Weightless

by Gia Riley

  “Are you going straight to the gym when you leave here?”

  “I was planning on stopping in my dad’s office before practice starts. Why?”

  “No reason. I happen to think it’s awesome you’re going back to gymnastics. I wasn’t sure you ever would.”

  “I miss it, but part of me is still scared it’s a bad idea.” There were a lot of lies holding me back from ever seeing the inside of the gym again. I hope once I get inside I won’t regret my decision.

  “I know you can do this. You’re so much stronger than you give yourself credit for. In fact, you’re badass.”

  “I don’t know if I’m badass, but I’m trying. That’s gotta count for something, right?”

  “That counts for everything.”

  THE OFFICE DOOR IS OPEN when I get to the gym, but I knock anyway. “Dad.”

  The smile that crosses his face when he looks up from his paperwork is worth the crazy nerves I have going on inside of me. While the pressure of competition is gone, I still want him to be proud of me. Just because I can’t win any medals, or stand atop the podium at the end of a meet, doesn’t mean I can’t find success with the sport.

  “Are you working out with us today, beauty?”

  “Yes,” I say with confidence. I’m finally ready.

  He stands up from his desk, and sits down next to me on the couch. “I’m glad you’re giving it another try.”

  “If I’m being honest, I’m a little scared about going back out there.”

  “I’d be worried if you weren’t. This is a big step.”

  Knowing my dad understands the importance of today makes it that much better. Gymnastics doesn’t have to carry a stigma with it anymore. Finally, I can work out because I love it—not because it’s what’s expected of me. For the first time in my life, the only person I have to please is myself. That fact alone is going to take some time to get used to.

  “It is a big step, but I’m ready.” I’m even excited.

  He leans against the back of the couch, crossing his arms over one another. The last time we were in this same position, I was quitting the team. There’s no denying how much history this tiny office holds. Only this time, I’m not spiraling out of control.

  “All I want you to do is ease into the workout today, Sophie. It’ll all come back to you like you are riding a bicycle.”

  “I figured I’d be sucking wind today—and miserable.”

  He laughs because it’s the honest truth. Nothing about today will be enjoyable. I struggled with conditioning when I joined the team, and having been out so long, it’s probably gotten even worse.

  “You’re an Evans, so I know it’s hard to hold back.” He pauses before changing his smile into a serious expression. “But as your father, I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  His words radiate from his heart, and there’s no denying his love for me. “I’ll take it slow,” I say as redness creeps up my neck, settling on my cheeks. It’s not that I’m uncomfortable, it’s that I’m still getting used to the peace his words fill me with. I never imagined I would have a father let alone one who loved me. But he doesn’t let me sit long enough to dwell on it.

  “I’m glad we had this talk. Now go start your stretches, and I’ll meet you in the gym.”

  “You got it, Coach.” I do as he says, joining the other gymnasts on the mats. It’s like déjà vu as I’m reminded of my first day with the team only a year ago. I was new, and afraid of what would happen if I wasn’t the best. I was scared of my own father—even though I didn’t know who he was at the time. Now, a year later, my whole world has changed. Some for the better, and the rest no worse than before, but most importantly, I’m not scared anymore of the man calling the shots. In fact, I love him.

  As Dad walks into the gym, all eyes are focused on every move he makes. Not only does he have the attention of every athlete, he also has their respect. New team members have stars in their eyes as they dream about being a part of the legacy that encompasses The University of Alabama gymnastics program. There’s no doubt they have him on a pedestal, though none of them could ever be as proud as I am. I’m the only one who gets to call him Dad.

  “Welcome to the first day of practice. Though the competitive season is still months away, you will need every single second to prepare for the flawless routines you’ll present to the judges at each and every meet. I say flawless because that’s what I’m expecting from each of you. But don’t confuse it for perfection. As gymnasts we strive for a perfect ten, but real perfection is a package—it’s more than one single element or one perfectly stuck landing. You see, perfection is unattainable for most, yet strived for by many.”

