Release

by Lucia Franco

  * * *

  There are over six hundred muscles in the human body. I would bet my future in gymnastics that I’d used every one of them this past week.

  Every. Single. Muscle. Seven days a week, sixteen hours a day.

  I was borderline crippled. My limbs were numb and I ached in parts of my body I didn't even know were possible to hurt. My lower back was on fire and my Achilles was killing me. I could barely put my hair into a ponytail and just breathing was a strenuous task. I wondered how long it would take to get over the soreness and worried it would be longer than usual. But the worst part? The worst part was the emotional state I was left in.

  I didn't even know where to begin, but I wanted to cry for what I had just endured.

  I’d gone to Texas with a solid mind and body. I'd looked forward to the training camp, eager, full of zest and persevering enthusiasm to learn from the absolute best in the sport.

  I came back utterly broken and fearing the next camp. I almost didn't want to go. My body was in shambles, and my mind felt like an egg had been cracked open and over beat.

  A full week of some of the most dangerous training I'd ever experienced for the ultimate goal of Olympic glory. It truly was survival of the fittest, and three days into it I’d started questioning whether it was worth it.

  Konstantin Kournakova had nothing on those coaches. Nothing. His training was child's play compared to what I went through. Fucking child's play.

  And I couldn't even have Motrin.

  Cue the violins.

  I was beyond thankful Kova had offered to drive me to and from the airport, because there wasn't a chance in hell I could have driven myself home. Yeah, I wasn't so keen when he’d first brought it up. I thought he was full of shit when he said the camps are quite arduous and I wouldn't be in tip-top shape afterward. At the time I couldn’t imagine the training being any more rigorous than what I'd already done. Boy, was I wrong. So. Fucking. Wrong. I could hardly stand in an upright position without wanting to cry. The moment the plane touched down in Florida, it was like my body said “you're free” and released a traumatized breath. I didn't need to hide how I felt anymore. I didn't need to wear a mask. I didn't care who saw how I really felt. Everything gushed from me like I'd been holding my breath the entire week I’d been gone. Instantly, I felt like I had aged fifty years. I was so exhausted.

  Scouring the crowd, I wearily searched for a familiar pair of green eyes over the sea of heads. I needed a week's worth of sleep and an IV pumping me full of caffeine, painkillers, and vitamin B to bring me back to life, and I needed it all right this second. Not to recover, but because I had less than two days until I was back in the gym.

  No rest for the wicked.

  And as grateful as I was for Kova picking me up, I was reluctant for him to see how fragile I was. I didn't want him to see me weak and that I was ready to collapse at any given second. I didn't want him to see that someone else had the power to make me suffer more than he could. I didn’t want him to see me broken and limping, and on the verge of losing my mind.

  The truth was, I didn’t want him to doubt me. That's what scared me more than anything.

  My eyelids were heavy as I dropped my bag to the floor, fingering the strap and scanning the airport. I blinked long. I could fall asleep standing at this point, until I saw him.

  The moment our eyes connected, my lips parted on a sigh and he rushed forward like a force was pulling him to me. Relief washed over me and I opened up, falling into him.

  "Malysh," he said softly in Russian. "I had a feeling you would be like this."

  Kova threw my duffle bag over his shoulder, then scooped me up and gently held me. I expelled a sigh, faltering in my gratitude. Despite everything and my need to keep our distance, I collapsed in his arms like thousand-pound weights were strapped to my body. I just couldn’t move another step and I think he knew that. I nestled my forehead into his neck and closed my eyes. I should've cared that we were in the middle of an airport where anyone could see us, or that a photo could be taken and used out of context again, but I didn't. I needed him. I needed his strength. I needed to draw from it and build myself up. I needed Kova to make me strong.

  It was like what he’d said that night after Parkettes—he was my strength. I needed Kova to exhale his strength because only he could give me what I needed right now.

  Pretending to be strong took a toll on me, both mentally and physically. Maybe I wasn't the gymnast I thought I was. Or maybe I was, I didn’t know. My mind was a hazy mess. All I knew was that I wasn't used to the physical abuse I’d been dealt for breakfast, lunch, and dinner this past week and I feared it would be more of the same with Olympic training. I guess it was the price we paid for success.

  "Thank you," I said quietly, my eyes rolling shut. I was so damn tired. Kova carried me to his car in under a handful of minutes and carefully deposited me onto his bucket seat like I was an expensive piece of porcelain he was afraid would shatter into a million little pieces.

  He reached over and buckled my seatbelt, his delicious cologne dusting the air, bringing a sense of comfort all around me. I breathed his scent deep into my lungs as he placed my bag at my feet.

  "I don't know if I can do this again," I confessed quietly once we were on the highway. I had another camp three weeks from now.

  He looked over at me, but I kept my eyes on the busy road. I was in a daze. I didn't want to see the disappointment that most likely tinted his features.

  "Do not say that. You do not mean it."

  I shook my head. "How do you get past this bone-aching, mentally-draining feeling and keep going? Right now I feel like I'm never going to recover. I want to roll over into a pile of crushed Motrin, then swim in a pool of alcohol and drown myself in it until I'm numb from the pain."

