The Strongman
6
Learning Tara
I HELD MY BREATH all day the Saturday before Christmas. Figuratively. I know, I know. I’d never taken a girl home to have dinner with my family. It wasn’t like I was worried about any of them. Well, Mikey, a little. But the whole thought that I was bringing my girlfriend home for a holiday meal was just too intense to comprehend.
I didn’t have a toddler class that morning. We were all but closed for the holidays. Only those of us seriously working toward a program or competition showed up at the gym. Unfortunately, that included Madison. It had been two weeks since I agreed to spend some time working with her. Coach Daniels, who worked with Madison, showed up as well and started in on us as soon as we set foot on the floor.
We started with some synchronous tumbles and flips, just to see if we were at the same level. No problem there. I thought I could do any move on the mat Madison could do and probably a few more. Which is what Coach Daniels tested next. We started with a couple of throws—something I wasn’t doing with Tara for obvious reasons. Lifts, though, were both easier and informative. The big difference between lifting Madison and lifting Tara was that Tara couldn’t help by jumping more than a little bounce on the sprung floor. Our lifts were all static. Madison could practically jump to my shoulders. She was more athletic than her sister Penny and was unafraid to stand on my hands, even on one foot. Her coach had me work a few times on a pose called a table—lowering myself to the mat, where I was supported on one hand while I held Madison over my head with the other. That was definitely more difficult than anything I’d done with either Tara or Penny, but we managed okay.
“We need to work every morning,” Coach Daniels said. “We’ll start at eight, so be warmed up before that.”
“I can’t do that,” I said.
“What?” the coach snapped.
“I already have my regular partner I’m working with and we’ll be spending most of our time on our routines,” I explained. “Didn’t Madison explain that I can only work with her occasionally?”
“There is no such thing as an occasional partner in mixed pairs. This requires dedication.”
“I’m sorry. I thought that was understood. I am dedicated to my partner, Tara. I can’t be dedicated to both,” I said.
“Not dedicating yourself to this means we can’t compete at the Winter Cup in Louisville and we won’t have a bid for the National Team in June,” the coach said.
“I’m not offering to even attempt to qualify for Nationals with Madison,” I said. “Tara and I are performing in Louisville to get approval for our exhibition at Nationals.”
“Well, that’s just fine. You can’t possibly need as much time to prepare for that. I’ve seen your routine. It’s basic. You could prepare that in an hour a day and have plenty of time to work with Madison. It would do you much better to actually be in a competition than doing an exhibition.”
Coach Daniels had no intention of taking no for an answer. I thought I was done with bullies. Apparently not. Madison had a smile on her face as though she’d already won. A single glance over to where Tara was working with her physical therapist, though, and I knew exactly where I was going.
“I’m sorry you’ve wasted your time this morning,” I said. “I need to go work with my partner now. Good luck, Madison.”
I left the mat and an animated conversation between Madison and her coach.
“You know, she might be right,” Tara said when I told her and Jennifer what had gone on in the session. “We could probably do everything we’re doing now in an hour a day instead of three. If you really want to compete with her, I’d be willing to make the adjustment,” Tara said.
I was horrified.
“No! I mean, we’re making progress. I’m finding out more about what you can do every time we practice. I need to gain confidence that I won’t hurt you and we could do all kinds of things,” I said enthusiastically.
“Don’t take that thought too far,” Tara laughed. “What do you think, Jennifer?”
“I think that if Paul really wants to learn what you can do, he should join our PT sessions. We could let him gradually take over some of your exercises and training,” Jennifer said.
“Could I do that?” I asked.
“I couldn’t turn you into a physical therapist,” Jennifer laughed. “I had to get a doctorate. There’s no way around that.”
“I didn’t know you’re a doctor!” I said. “I’m going to graduate from high school with the bare minimum requirements. It would take forever for me to learn everything to be a doctor!”
“Maybe, though from what I’ve seen, you’re smart enough. Have you considered becoming a personal trainer or massage therapist? You might not be ready to coach senior elite gymnasts, but I’ve seen you with the toddlers. You could coach the lower levels and kids who are just getting started.”
“I could talk to Coach Dawson about expanding that role,” I said. Knowing that I wasn’t in line for a shot at this year’s Olympic Games in Paris, made training for the next Olympics seem like a long time from now. I was going to need to earn some money eventually.
“Okay. You can start by helping me massage Tara’s legs. Tara, go to the massage room and get ready. Leave your leotard on. Paul, just follow what I do and I’ll teach you what you need to know,” Jennifer said.
Tara went into the massage room and a few minutes later, Jennifer knocked. I heard Tara say, “Okay.” We went into the room where Tara was lying face-up on the table.