  He paces around the mats, paying attention to the confused expressions on the faces of each gymnast. “You will find your perfection, but it may not appear in the form you imagine. I’ll help you get there, and I will remind you to measure your success in goals rather than numbers.”

  Still not grasping the concept entirely, one of the captains from last year’s team looks around the room cautiously before raising his hand. “Go ahead Kyle.”

  “But you still want tens. That doesn’t change?”

  “Are you asking me or telling me, Kyle?”

  “A little of both, I guess.”

  “Kyle, I want to see a ten on the scoreboard for every routine. I want to win.”

  “Then I’m not sure I get it.”

  “There’s nothing to get, Kyle. I’ve been given a new perspective the past few months. I’ll always have the same approach to coaching the sport, but I want you to find success without depending on it—without constant comparison. This is a good lesson for all of you, the definition of success doesn’t only happen inside these four walls. Success is a way of life. I want each of you to know your worth regardless of the number on a score board.”

  Kyle shakes his head that he’s finally making sense out of Dad’s speech. I’m smart enough to know this new philosophy is because of me. He knew I only ever felt like I was worth anything inside the gym. Out of it, I struggled, broke down, and would rather not exist.

  Now that Kyle’s on the same page, Dad continues. “We all know Kyle, but let’s begin today with some simple introductions. I’ll start with my daughter, Sophie.” He faces me and holds out his hand for me to stand up. I hate being singled out, but I stand anyway. “She’s going to be practicing with us this season and entering the open elite events on the club schedule.”

  My eyes widen in surprise. I’ve been out of the sport for so many months I knew I was done at the University of Alabama, but I never thought competing on the club level was even a possibility.

  “Why isn’t she on the team? She’s in one of my classes.”

  Dad faces a girl I don’t recognize from any of my classes. Then again, I also don’t pay much attention to anything other than the lecture when I’m in class. “She actually earned a scholarship to be on this team, but she’s chosen to focus on her academics.”

  The girl nods her head. “Welcome, Sophie.”

  “Thank you,” I tell her.

  “Sophie’s also a great one to ask for help if you need it. I trust her judgment as she’s one of the most talented gymnasts I’ve ever had the privilege of coaching.”

  Charged by his compliments in the best way, tears well in my eyes. “Thank you, Coach.”

  The team glances back and forth between the two of us, no doubt curious about what it’s like to have him for a father. Each day I discover what it’s like, and what I’ve experienced so far is better than I ever imagined.

  I let go of his hand, and turn to sit down on the mat, but he stops me. Looking straight into my eyes, he says, “You can call me, Dad.”

  I smile and nod my head, not caring that anyone else is witnessing our exchange. “Okay, Dad.”

  Any lingering doubt I had about whether this was a good move to make disappears. I’m back in the gym where I belong.

  Yeah, I can do this.

  Kipton: O
n my way to the lake. Can you talk?

  Sophie: Calling you.

  I SHOULD BE ON MY way to see Sophie, not texting her. After the final bell on this hot as hell Friday afternoon, I loaded up my car, and started the drive to Lums Pond. I’ve been warned cell reception is shitty at the cabin they rented, which makes this my only chance to talk to Sophie. Once I lose my signal, I’m shit out of luck. I don’t like being out of reach, but there’s nothing I can do about it once I get there.

  “Hey, beautiful.”

  “I take it you got my message. Kipton, I had the best day!”

  I love hearing the excitement in her voice. I knew today could go one of two ways, and I was praying it would end up a great experience instead of her wanting to give up on gymnastics again. “Practice went well then? And what message are you talking about?”

  She giggles playfully. “Don’t mess with me. The one you texted me that you needed—so you wouldn’t be a starved man all weekend.”

  I did say that. She’s been spoiling me with hot pictures—another selfish reason why I don’t want to lose reception all weekend long. I pull the phone away from my ear, checking for a notification just in case I missed it, but there isn’t one. “Sophie, I didn’t get anything. When did you send it?”

