January 31
Dad,
Would you call me a baby if you knew I was sleeping in the closet? Or would you let me fall asleep and then carry me to my bed, like you did when I was little and would conk out on long car rides? I know you expect more from me. I'm trying.
Love, Karen
"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—"
Jackie waved a hand to stop me. "You have to translate gymnastics terms. I'm sadly deficient in this area."
"Oh, right," I said. "An Arabian is like a half-turn in the air to a front flip. But you do it standing with no lead-up skill. It takes tons of leg power."
She was quiet for an agonizing forty-five seconds before saying, "I think a lot of things could contribute to your recent success, but let's hold off on that question for a while, okay? See if things change or continue as they are now."
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