“Um… Is this okay, Tara? I mean for me to massage your legs.”
“Hey! Maybe you’ll awaken more feeling in them. Have at it. Massage some life into these dead sticks.”
“Don’t let her fool you,” Jennifer said. “She does have life and feeling in her legs. It’s reduced, but still there.”
“If I’d known you were going to invite him to massage my legs, I’d have shaved this morning,” Tara laughed. She was blushing a little. I think I was, too.
She was wearing her usual workout leotard, so she was completely decent. It wasn’t the first time I’d touched Tara’s legs, obviously. I lifted her, swung her, held her, and propelled her. But it was the first time I’d touched her legs with the intent of just touching them, and rubbing them, and feeling the muscles in them, and feeling how soft and smooth they were. I had to go inside myself to where I went when I was working with the cheerleaders. I had to not think about her as a sexual being.
I followed Jennifer’s instructions and copied her movement. It was funny that I could almost see in my mind how all the muscles were connected and where the damage was. Once I got to that point, it was a lot easier to focus on the intent of the massage instead of the feeling of her body.
We worked on her legs for half an hour and then had her roll over onto her stomach so we could work on the backs of her legs, her butt, and lower back. Of course, we worked outside her leotard, but it was cut rather high and I found that I was not only squeezing her butt, but actively working on it to find the connections Jennifer was pointing out.
So, maybe I could control my reactions while I was working on her, but somehow, I knew a very active fantasy was waiting for me to get to bed that night.
Jennifer was our coach as well as Tara’s therapist, but we’d had another woman working on our choreography. After the therapy session, we warmed up and then went to work on our routine. There were a couple of figures we could get into, but the transition wasn’t smooth.
For example, if I supported the small of her back, Tara could bend over backwards and put her hands on the floor. Bent double backwards! We’d worked on having me lift her in that position and it was fine. But the classic figure would have her with her hands on mine and bent in that pose horizontally instead of vertically. Getting from one pose to the other was just impossible.
“Let’s try your handstand, Tara,” Jennifer said. “Paul, on your back, hands up. I understand you’ve done this with your cheerleaders standing on your hands. This will be similar, but Tara will be standing on her hands.”
“Cool,” I said.
I lay down and Tara took her position. It took us a few tries before we got the right height for my hands to be so Tara could use her phenomenal upper body strength to pull herself up. She wasn’t quite able to get her legs up, but standing on her hands in a folded position was still good.
“Okay, switch to one hand,” Jennifer commanded.
I wasn’t sure of what she was going for until I felt Tara let go of my left hand and move both her hands onto my right hand. This was really cool. I’d held Penny once with both her feet in my right hand, but Tara was doing a handstand on my hand.
“Paul, keep your arm vertical and stable as you elevate your body into a table with your left hand.”
I’d seen this figure in videos and had just done the table with Madison. I knew the objective was that the line from the bottom hand of the base to the tip of the top’s—in the videos it was a foot. With Tara it was her butt—should be perfectly straight and vertical. I elevated myself so that I created a right triangle with the mat, my body, and my arm. Above me, Tara stayed steady on my extended right hand. We held it until I felt Tara start to tremble. Jennifer stepped right in and caught her as she dismounted.
What a rush!
After our workout, we stretched and I rubbed Tara’s shoulders and arms. They’d been worked even harder than usual. We each headed for the locker rooms and showers to get ready to go to my house for dinner with the family.
I helped Tara to the door of the house. After asking if I minded carrying her at times, she decided to leave the wheelchair in the car and just use her crutches. I didn’t mind carrying her, anytime. I’d kept the walk shoveled and clear of ice, so I suppose I didn’t really need to carry her to the door, but I did.
Let me emphasize that Tara had some use of her legs and she was nineteen years old. She was beautiful and she sure showed it on this day. She wore a skirt that came to mid-thigh, knee-high black boots, and a form-fitting red sweater. She was wearing a little more makeup than usual, but nothing like the stage makeup girls wear when performing. In short, she was gorgeous.
I set her down inside and took her coat before my sister practically knocked us over, rushing to hug us.
“I’m home!” she yelled as she grabbed me. I kept one arm around Tara to stabilize her. “Oh, I just knew you’d be beautiful! Hi, Tara. I’m Mikey.”
“I knew you’d have more energy than all of Paul’s five-year-old tumbling class!” Tara laughed. “It’s nice to meet you, Mikey.”
“Michelle, at least let them come into the house,” Dad said from the living room. “We don’t need to overwhelm them. Let the floods rise slowly.”
