated it. "It's totally okay. I'd rather know what to expect, even if it is kind of sucky." She gave me a
small smile, and I reassured her once more. "Tell me whatever you think is helpful. I know Francesca and I have different illnesses, but they're still similar in many ways. At least I won't be going crazy over the side effects."
Sophia nodded her head, her tender doe eyes expressing her feelings. I studied her. She appeared apprehensive about something. I decided I would start a conversation and open up a little more to her. She was trying…and so was I.
I licked my lips nervously. I wanted to tell her how I was really feeling inside. I wanted to make sure what I was feeling was normal and that I was supposed to go through these motions. A part of me hoped she had sound advice to give.
"I’ve had a lot time to think since I got home. I should've gotten up and gone about my usual day. I should've started packing and preparing to move. I should've had deep tissue massages post training so I didn't lock up. Instead, I let myself go. I couldn't do anything because all I did was think about him." I eyed her to see how she'd respond to mentioning Kova in the way I did. "Every day, all day, my thoughts have revolved around him. I wasn't even awake long and I still managed to think about him the majority of the time. I even dreamed about him. The strange thing is, he would be so angry to know I wasn't taking care of myself, that I'd gotten weaker. He wouldn't have wanted me to feel the way I have been." I sighed heavily. Saying these things aloud was vastly different than thinking about them. It made me reflect on myself. "I normally never succumb to these feelings, but I've been having a really hard time lately. All I do is lie in bed." I blinked rapidly, feeling the tears climb my eyes. "As the days passed into weeks, I realized that the reason I was sick was because of me."
Sophia had tears brimming on her eyelids. She didn’t respond just yet, and I had more to get off my chest.