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twenty-eight

. . .

Tony

Rotterdam. I’ve never been to the Netherlands before. It’s such a funny name, I half believed it doesn’t even exist except, one, I got an A in my college geography class, and two, the women’s gymnastics team is one of the best in the world. They’ve won the bronze medal at the last two Worlds competitions.

We’re six hours ahead of Boston. I sent Viv and my siblings a text—separately—when we landed, but now that we’re in the hotel and supposed to be getting settled, all I’m doing is getting more unsettled .

We have three days of training and to get used to the time difference before the opening ceremonies. Then it will be a whirlwind four days of qualification rounds before the six days of finals competition.

Two and a half weeks is a long time to be away from home. Luckily, Susan at the shelter and my boss at the restaurant were understanding. They know this is what I’ve been working toward for the last several months. Years, really. I’ve put so many hours of dedication into my sport. I’m one of the best gymnasts in the world; that’s why I’m at the World Championships.

Now I have to prove it: to everyone else, but also to myself.

Brody and I are sharing a room for the duration of the competition. He immediately collapses onto one of the beds and passes out, but I can’t sleep. I’m wide awake.

Yesterday, Viv and I recorded three videos for Pump It Up Protein. We stood side by side as we talked through the script, making our own shakes. Then we clinked the cups together for a cheers and that was it. There was nothing intimate, nothing about our relationship—except the fact that we were there on camera together.

She posted the first video after I got on the plane and it automatically shared to my page. My phone keeps buzzing with notifications. Already, over two thousand people have commented on the video.

It baffles me how many people are tuning in to watch her. Not that she isn’t great; she’s absolutely fantastic. It’s more how invested they are in us . They didn’t care about me before. I don’t know that they really care about me now, except for a desire to know more about her.

If I have this platform, I’m going to do my best to show the world what gymnastics is all about. Women’s gymnastics gets a lot of splashy attention at the Olympics, but men’s gymnastics doesn’t draw the same viewers. We share enough commonality that the people who tune in every four years should be able to understand at least a little bit of what’s going on.

And hey, even if they only watch the women’s gymnastics at Worlds, it’s still more viewers. More people who pay attention to gymnastics as a whole. The important part is growing the sport. Getting more people watching and participating. If I can give back even a fraction of what gymnastics has given me, I’ll be happy.

I make my way through the hotel to the small garden outside. We’re in the middle of the city center, surrounded by old buildings interspersed with new construction. There’s a chill to the air. November in northwestern Europe is just as cold as Boston. My Team USA warmup hoodie is no match for the weather.

My phone vibrates with a text. It’s Viv.

I’m sure you’re exhausted. I just wanted to tell you that you’re going to kick ass. However you do in this competition, no matter how many medals you do or don’t bring home, my feelings for you won’t change. Your worth is not based on your performance.

My heart jumps into my throat. My fingers type out half a dozen messages before I delete them. I love you. I love you. I love you.

But telling her over text is not the way to do this.

I almost said it during sex the other night. I almost blurted it out at lunch with her teammates. And when we went back to her place and we were laying sweaty and sated in her bed, I almost said it again.

She deserves better. She deserves to hear the words for the first time face to face. I never want her to feel like an afterthought, like she isn’t the single most important person in my life.

Because she is. There’s no doubt in my mind that Viv is it for me. She’s my future. I want to grow old with her. Whatever that looks like— marriage or no rings, kids or no kids, I want her by my side. Whatever her next step is, I want to be by her side.

When I retire from gymnastics, whether I make it to the Olympics next summer or not… I’ll have done so knowing I gave it my all. I’m ready to move on to new things. Vet school. A new career. The next chapter in my life.

And if I play my cards right, hopefully she’ll be there right alongside me.

If I thought the weeks leading up to Worlds was a lot, it’s nothing compared to the amount of training and focus that actually being at the competition involves. Even though I’ve been doing this for most of life, even though I’ve been to two prior Worlds competitions plus the Olympics, I’m still overwhelmed by how exhausting everything is.

