Letters to Nowhere (16 page)

“How do I make it stop?” I asked him, desperate to keep a nightmare sequel from happening.

“You tell me about it,” he said frankly. “Every time. Give me all the worst details and then your mind won’t have this horrible stuff buried that’s only allowed to come out when you’re unconscious.”

That was when I remembered what he said the other night, about not having anything to offer anyone, except me.
He gets it
. He gets me.

And then my hand was under his blanket, fumbling around for his. The gesture was completely friendly, but the electric shock that surged through my weak and barely functioning body was anything but friendly.

“Jordan?”

“Huh?” His eyes had drifted shut again, and he tried and failed to pull them open.

“I’m sorry you’re sick.”

A smile spread across his sleepy face and he squeezed my hand. “I’m not.”

***

It took me three full days off gymnastics before I was well enough to practice again. Coach Bentley insisted that the fever had to be gone before I returned to the gym. By the time I saw Jackie again, we had missed a full week of therapy (girl talk) together. I knew after what had happened in Houston, I needed to get her to help me with the panic attacks, but I wasn’t sure how to dive right into Mom and Dad when I’d avoided the subject with her for so long.

“Jim Cordes was your coach before Coach Bentley?” Jackie asked me after reading the goals I’d written for my last assignment with her. It felt like an eternity since I’d jotted those down on the flight to Houston.

“Correct.”

“And he’ll be your coach again if you go to UCLA in June?”

“I’m supposed to go in June,” I said, just to force myself to remember the original plan. The plan my parents and I had all agreed to.

“You have some important decisions to make soon, then.” Jackie leaned back in her chair, hands folded in her lap. “Let’s start with Plan B. What do you think your chances are of making the top ten at Nationals?”

“I was sixth at Junior Nationals the year before last and last year I only competed bars but I won, so it’s definitely possible.”
Assuming I don’t collapse on top of a balance beam or show up with clean safe routines lacking difficulty.

“What if you don’t make it?” she asked. “Does it void out all the other goals?”

I swallowed hard. “I guess it does, but it doesn’t void out Plan A.”

“Nationals are in August, so that’s past when UCLA expects you training with them,” Jackie said. “If they don’t know your status and Coach Cordes is counting on you for the team lineup, they’ll have to fill your spot. That doesn’t mean they won’t let you join later on, obviously you’d be a huge asset. But there are some NCAA rules that your elite training would violate—”

“And I’d have to wait for the following season,” I finished for her. This was something I’d thought about a lot lately. My parents and I had gone over all these rules and policies with Coach Cordes before he left.

“Okay, let’s try out a few scenarios,” Jackie said. “Let’s say you stick around a couple more months for Nationals in August and you do make the top ten. Then you go on to make top eight at World trials in September. Then you’re on the team, but not really?”

“They’ll probably send seven to Spain—five on the team, one official alternate, and one secondary alternate hanging back just in case.” I remembered what Jackie had said in a previous session about me needing to explain the gymnastics aspect. “The National Committee has to compose the best team. They don’t need every gymnast to do all four events in the team competition. Not for the final, anyway. They only need three on each event. So, winning at Nationals doesn’t mean you can help fill a void in the vault difficulty score for the team and another girl who placed much lower may have an amazing vault. They could send her just for that.”

Jackie leaned forward again, resting her elbows on the desk. “So, you’re telling me that you could win Nationals, as in first place, and still not make the World team?”

“It’s possible,” I admitted. “Not probable, but possible.”

“You’d give up a whole season of NCAA competition and then not make the final cut for World Championships. And where does that leave you? Do you start college but not join the team yet? Or do you hang around for a year?” She was quiet for a very long moment. “There’s so much here that is beyond your control. I’m a little worried about what kind of damage that can do to you. Are you setting yourself up for failure by wanting something like this?”

She didn’t get it. I knew she wouldn’t. Neither did my mom. “Of course it’s hard. If it wasn’t hard, then success wouldn’t feel nearly as great.”

“True,” Jackie said. “But there’s only about twenty percent of this equation that you can actually work toward. The rest will be determined by other people. What I’m saying is, you don’t have control over the life that is represented in these goals.”

I can’t control a shoulder injury bad enough to need surgery. I can’t control getting the flu.

“What should I write, then?” I snapped, feeling more frustrated than ever. “It’s not like I hoped for an Olympic Gold medal. I do have some grasp on reality. I just haven’t been able to let go of competing in a big international meet like Worlds.”

“Why didn’t you include the Olympics in your goals?”

“But you just said—” I stopped and let out a breath to calm myself before I started shouting at my therapist. That didn’t seem like a good way to prove mental sanity. “You’re contradicting yourself. I’m aiming too high, risking my college career, by wanting to be picked for the World team, but I’m selling myself short by not writing down the Olympics as my goal?”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Karen. There’re pros and cons to both heading to LA in June and giving your elite career a longer run. I think your maturity and dedication is just amazing. I want you to know that.” She slid the goal sheet across the desk, returning it to me. “But I also want you to rewrite these, and you aren’t allowed to include anything relating to making a certain team or a specific rank number, because when it comes down to it, you can’t control those things.”

I can’t control my parents getting into a car and dying…I can’t keep the same thing from happening to me or someone else I love.

“And you need at least three goals that have nothing to do with gymnastics.”

I stared at her blankly. “Like finishing my correspondence courses on time? Or getting all As?”

