Letters to Nowhere #1 (Completed!)

Letters to Nowhere: Part 52

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."

            Nope. Not me. I get panic attacks and ruin very important balance beam routines.

            "It's not like that with Jordan," I said immediately. "Nothing like that."

            "Okay. Good." 

            Both of us glanced at the clock, knowing time had to be up by now. Sure enough, we were already five minutes over. Jackie followed me out into the waiting room, and because my life seemed to have a way of getting more and more humiliating, Jordan was sitting in the waiting area reading a copy of Women's World.

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