After spending all day in the gym, I collapse into my bed and pass out. Brody’s snores on the other side of the room don’t even register.

The opening ceremony passes in the blink of an eye. I barely hear the cheering crowds as each team is introduced to great fanfare. With every fiber of my being, I wish Vivienne could be here. I understand why she isn’t; she’s training, it’s a job for her just like it is for me. Cari is working right alongside her. Al has games he can’t miss to jaunt halfway across the world. My parents can’t leave my aging abuela to come cheer me on.

Brody’s girlfriend and Dylan’s boyfriend came along for the trip. They have tickets in the stands, since they aren’t allowed to be on the competition floor. Only the team staff can be on the floor with us.

The first round of qualifiers is for the team, then we’ll have individual event competition for each apparatus. Dylan has a fantastic day on the rings and Brody nails his high bar routine. When it comes time for me to do my vault, I step up to the podium and let out a shaky exhale.

All of my training, all the blood and sweat and tears; it all comes down to this.

My eyes close for a moment as I try to calibrate. I can practically hear Viv, her steady voice telling me I can do this. I catch a whiff of strawberries and almost believe she’s there.

Coach Jack claps me on the shoulder. “You’ve got this,” he says before he steps back.

Saluting the judges, I take my place at the end of the runway. My heart pounds.

One more breath.

And then I jump into my run, racing down toward the table. I hit the springboard for my round-off and back handspring, then launch off the vault and twist in the air.

One, two, three times I twist, adding an extra half twist at the end.

My feet crash into the padded mat and I use every muscle within me to keep my balance. It takes everything I have, but with only the smallest step, I manage to stay on my feet.

I did it. I landed the vault.

Blood rushes through my veins and I hear the cheers of the crowd. The noise hits me like a punch to the face. Before, I was able to block it out and focus. Now, it’s all I can hear.

“Great job, man,” Brody says, giving me a fist bump as I rejoin the team.

“Good one,” Tommy adds in with a bump of his own.

“Thanks.”

I cut the tape off my wrists as we watch Dylan do his vault.

When my score comes up, Coach Ross claps me on the back. “Good job,” he says, pride in his voice.

Gymnastics scores consist of two numbers: difficulty and execution. Execution counts down from a ten, whereas difficulty is open-ended. In the current code of points, it’s one of the most difficult, but because of that, it’s awarded one of the highest starting values.

My score is currently second in the competition. Out of twenty-four teams and five gymnasts apiece, I’m second.

Fuck. I’ll take that.

Shaking out my wrists, I try to breathe and bleed off the adrenaline coursing through my system.

And that’s when I spot her in the crowd.

Vivienne.

She’s holding a poster board sign that says stick the landing and I’ll nail you and has a smile stretching from ear to ear. She’s here .

All of my aches and pains fade away. All the noise dims.

She’s here. She flew halfway around the world to be here. For me.

My sister is standing beside her, but I barely register her presence.

“You can’t be here,” the security guard barks, holding them back. “The floor is for athletes only.”

Grabbing a folding chair from our team’s section, I drag it over to the barricade, then hop up. We’re almost level now.

“Hi,” I whisper.

“Hi.” She bites her lip. “I hope it’s okay I’m here.”

My mouth goes dry. “Very okay.”

“I missed you,” she says quietly.

My heart gives a painful thump.

“I love you.”

Her eyes go wide. “What?”

“I love you,” I repeat. “I’m so fucking glad that you’re here.”

Reaching for her, I pull her as close as I can before I kiss her. I’m perched precariously on the edge of the chair, my weight balanced on the barricade. If I fall and break my leg, so be it. It’ll be worth it for this moment.

Viv kisses me back, her arms winding around my neck.

“I love you too,” she murmurs against my lips.

I pull back. “Say it again.”

“I love you.” Vivienne’s eyes are bright and her lips are puffy and red from kissing me. “I love you.”