  Kova chuckled lightly, and I felt it warm my belly. I laughed, holding my stomach, not knowing where my comment came from, but it was the truth.

  "Anything I ate at the camp was monitored and limited. You know I'm already cautious of what I eat, and now I’ll be even more aware from here on out after being verbally abused at the camp by the coaches."

  Kova frowned and shot me a worried look. "What do you mean?"

  "If we weren't being called fat slobs with pig faces and cellulite thighs, our waists were pinched so hard they left nail imprints. We were looked at with disgust and impatience, berated over our weight, and had fear shoved down our throats until we choked with tears. And yet, none of us requested to leave. I wasn't sure we could even if we wanted to. All we were given each day was a slice of gluten-free, dry bread that tasted like shit and a small apple for breakfast, a handful of nuts for lunch, and dinner was some nasty ass frozen meat and vegetable washed down with laxatives for dessert."

  "Laxatives?" he questioned. "You took laxatives?"

  My eyes closed shut as I recalled the horror of being forced to take them and the cramps that followed shortly after.

  "Not by choice. The coaches told us that succeeding at an elite level required intense sacrifices. Judges wanted to see lines, not curves. Once all the national team members arrived at camp, we were weighed and measured before training began. Everything, and I mean everything, was noted. I can guarantee that we'll be weighed and measured again when we go back. Who knew that meant being deprived of food and forced to suck lemons? Sleep was almost nonexistent due to the amount of times we were in the bathroom because of the laxatives. Cramps worse than the period kind, and at one point, I only had water coming out of me. My stomach was on fire, like there were flames growing bigger by the second. Considering how little food we were given, I was baffled the coaches would think there's anything left to expel from our fragile bodies." I shuddered at the thought of the repercussions they'd face if that were the case. "God, I bet this is the last thing you probably wanted to hear. All I'm doing is complaining and telling you gross things. I'm so sorry," I said, and inwardly groaned at all the TMI I’d just shared.

  "You know they are
testing you, right? To see if you have the strength to handle the pressure and sacrifice it takes to train for the Olympics."

  My eyes widened. "So you agree with everything they did and you're okay with it? It's borderline abuse."

  "I did not say that, but I was already aware of most of it," Kova said, turning onto a street. He accelerated. "It is nothing new, Adrianna, and it comes with the territory. There is not one sport where athletes are treated any differently. It is just not spoken about."

  My jaw dropped. "What didn't you know?"

  "The laxative part."

  I blushed a little bit. "Considering we're pretty well-acquainted with each other's bodies, I didn't see the need to hold back, especially on anything that happens inside the walls of the U.S. Olympic Training Site." I stopped when it dawned on me he had the chance to warn me ahead of time but hadn't. Anger shot through my veins and I turned toward him, leveling a stare. "If you knew what kind of conditions to expect, why didn't you warn me in advance?"

  Kova glanced at me. "What would that have accomplished? Would you have changed your mind and given up the opportunity so few are granted?"

  My eyes widened. "No, never, but at least I would've known what to expect. The lightheadedness was so bad one day that I started seeing spots in my vision. I was afraid to perform a tumbling pass because I was terrified I wouldn't land properly or black out midair. My gut said don't do it but I had no choice in the matter. Hunger made my heart pound violently in my chest like I was going to have a heart attack. Another day I straddled the beam and was nearly condemned for it. My fingers are raw, and my thighs are still shaking with soreness, and you didn't think to warn me, even a little bit?"

  Kova was quiet for a moment. I don't think I’d even breathed while I’d berated him.

  In a tedious tone that almost made me regret what I had said, he asked, "Would you have changed your mind if you knew how demanding it would be? Knowing this was your end result, would you have changed your mind? Answer me, Adrianna."

  * * *

  I slammed my mouth shut and bit down on my lips.

  "I did not think so," he said.

  "How did you do it?" I asked miserably, sitting back. I didn't want to fight with him. "How did you push through?"

  I hated myself for the way I felt. Like someone was able to finally break me down while I had no power to stop it.

  "Mind over matter," Kova said.

  "That's all you have for me? You participated in two Olympic Games, almost three, and went through the same treatment as me. If not worse because Russians are freaking lunatics. How did you keep on going?" Lowering my voice, I said a tad dejected, "This is the first time I feel like I can't convince my mind that my body can endure anything like this again."

  Kova gently placed his hand on my thigh and gave me a sympathetic little squeeze. The urge to reach out and hold his hand was strong, but I didn't.

  "You will find a way because there is no other option for you."

  I looked over at him. His shoulders sagged just a bit and the corner of his mouth formed a frown. I noticed his hair was longer than usual, which I liked a lot. It was hair I could weave my fingers through. I wondered if he was growing it out.

  "Tonight and tomorrow will be the hardest for you. You just endured ninety-nine percent more than most people have at your age. You are human. I am not judging you, I would never judge you for that. It is the vicious reality of the game and I get it. How much your body can take versus how much your mind can handle. Two days from now you will not feel that way. Two days you will wake up sore and bruised, and you will ask yourself how the hell you did it, but you will have the determination to go on because you will realize that you survived." He paused, then said, "There is not a shadow of a doubt, because it is what I went through and what I thought. We are cut from the same cloth, Adrianna."

