Letters to Nowhere #1 (Completed!)

Letters to Nowhere: Part 4

Normally, on the few occasions I'd ever been late for practice, our second coach, Stacey, would cross her arms, avoiding eye contact, and say sharply, "You're late."

            Then we'd all find ourselves doing extra sets of pull-ups, v-ups, and leg lifts before getting to our first event. Today, Stacey looked right at me, the sympathy wearing thin but still relentlessly hanging on in her expression, and said, "Glad you made it, Karen."

            And she said this completely free of her usual sarcasm. To be honest, Stacey's behavior might not have been one hundred percent sympathy driven. She knew Coach Bentley was responsible for getting me to the gym on time now, and Coach Bentley was her boss.

            Even though Stacey was a total hard-ass and had no tolerance for any typical girl reactions and emotions when it came to gymnastics, two years ago she might have been a better option than Bentley for providing me a temporary home. But the summer before last, she got married to an accountant and now she had a baby attached to her boob almost 24/7, leaving no time to raise an orphaned teenager.

Gymnastics was a tough sport, especially at the elite level, and I couldn't make it a day without the support of my teammates, but during practice we were more competitors than friends. That was just how it had to be, and I never appreciated this more than I had in the last few weeks. The dead parents look never entered any of their faces until we were dismissed by Coach Bentley or Stacey. This was one big reason why I was so determined to stay in St. Louis.

***

January 29

Dad,

Since you're the lawyer and know a lot about anger and bargaining, maybe you can help me with grieving stages 2 and 3 (anger and bargaining). How do I get to 3 if 2 hasn't happened yet? I can't be angry with you and Mom. It wasn't your fault. You didn't want to leave me. I know that. And I don't see how I could ever feel any amount of anger toward you. Not for the accident. Maybe I'm supposed to be angry at the world? But what does that even mean? It sounds like those pageant queens that want world peace. It's not tangible or concrete. Right now, I need concrete.

I couldn't go home. I know I told you that already, but it was really bad. Grandma had to hire movers. I'm sorry. I know how you always think I'm so strong, but that's because I do all my crying and whining in front of Mom. I like that you think I'm above all that girly crap, even if I'm not.

Love, Karen

Stacey ended up coaching us the entire evening practice since Bentley had that parent meeting. After the awkward exchange earlier in the day, I couldn't say I was disappointed by the head coach's absence.

            As expected, right after practice, while my face was still as red as my hair and twice as sweaty, Blair turned back into "best friend Blair" and drilled me immediately with all her concerns. She had no internal censor whatsoever.

            "What if you're, like, walking to the bathroom and Coach Bentley is coming out of the shower or whatever and you get a glimpse of him naked?" Blair had her head flipped upside down as she forcefully ran a brush through her long black hair. "Do you think that image will ever leave your head? How is he going to coach you after you've seen his bare ass or worse—"

            "God, Blair!" Ellen groaned, "Ew."

            I rolled my eyes. "I'm not going to see him naked. Besides, I'm sure we're both mature enough to deal with accidents that aren't preventable."