  “Umm. About fifteen minutes ago, I guess. I took it in the locker room after everyone left.”

  The locker room. Shit. I haven’t gotten any locker room pictures yet. It makes me want it even more. “I didn’t get anything, babe. Can you send it again before I lose you? I’m getting closer to the cabin.”

  “Okay, I’ll resend it and call you right back.”

  “God, I love you.”

  “Why? Because I send you naked pics so you can survive?”

  “Well, yeah, but that you do it at all. It’s pretty fucking awesome.”

  “I’m glad you’re enjoying this, but I’d rather have the real deal.”

  “Me too, Sophie. Trust me.” Nothing beats her naked and in my arms. Sure, the pictures are fun, but the naked skinny dipping over the summer will always be at the top of my list. She was so nervous we would get caught which made it even sexier.

  I wait patiently for my picture to come through, and for her to call me back. But after five minutes pass, I start to wonder what’s going on so I use my hands free device and call her back.

  The call connects after two rings, but it’s silent on the other end of the line. “Are you there?” She doesn’t speak, but I can hear her sniffling. “Beautiful, what’s wrong? You sound like you’re crying.”

  The floodgates open as she sobs into the phone. “Kipton, we have to break up.”

  I pull over to the side of the road because there’s no way she means what she just said. “What the fuck did you just say?”

  I take a deep breath, trying to channel my anger into some semblance of rationality, but all hell is breaking loose as she continues to cry, and I continue to lose my cool. “Shit, I’m sorry I cursed at you.”

  “I would curse at me, too,” she says with a stuffy nose.

  “Baby, what happened? I need you to talk to me.”

  “I sent it to your mom, Kipton. Your freaking mother!” she yells. “I must have clicked on the wrong name when I sent it. I didn’t even realize it until you told me you never got it. She’s had it all this time.”

  I shouldn’t, and I struggle not to, but I can’t keep it inside. Laughter erupts from my body, and I’m thankful I already pulled over because I wouldn’t be able to see the damn road if I was still on it.

  This is a definite first—my girlfriend sent a naked selfie to my mother. It’s all kinds of wrong, but it doesn’t make it any less amusing. “Does this mean I’m not getting the picture?” I ask as I continue to laugh my ass off.

  She hangs up on me.

  I deserved it, but I call her back anyway. “This is not funny,” I repeat aloud to myself over and over until it sinks in. I try picturing Senorita Mosley and her buck teeth, but even that doesn’t help.

  “What?” She barks into the receiver as soon as she picks up the phone.

  I want to make this better for her, but what’s the proper protocol for a misplaced naked selfie? “I’m sorry, Sophie. It’s not funny, yet it kind of is.”

  “No. Nothing about this is funny, Kipton. Your mother thinks I’m a slut now, thank you very much. All because you’re a horny beast. I’ve never sent a naked picture in my life until a week ago, and then this happens.”

  “Didn’t you tell me there’s a first time for everything? Or was it everything happens for a reason?”

  “Kipton,” she warns. “I will hang up on you again.”

  She’s right, that didn’t help the situation. “You’re hot, Sophie. It’s not my fault.” All I can think about is the picture I’m missing out on.

  “Just tell me how to fix this?” she begs.

  “Well, practice makes perfect. You should try again only send it to me this time.”

  And cue the dial tone. She’s feisty when she’s pissed, and it’s hot—but she can’t get rid of me that easy. I dial her number again.

  This time it rings three times before she picks up. “What!”

  Although she’s really mad at me right now, it’s a good sign she didn’t let my call go to voicemail. Maybe there’s still time for me to dig myself out of the giant hole I’ve dug. “I’m sorry for being an insensitive jackass. Do you want me to call my mom?”

  “I don’t know what I want. Right now, I want to disappear. I’m so embarrassed, Kipton. I’ll never be able to look her in the eyes again. She probably thinks her son is dating some low class hooker.”