  I mused over his words and thought back to something he’d said when I’d first arrived at World Cup.

  "Your body can endure just about anything, it is your mind you have to convince," I whispered.

  "What?" he asked, pulling into my condo complex and parking his car.

  I repeated what I said and he turned toward me. "It's something you said to me shortly after I got here for the first time. We were in your office going over my schedule after you had me evaluated." I laughed sadly. "You were not happy at all with my performance that day."

  He scrubbed a hand down his face and laughed, then looked out the front windshield. "No, I was not."

  "You were being such a dickhead that night, I couldn't believe it. But I'll never forget the words you said to me about digging deep, how to not expect anything in return, and to push even harder when no one is watching. Your speech awakened something in me and it's stuck with me ever since. I look back on it when I'm feeling lost and confused and use it as motivation."

  "I remember going home that night and regretting the deal I made with your father," he says softly. "I reread all the paperwork I had signed for hours and hours, trying to find my way out of it. Frank is a brilliant businessman who covers every corner. No stone was left unturned. I was at my wits' end when Katja walked into my office and said to me that I always follow through on my deals and to not give up or else I would not be me. I was so aggravated with her when she said that, but she was right. Anything I say I am going to do, I do. So, I changed my view and looked at you like you were a challenge I needed to conquer." He grew quiet. "I just never, in my wildest dreams, expected it to go the way it has. You shocked me in ways I never saw coming. I do not know whether to embrace it or reject it."

  We both sat quietly in the confinement of his car. Kova had shared a very personal side to him and I felt it in my core. It was so rare for him to let me in, but those moments I wasn't often privy to were ones I held close to me because I knew they were real. He looked straight ahead. He sat quietly, like we'd done this so many times. He was open and welcoming and his honesty was far from menacing.

  "We both challenged each other without realizing it. I pushed you as a coach." He turned his head in my direction, and with a tight mouth, he nodded in agreement. "Thanks for not giving up on me."

  We tested each other’s limits, went at one another at a hundred miles an hour without stopping, and the only conclusion would be a beautiful destruction of sinful harmony. We were both aware of it, too, and I couldn’t figure out what that said about us.

  "I could not give up on you, even if I wanted to."

  "Why? Because of my dad?"

  He shook his head, his pupils dilated. "No, I could have easily handed you off to Madeline." His body mimicked mine. He leaned against his door, propping his elbow on the arm rest. "You countered me, you sparred with me. I pushed, you pulled harder. You made me regret my existence ninety percent of the time. You were the challenge I always wanted that no one could give me. I craved you before I even knew you, Ria. Why would I ever let go of that? Every day is a new day with you and something I look forward to. You are what keeps me going and the reason why I wake up each day." The whisper of his last words seemed to mystify him, but he just looked into my eyes to let me know he was being honest.

  Breathing a little heavier, my voice a little throaty, I said, "A sane person would walk away."

  He gave me an all-too-knowing look. I almost laughed. "We both know I am not sane."

  Wasn't that the truth. "You're psychotic."

  "True, but I got the greatest bonus of all."

  "Which is?"

  "You."

  I shook my head and tried not to laugh. My abs were so sore. "I don't think bonus is the right word. Maybe you mean reward."

  Kova smiled softly and I didn't like the way my stomach fluttered in response. Even if I wanted him to have me, if I gave myself to him again, I’d still never have him in the way that mattered most. I’d already learned that the hard way.

  "You misunderstand. Because of where you are now, the national team, that is the reward. It is what we both wanted. The challenge
was getting you there when the journey seemed so dark and daunting. Almost unattainable."

  "It went horribly right."

  He nodded. "It did. Were the sacrifices worth it?"

  I didn't hesitate and looked into his green eyes that I loved. "You know they were." He smiled because he knew it was the truth. "Even if I only made it this far, it was all worth it. Every insult, every tear, every bruise would remain with me forever like a scar on my heart. They were and continue to be the stepping stones of my future."

  Reaching his arm out, the back of Kova's fingers grazed my jaw, but it was his gaze that bore into me that got me. I leaned into his touch automatically, my heart yearning so badly for my coach. When we had these moments, I just wanted to forget all the negative and focus on the positive. His fingers spread out and cupped the side of my face, delving into my hair. His thumb lovingly caressed my cheek.

  It wasn't supposed to be like this. It was never supposed to be like this. And yet, by some unfathomable phenomenon, it was, and I was allowing it despite everything. This wasn't the first time I’d drawn from his strength and words, and I knew in my gut that it wouldn't be the last.

  The truth was, I needed Kova.

  And something told me he needed me just as much.

  Unbuckling my seatbelt, I reached down and grabbed the strap of my duffle bag, but Kova stopped me. I glanced over my shoulder at him.

  "You know you can lean on me. I am always here for you."

  I swallowed. "I know."

  "Tonight will be rough. Probably the worst yet to come," Kova said, his voice low. "Let me help you."

  I wanted so badly to say yes—my heart was screaming out for him—but I shook my head. Kova was a giver to those he cared deeply about, but I had to learn to not take what he offered.