“Come on in,” Mikey said contritely. “Mom’s in the kitchen. But I was the only one who hadn’t met you.”
“Can I help with anything?” Tara asked as we followed Mikey.
We stopped at the living room so Dad could give us each a hug and welcome us, then continued to the kitchen. Mom was whipping potatoes in a big bowl and everything smelled incredible.
“We’re almost ready to set things on the table,” Mom said. She turned to us and hugged Tara. “It’s nice to see you again. I’m glad you could spend some time with us before you go home for the holidays.”
“Oh, it’s a welcome treat. I’m not going back to Arizona over the break this year. Two weeks off was too good an opportunity for Paul and me to work on our routine. We made some great strides today.”
“We sure did! I’m sure we can take that all the way up to a stand. You were phenomenal!”
“Oh, you’re staying here in town? Do you have people here? You are more than welcome to join us for Christmas, and whenever else you’d like.”
“Thank you. I don’t want to impose,” Tara said.
“I have a feeling the only way we’ll see my son is if you are here,” Dad laughed. “Make this your home for the holidays.”
That was a lot more of an invitation than I ever expected. I probably needed to explain some things to my parents or they’d assume things that weren’t true.
In fact, Dad managed to maneuver me aside when the women went into the living room. Mom really loved the living room because the big window in front looked out over the lake. Her reading chair was positioned right where she could look out at the various lights on the other side of the lake.
“We’ve never had this discussion, son, and now I feel it’s a little rushed,” Dad said. “First, your mother and I talked. You’re almost nineteen and we don’t want you feeling you’re a stranger in this house. You have your room and bath. It’s well separated from your mother’s and mine. Don’t feel like you have to sneak around to be together. You have a home here and we’ll welcome your girlfriend in it. Second, please tell me you know about safe sex and you’re using protection.”
“Dad! Tara and I are dating. We aren’t sleeping together! That’s not an option right now,” I said.
“I didn’t realize her injury prevented sex,” Dad said. “I’m sorry. What do you plan to do?”
“Wait! I don’t think her injury prevents sex,” I explained. Damn! I did not want to have this conversation with my father. “Tara and I agreed that as long as we’re performing as partners, at least, sex is not an option. It has to do with her previous partner and we’d rather not discuss it with the family.”
“Oh. Oh. I see. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have made assumptions. The only example I had was your sister and to her ‘dating’ means ‘sex.’ I should have known you had more common sense than she has,” Dad said, shaking his head.
Me? More common sense than my sister? You’ve got to be kidding. If sex had been an option, you bet I’d have gone there. I was in love with Tara. I would do anything with her or for her.
We played some games as a family and Tara was very competitive. Of course, games meant getting to the basement to the family room and home theater. Mikey carried Tara’s crutches down the stairs and I carried Tara. She chose to ride on my back and I deposited her on the sofa next to where I’d sit. Mikey started to sit there until I scowled at her and she giggled before moving to the chair.
After the game, Mom and Dad went all the way upstairs to their room. Mikey stayed with Tara and me for a while, but seemed to figure out that I wanted a little time alone with Tara.
“You know, you can stay here if you want,” I said. “I don’t mean with me. We have a guest room and everything you might need, I think. I hate the idea of you going out in the cold to go home.”
“That’s sweet of you,” she said.
We finally got around to kissing, which was probably what my sister expected we wanted to do. There was just something about being on the sofa together instead of reaching across the console of the car that made kissing a lot more like I imagined making out to be. The kisses were a lot hotter than anything we’d had before.
“I’d better get going,” she whispered. We were both out of breath. “I have a night routine that requires a little help. Help I don’t think I’m ready to have you do.”
“How do you handle it at home?”
“Jennifer is my physical therapist, my coach, and my helper companion,” she said. “We try to make sure we each allow the other her independence, but there are a few things I just need to have help with.”
“I had no idea. I wondered where you lived.”
“There’s an assisted living residence not terribly far from the gym. If Jennifer needs a break or is out on a date, there’s always someone there who can help. During the day, I’m pretty independent, but Jennifer helps me dress and shower in the locker room. She really is a godsend.”
“I didn’t even know people like her existed,” I said.
I carried Tara upstairs with her crutches and helped her into her coat. Then I took her out to her car and shared another long lovely kiss when I got her into her seat.
“Goodnight, girlfriend,” I said.
“Goodnight, boyfriend,” she responded.
I stood outside in the cold, watching her drive away until she was out of sight.
