Letters to Nowhere (7 page)

“So,” I said, trying to sound totally casual. “Which is worse? Talking about dead parents with me or talking about female problems?”

He removed the pot from the burner and spun around to face me. “I had no business reading that. Honestly, I’ve never given it a second thought until tonight. I was just trying to impress you, so you’d think I had all kinds of insider information to share.”

I folded my arms across my chest. “Like for bribery or something?”

“No bribery.” He laughed. “Just because guys often do very stupid things to impress girls. Even someone who doesn’t go to school should know that.”

I ignored the comment because it would make my face turn red again if I tried to respond. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Neither option is very appealing, but I doubt your dose of TMI regarding the said female problems will inflict any actual harm to me. Torture, yes, but no long–term damage.”

I twirled my pen around my fingers, not able to make eye contact. “Let’s say,
hypothetically,
that report is no longer accurate and,
hypothetically,
the change was very recent.
Very recent
. Knowing your dad, should I just update him or avoid mentioning it like the plague?”

“I’m not sure…he and I…we don’t really…we don’t talk about much.” Jordan took a deep breath and looked down at his hands. “You probably know him better than I do.”

“That can’t be true,” I said, trying to sound reassuring. “And I don’t want to sit around and chat about womanhood with him or anything, but I am living here and I might need certain—”

Jordan’s mouth formed a big “O” of comprehension. “We’re
all
going to squirm if you tell him. I’ll take you to the store. We can go now. We’ve got at least an hour before he gets back.”

This wasn’t exactly my idea of a fun evening, but honestly, there were a few other things I needed to pick up and I’d never ask Coach Bentley for yet another favor on top of carting me to practice and the shrink all the time.

And how many plug–in air fresheners would it take to get rid of the scent of home in my new bedroom?

“Make sure you turn off the burner before we leave.” I pointed to the stove top and Jordan jumped into action, spinning the knob until it clicked off.

He glanced at his cell phone. “Let’s get back in forty–five minutes, just to be safe.”

***

Jordan froze in the center of the grocery store aisle, allowing his eyes to travel up and down the row of feminine products. “Who knew it was so complicated to be a girl.”

“You could just wait in the car,” I hissed under my breath. “Seriously.”

He shrugged like this wasn’t totally weird or anything. I turned my back to him and scanned the displays, looking for what I needed. He was right. It was complicated. Why did they have so many different colored boxes, and which applicator was easiest to use? All of them claimed to be the best, so how would I know?

“Wow, there’s extra long and super extra long.” Jordan held a giant package of pads in each hand. “I wonder what the difference is in inches. Should we open them up to compare?”

Oh. My. God.

“And how does one know if they need wings or not?” he asked. “Have you ever tried flying one of these like a paper airplane?”

I covered my face with my hands, sure that it would permanently match my red hair after tonight. “Can you not talk so loud,
please
?”

He stuffed the packages back on the shelf. “Sorry.”

The slightly guilty expression he now wore made me think he might have actually been trying to make this more comfortable for me, though he failed miserably. But he probably hadn’t intended to humiliate me. I grinned when I saw what was now right in front of me. I snatched a box of condoms from the shelf and tossed them at Jordan. He caught it midair with catlike reflexes.

“Better safe than sorry,” I teased. “You might not have me to interrupt you next time.”

“You could have given us hours more and I still wouldn’t have needed these.” He examined the box closely. “Besides, they’re not extra large.”

I snorted a laugh.

I found the correct size/style/color/scent of tampons and moved on to the beauty care aisle to get hair ties, gel, and bobby pins. Jordan kept fairly quiet, but seemed unable to stop himself from touching every item on the shelf like a four–year–old.

It occurred to me after a few minutes that maybe he was nervous, though I couldn’t imagine why.

“So, what’s he like?” Jordan asked after the weird silence had fallen on us for much too long. “As a coach, anyway?”

“Your dad?” He nodded. “He’s different from my old coach.”

“Like how?” He sounded totally casual, but I could hear something hidden behind his words. Something more than curiosity.

“He’s quiet. So much that sometimes I’m screaming corrections inside my own head just to fill the space.”

“He knows exactly what he’s doing, too,” Jordan said. “By not saying anything. It’s like my head is spinning sometimes, trying to gauge how pissed he is or if he even gives a shit at all.”

“Exactly.” My eyes met his, knowing that even though we had these thoughts in common, all this was different for me. I didn’t need Coach Bentley to give a shit about me. But Jordan did.
It’s his dad
. It was also none of my business, so I redirected the conversation. “He totally screwed with my head today. It was genius. Complete genius.”

I explained the deal we had made with the new release move and all the requirements that now rested on me.

Jordan laughed really hard as the checkout lady bagged up my items. “Oh man, he’s good. Very good.”

“I know, right?”

In the car, I decided to distract myself by asking him some personal questions. “So what’s her name? Your girlfriend?”

He laughed again, glancing at me with shining eyes as another car’s headlights beamed into us. “I’m assuming you mean Sara. And she’s not my girlfriend. We were supposed to be doing a project together.”

I laughed. “How’d that work out for you?”

“It cost me two hours of sleep last night,” he said with a yawn. “Sara’s not exactly the studious type, so it was left to me to finish the assignment. Lesson learned, right?”

“Somehow I doubt that.” I stuck my hand out in front of him. “Can I see your cell phone?”