Jackie smiled. “What are the chances of you turning in anything late or getting less than an A?”

“Slim to none,” I muttered, dropping my eyes to my hands. “I know this makes me sound like a deprived child, but I can’t really come up with three real non–gymnastics goals. I could just make up something, but I’m guessing that’s not really what you want.”

“No. I’d rather have one real goal from you than three made–up ones.” She sighed and I could see her debating something, contemplating tackling a more difficult subject, so I did the first thing I could think of to lessen the sting. It was time to point at this elephant that had been stomping around her office for weeks.

“My parents are dead,” I blurted out.

Jackie’s eyebrows lifted but she didn’t look nearly as shocked as I’d expected. “I know. Does that make this more difficult? Thinking about your future?”

More honesty poured out of me. It was like once I started, I couldn’t stop. And what happened in Houston had me wondering if I really did need help from a therapist. “I don’t know if it’s more difficult. I didn’t even try. These are the same goals I’ve had since before…”

“I know that, too,” Jackie said, kindness seeping into her voice. “I was hoping you’d come to that conclusion yourself.”

So she did have some shrink strategy beyond the let’s–be–friends method
. “I wasn’t lying, either. I still want those things. But I’ll rewrite them for you if that’s what you want.”

“Yes, thank you.” She turned her head to the side, like she was coming up with an idea. “Maybe your non–gymnastics goals should be something that seems almost too normal to write down, but for you it might be something you have to work at.”

“Like getting a boy to ask me on a date,” I groaned.

Jackie laughed. “You’re not going to have to work hard at that. Trust me, they’ll be lined up at your door soon enough. But you might have to work hard at feeling comfortable saying yes.”

“I can’t even imagine asking Coach Bentley if I can go on a date with some guy. He’d freak out, or schedule extra practices so I wouldn’t have any time.” I chewed on my thumbnail, looking anywhere but at Jackie’s face. I had to tell her one of my big issues, if only to exorcise it from taking up so much space in my mind. But which one?
Panic attacks or Jordan? Panic attacks or Jordan?
I repeated it once more in my head before finally letting my mouth decide. “Jordan kissed me.”

“Jordan? As in Jordan Bentley?”

I could only nod, and my face felt like the fever had returned.

Jackie’s forehead wrinkled with concern. “Did it make you uncomfortable? It’s okay to tell me. We can talk about ways to avoid these situations with him or we might even need to—”

“No,” I said shaking my head, predicting the talk she would suggest I have with Bentley about his kid.
Not happening. No way
. “It wasn’t like that.”

Relief washed over her. “What was it like, then?”

My eyes stayed focused on the piece of paper I had practically torn to shreds in my hands. “I don’t know, we talk a lot and it just happened. Then we both decided it was better if it didn’t happen again.”

“Do you talk to him about your parents?”

I nodded, feeling tears suddenly spring to my eyes. I wiped them away quickly, shaking off Jackie’s offer of a tissue. “I don’t want to feel like this. Not about Jordan. I’m trying not to. It’s one of those things, like when you really admire someone or appreciate them but they happen to be a member of the opposite sex, and something inside gets all those feelings confused.”

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Jackie said, encouraging me to explain further.

“I used to have a huge crush on my level nine coach, Patrick. He’s really cute and that’s all the older girls would talk about, so when he turned out to be an awesome coach who helped me through a really tough time in gymnastics, I thought I loved him or something.” I’d been completely ridiculous at eleven.

“You’re comparing apples to oranges. Coach Patrick was too old and you were too young. It was unattainable. Unrealistic. A child’s crush,” Jackie said. “Jordan, on the other hand, is your age, and you’re old enough to have that kind of relationship with someone, therefore, he’s attainable.”

I laughed under my breath. “Obviously you’ve never seen him. I mean, he’s attainable for someone, that’s for sure. He has plenty of options. Trust me.”

“It’s okay for you to like him that way,” Jackie said gently. “And it’s okay for you to value his friendship at the same time. Whether he feels the same about you doesn’t matter. Or at least, it shouldn’t change how you feel. That’s what I’m trying to get you to think about today. What you want versus what you think you can and should be able to realistically achieve. Or even what someone else has decided you should or shouldn’t be able to achieve.”

“So, I shouldn’t list ‘Marry Jordan Bentley’ as one of my non–gymnastics goals?” The absurdity of this conversation made it impossible for me to avoid sarcasm. “Honestly, I don’t really understand my feelings now any better than I did when I was eleven, so it’s probably best if I don’t act on them until I’ve got things figured out.”

“Do you think he has things figured out?” Jackie asked.

“No,” I admitted. He didn’t. He’d said exactly that last Sunday night after he kissed me. “But I know he has more social experience in this area than I do.”

Jackie’s calm expression didn’t even waver when she asked me the next question, though it made me squirm all over the place. “Like you think he’s had sex? Or done something more than kissing, at least? Is that what makes you think he’s on a different level?”

That and the hotness.
“A little…but I don’t know what he’s done. He’s never had a serious girlfriend, I do know that, but it doesn’t mean—”

“Right,” Jackie finished, saving me from saying s–e–x out loud. “The reason I’m bringing this up at all is because girls your age who’ve experienced something as difficult as you have sometimes turn to reckless physical relationships. It’s a way to get close to someone without actually being close emotionally.”