I admit, I wasn’t all that sure what to do with a girlfriend. I mean… Yeah… I was eighteen years old—almost nineteen—and I’d watched enough crap on my computer to know how the parts fit together, but what do you do with a girlfriend? Especially one who is partially disabled? We were clear with each other that we weren’t going to have sex anytime in the next six months, at least. We liked kissing, but we didn’t do any feeling each other up. And besides, that wasn’t what I meant by what to do. That’s all just the sex and romance stuff.
What do you do?
Well, Tara and I talked a lot. She told me what life was like for a dedicated gymnast on an Olympic track from an early age. Her dad was some kind of political mucky-muck in Phoenix and got there through his wealth, the way Tara told it. But that was also what enabled her to have private tutors and hours of dedicated training every day from the time she was little.
“One day, my tutor told me I had an assessment test to take,” Tara told me. “I figured it was just one more thing I had to do and rushed through the stupid thing so I could get back in the gym. A couple of days later, my tutor showed up with my diploma—a GED certificate—and said, ‘Congratulations. You’re out of school.’ And that was it. My tutor left and all I had to do each day was work out in the gym.”
“I might end up having to try that,” I laughed. “If I get a successful completion in the four courses I’m taking this spring, the school says I can graduate. They’ve already had me on the books for an extra year. If I don’t graduate, they don’t really care. I’ll be nineteen and no longer required to go to school. I guess, for that matter, I could quit school now, but my parents would be really upset if I did. I’m still depending on them to pay for my training and home.”
“I turned sixteen a week after I got my GED. My father set up a bank account and trust fund for me that would last a normal person for years, then went with me to the courthouse to file my emancipation papers. The day they were approved and I became an emancipated teen was the day Jackson and I went all the way. It was kind of a celebration. We’d grown so close through two years of training together that it was a natural step.”
“I can’t even imagine how hard the past three years have been for you. Do you have enough money now that you aren’t performing?” I asked.
“Oh, yeah. My father didn’t wash his hands of me. He just wanted me to have the freedom I needed to pursue my life goals. After the accident, I went back to live with him for a while and he found Jennifer for me. She is a regular full-time employee of his company. I don’t know what I’d do without her.”
“Um… Do you mind if I ask what about your mother?”
“That’s one that only brings up a kind of wistful emotion when I wonder what it would have been like. I never really knew my mother. She was killed in a drunk driving incident before I was a year old,” Tara said.
“I hate hearing about drunks killing people on the highway. Can’t they have the least decency not to get in their cars?” I said, thinking I was supporting Tara with my declaration.
“Yeah. My mother never should have gotten in the car. She was depressed, on drugs, and drunk. I’m just glad she didn’t kill anyone else when she went.”
“Oh my God! Your mother was the drunk driver. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to be offensive,” I backpedaled.
“Take it easy, Paul. You weren’t offensive. It’s true. Drunks shouldn’t get in their cars. Someone will be hurt or killed. In my case, my mother was killed and my father and I were left behind. He had enough money to hire a couple of nannies and enough awareness of my life to let me pursue gymnastics. Now, tell me something about your family.”
“Hmm. Well, I guess my mom, dad, and sister used up all the intelligence our family was allotted and left me with nothing to show for it.”
“Come on. You aren’t stupid,” Tara laughed.
“No. I’m just slow. I think I’d have done fine in school if the subjects were stretched out over the full year instead of nine months. But my family is all really smart. Dad’s an engineer. Mom’s head of human resources for a manufacturer in Bloomington. My sister thinks she’ll become an environmental engineer and is only seventeen and a freshman in college.”
“What’s made the difference for you?” Tara asked.
“I think when I discovered gymnastics, life really changed for me, you know? Not exactly the way I thought it would. I thought if I got really strong, no one would bully me. I saw the athletes at school and how popular they always seemed to be, so I thought that becoming strong would make me popular, too. And if I was popular, I’d have no trouble getting dates and finding a girlfriend. It’s all a lot different than I expected.”
“Are you popular now?”
“No. If anything, I’m kind of an odd man out, you know? They still think of me as the dumb kid—just big and dumb instead of little and dumb. Held back so I didn’t graduate with my class. Scary to the kids who are all younger than me.”
“Are you still getting bullied?”
“Um… No one is stuffing me in a locker, if that’s what you mean.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I get bossed around a lot. The cheerleaders treat me like a servant who is only there to pick them up and carry them around. And Madison’s coach—well, none of my other coaches have ever tried to humiliate me into doing something. Is that bullying?”
“Maybe so. What about getting girls to pay attention and having a girlfriend?”
“Sneaky. Having a girlfriend means I don’t really care about any other girls paying attention to me. It makes me really happy. I’m glad you are my girlfriend.”
“So am I.”
Please feel free to send comments to the author at devon@devonlayne.com.