When he handed it over, I typed quickly into the phone before returning it. “There. Now you have my number. If you’re ever
studying
again, you can text me and I’ll wait outside the door in the cold if I have to, but I won’t interrupt.”

“That’s kind of you,” he joked.

“No,” I said, turning serious again. “It’s kind of your dad to let me stay with you guys. I just want you to know that I’m not going to forget that I’m a guest in your house.”

Jordan was silent for a couple minutes, staring at the road ahead of us. “I think I need to see this new release move of yours. I heard Stevie’s back in the gym again?”

I didn’t need to ask what he meant by that. The intentions dripped from his tone. I threw him a disgusted look. “So, you make out with Sara for fun, have a weird fantasy about Stacey who happens to be married, lactating, and way too old for you, and now you’re obviously interested in seeing Stevie in a leotard. Are all boys like this?”

“First of all,” Jordan said. “
Guys,
not
boys
. Second…yes, I’m pretty sure we are all like this. Unfortunately. But if you promise never to share this information, I could let you in on a little secret.”

“I promise.” I turned my body toward him and away from the view of the road.

“Most of what
guys
say is all talk,” he admitted. “Not always intentional exaggerations, either. Just us chickening out. So, if you want to know what a guy is really like, my best advice for you is to pay attention to what he does, not what he says.”

I mulled over that advice as we pulled into the parking lot but couldn’t respond due to Jordan’s interruption.

“Oh shit,” he said under his breath. “He’s home.”

My heart raced as I looked down at the two large grocery sacks at my feet. “Should I leave the bags in the car?”

Jordan pulled into a parking space and threw me a weary look. “Still feeling bold, today?”

“Why?”

“I think your best escape is to tell him the truth.”

“I can’t do that,” I said. “I can’t even believe I told you. I don’t talk to boys. Ever. And now I’m buying tampons with one.”

I ignored the heat in my face because I realized Jordan might be right. I’d had a streak of boldness this entire day, starting with my afternoon workout. Maybe this was a PMS symptom?

Jordan’s cell phone rang as we opened the front door to find Coach Bentley standing in the living room, holding his own phone to his ear. He snapped it shut immediately. “What—?”

I glanced at Jordan for a split second and he nodded expectantly toward his dad. “I’m not really sick,” I said. “I didn’t want to tell Stacey the truth.”

His arms folded across his chest, face not revealing any anger, but I was sure it had to be in there somewhere. Elite gymnasts were known for their obedience. I was no exception to this rule. “But where have you two been?”

“Buying tampons at Walmart,” I blurted out, holding up my two sacks. “You can alert the media now. I’m no longer at risk for osteoporosis.”

I stayed in the living room just long enough to see his mouth hang open, then I jetted up the stairs. I might have been feeling more outspoken than usual, but not enough to want to watch Bentley stumble to find something to say.

***

After taking a very long shower, I trudged down the steps in my pajamas and grabbed my hat, coat, and boots before heading out the back door to sit on the patio chair half–covered with snow and ice. Coach Bentley must have been in his bedroom, which was at the opposite end of the kitchen on the first floor.

While bravery still swam in my veins, I dialed Blair’s number, knowing I couldn’t keep today’s events from my best friend. After Blair, I’d call Grandma and let her know, too. Especially since I’d just charged over fifty dollars to her credit card at Walmart.

Then I’d go to bed in a closet, hoping the scent of my parent’s ghosts wouldn’t envelop me in my sleep, invading my dreams.

“I finished the assignment you gave me,” I told Jackie at the beginning of our second session on Thursday.

She took a minute to carefully look over the list I had set on her desk. “Have you had a chance to talk with Coach Bentley or Jordan since Tuesday? Anything beyond the basics of who’s going where and when?”

“You could say that,” I muttered under my breath, thinking of the weird night with Jordan. We hadn’t spoken much since then, but there also hadn’t been much opportunity either. It was a mutual and comfortable living relationship. Much better than I could have hoped for.

Jackie’s face broke into a grin. “All right, spill. What’s the situation behind the blushing? Your secrets are safe here.”

Apparently therapy had turned into gossip hour. But perhaps this would keep us from talking about the one subject I was here to discuss. Especially since the panic attacks hadn’t returned. I made an immediate decision to not tell her about crying over my leotard or Jordan’s blunt mention of my orphan status, and how much lighter I had felt, speaking the truth out loud. But I did tell her everything else. Everything.

Jackie listened carefully and I could tell she was very surprised by my progress over the past two days. These answers were nowhere near scripted.

“So, yeah,” I said, concluding the story. “I’m pretty sure I scared Coach Bentley off. He’s probably going to avoid one–on–one conversation for a while. I think I should let him, you know?”

“It’s probably not as bad as it seems,” Jackie said. “You made a good choice not continuing to lie to him. It would have just added more stress to your life and I doubt you need that right now with your meet season beginning soon.”

“True.” I chewed on my bottom lip, debating a new question. “I know you’re not a medical doctor, but do you think it’s a problem that puberty is just kicking in for me? And is it possible that getting my period and bigger boobs, which will probably be next on the list given my family history—” I froze for a second, wishing I hadn’t brought family into the conversation. Jackie didn’t seem to react or show any kind of desire to switch topics, though. “Is it possible all this could be helping my gymnastics? I really think it might be. Yesterday, I did the best tumbling and beam I’ve ever done in my life and then Stacey started teaching me drills for Arabians on beam, which she’d never even considered before. I mean, it’s so hard and risky—”