  “I promise she doesn’t think you’re a hooker. I’ll call her, and smooth things over. Would that make you feel better?”

  “Yes, I’m sorry.”

  “There’s nothing to be sorry for, Sophie. Accidents happen, okay? I’m not mad, she won’t be mad, and one day we will all sit around the dinner table laughing about this. I promise.”

  “The dinner table! My boobs are not up for discussion.”

  Bad choice of words. “Okay, not at the dinner table. You’re right. The only lumps should be in the mashed potatoes.”

  She laughs at me, but I can tell she doesn’t want to. “You’re the biggest smartass on the planet. Just call your mother, please.”

  “I will right now. I love you.”

  “Love you, too.”

  I hang up the call and ease from the shoulder back into traffic. Thankfully, I run into another gas station about a mile down the road where I can safely make a call I’m dreading. Maybe she hasn’t even seen the picture yet. In that case, I’ll just tell her to erase any messages from Sophie, and problem solved.

  “Mom? You there?”

  “Kipton Keller, you know better!”

  Too late. “I promise it was an accident.”

  “Sophie’s clothes didn’t accidently fall off.”

  “Well no, they didn’t. But she’s really embarrassed. Can we just forget this ever happened?”

  “I have half a mind to sit you both down and give you a lecture about the risks of the Internet.”

  “It was never on the Internet. It was a text, Mom.”

  “Kipton, I know you’re apart after a long summer together, but I taught you better. Treat her with respect. Not an object.”

  “Mom, I know—” She cuts me off before I can plead my case.

  “A woman’s mind is far more attractive than her body. Use this time to get to know each other on a deeper level, and leave the rest alone for a while. You’ll survive.”

  “You’re right. We’re sorry.”

  “Okay, then. Now let me go. I need to give Sophie a call.”

  “No! Don’t do that. She’ll lose her shit again after I just got her calmed down. Can we pretend it never happened?”

  “Honey, I can’t do that.”

  “Mom, please. You have to.”

  She sighs in frustration, but she has to realize calling Sophi
e would make this ten times worse than it already is. Plus, I’ll hear about it for days if she embarrasses her even more.

  “It’s against my better judgement, but I’ll stay out of it.”

  “Thank you.”

  Pots and pans are clanking together in the background, a sign she’s on a furious cleaning frenzy. She’s always doing housework, but when she’s pissed off, the entire house is spotless. “Enjoy your weekend, but stay out of trouble!”

  “I will. Bye, Mom.”

  “Bye, honey.”

  I’ll consider that a win. It could have been worse—a lot worse.

  BY THE TIME I GET to Lums Pond, there’s already two school vans parked in the lot. I’m surprised at how nice it is here. I was expecting to rough it for the weekend. The cabin is at least two floors, and sits in front of a huge freshwater lake with its own private fishing dock. There are a couple canoe’s resting in the sand near the water, and tied to the end of the dock is a paddleboat. I’m sure the guys won’t waste time taking that for a spin on the lake.

  “Coach Keller’s here!” Ty yells from inside the garage. Oddly enough, he’s busy wiping off a surfboard.

  “I didn’t see any waves out there, Ty.”

  “Don’t need any. I’m gonna try and use it as a paddleboard. I have one of the oars from the canoe I can use to row.”

  “Makes sense. Is everyone else inside?”

  “Yeah. I think almost everyone is going for a trail run. I’m working on this until we leave.”

  “I’ll get changed then.”

  I push open the door leading inside the cabin. Evan, one of the newest guys to the team is standing inside the door. “We’re going for a trail run, you’re coming right?” He asks eagerly.

  Evan has taken an interest in hanging out with me, always wanting to be in my group at practice. He’s a pretty cool kid from what I’ve seen so far, and if he’s looking for a mentor, then I’m happy to fill the roll. I remember what it was like making the transition from middle school to high school. It’s an awkward time. Once I found my place with the team, I started winning more matches and gained a lot of confidence.