The Strongman
15
Charging Ahead
IN CASE YOU were wondering, this was not the beginning of a torrid affair with an older athletic woman. After all, I had a girlfriend and for all I knew, Chantell was married with children. Not that it would have made a difference, because I had a girlfriend, you know.
It was the beginning of a rumor that I could help in the training room as well as on the gym floor. Of course, none of the women who were playing a game or two a week wanted to be sore when they played, I often ended a training session with a six-foot-something Amazon stretched out on a massage table as I worked the kinks out of her shoulders, back, butt, and legs.
“Paul, I need to speak with you a minute,” the manager called me away from the gym. I hustled to her office.
“I need verification that you are indeed a certified massage therapist and not just a nineteen-year-old getting his kicks on my players’ naked bodies.”
“I wouldn’t do that. I have a girlfriend. I assure you that my attention has been strictly professional.”
“So the women have indicated. Can you get me a copy of your certificate so we can display it in the massage room?”
“Of course,” I said. Whatever. I finished my work day and the next day brought the GM my certificate. She nodded and smiled as if she were very pleased with something.
“Your work here the past month has been exemplary, and we have seen you expanding your responsibilities steadily. Therefore, I’m pleased to announce the end of your probation and establishment of a new pay rate of $25.00 per hour.”
“That’s great. Thank you.”
“That does not cover massage. As I indicated when you started here, the pay scale is set by agreement with the union. You are to log your massages and turn that in with your time card. You’ll be paid $50 per massage, assuming that each massage is approximately fifty minutes out of a one-hour session. Will that be satisfactory?”
“Um… Yes, ma’am. That’s very kind of you.”
“You have worked on five of our women so far and I expect that number will increase to the entire team soon. We had a therapist on staff who decided the work was too irregular and there was really nothing else we could have her do between massages. Also, the team complained that she was too weak to do them any good. I hadn’t gotten around to having her replaced until you came along. So, you’ll be filling both roles as a training assistant and as a massage therapist. I will be monitoring the number of massages and to whom so I’m sure no one is abusing the privilege. You needn’t worry about that. I’ll remind anyone who is having too many massages.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Okay. To work.”
I felt like I’d fallen in a pile of shit at the Hennepin Gym and swam my way to the surface of a rose-scented pool at the basketball gym.
“That’s because you are talented and a hard worker,” Tara said that weekend. She was assisting with my Saturday morning tumbling class again. This gym paid us enough that we both got a nice pay packet each weekend. “I’ve been making do teaching some other elementary gymnastics here, but it’s too far for my pairs to come for training. The work is good, but it’s not where I want to be. I trained all my life. I’d like to coach a pair or two to a national championship.”
“I’m hardly fulfilling a life dream, though I’m making twice as much money as I was at Hennepin Gym. There, half of what I made went to pay for gym time and coaches—which I understand you paid for, too. Geez! I had no idea how sleazy the business was. I’m working now and it’s good, but I’m not training for gymnastics,” I said.
“I think we need to continue our search for someplace to get what we really need. You need to look for a coach. I need to look for a place where I can coach a winning team. And I need to be someplace where I can hire a part-time assistant. Jennifer has accepted a new position with a D3 college in Iowa. She’s leaving me.”
“I’m sorry to see her go,” I said. “She really helped me a lot. What will you do now?”
“We’re only nineteen and twenty years old. We have dreams.”
That gave me pause. My dreams had been interrupted by the catastrophe at Hennepin Gym. Tara’s dreams had been destroyed by an accident in Geneva. She was building a new life with new dreams. I owed her my support.
For that night, we supported each other in the most physical and loving way we could. I was seriously thinking that maybe I should ask her to marry me. We’d known each other for nearly a year now. I didn’t want to face the possibility of her leaving to go somewhere else.
Things were going well at work. I was a suitable obstacle on the court and the women were learning to kind of bounce off me in a new direction. Their shots were gaining altitude as they arched more. I was able to block fewer and fewer of them. That was especially true when Chantell started stepping back just before her shots.
The step-back three was not new. There were players who were known for it. But it was not all that used except by that handful of players. Most got as close to the three-point line as possible before they launched their shots. The coach commented on it and investigated the new training she’d been doing.
Chantell told her I’d been working on building her upper body strength and she was definitely feeling stronger.
I could verify that she was feeling stronger. I was seeing her the day before any game for a good massage. Most of the women who wanted a massage saw me the day after a game. No matter how much they practiced, playing for two hours against competition that was as determined as they were was a lot different than practicing against a padded dummy or even the several men who were actually basketball players and provided training. They’d evolved an interesting method in which the opposition at either end of the court in practice had six players. They had the normal five and me. I was simply there to create a moving obstacle on the court, so most players found themselves double-teamed.
It was during a break, when I’d stripped off my pads, that a ball simply rolled up and hit my foot. I saw Chantell grinning under the basket.
“Shoot it!” she yelled at me.
That was not something on my job-list and frankly, I’d seldom actually handled the basketball other than to swat it or nudge it over to a player. She was grinning at me in a real challenge, though, so I figured I’d have to do something. Several of the other players had turned to look. I decided that if I was going to make a spectacle of myself, I’d do it my way.
I trapped the ball between my feet, launched myself into the air in a forward flip, and sent the ball toward the goal with my legs.
This is no fairytale story about how I swished it or anything. I was fortunate that I managed to launch it in the right direction. It fell just a little short and Chantell picked it up. The rest of the team started clapping.
“That isn’t how it’s supposed to be done,” Chantell laughed.
“I’ve never played basketball,” I said. “I was a cheerleader.”
That was only a little stretch of the truth. I was on the cheerleading squad, but I’d never joined them at a game. I was strictly there for competitions when they needed an acrobatic base for the flyers.
“Show us!” one of the other players called.
I figured since we were all on break, it would be okay, so I set off on a tumbling run across the floor, doing flips and twists, tucks and layouts. It was far more difficult than it would be on tumbling mats. The basketball court was not a sprung floor, but I’d worked on the hardwood before.
“Go team!” I yelled when I reached the far side, landed my jump, and raised my hands.
“Thank God he doesn’t do that when he’s blocking us,” another player said.
It was kind of a moment of acceptance. We were headed toward the playoff season.
The first round, in fact, was the next week. The top eight seeds at the end of the season played against each other on September 22 and 23. The four winners went to the semi-finals the next week. From that, two teams would emerge for the championship series. While the play-in was a one-and-done elimination tournament, the championship was a best of seven series.
In the same position our team was in the previous year, we were going against the number three team in round one. As the lower ranked team, we were traveling to our game and I was asked to go with them. I wouldn’t be doing much in the way of workouts with them, but I was taking my massage table.
We got there on Sunday for the Tuesday game, and I had a massage with each of the twelve team members by the end of Monday. The team was feeling good when they went to their shoot-around Tuesday morning and then dressed for the game that evening.
I’ll keep it simple. We lost.
It was a good game, but we just couldn’t pull it together for the win in the last few minutes. Everyone crashed in their hotel rooms after the game—at least I did—and we headed to the airport first thing Wednesday morning for the trip back home.
“It was a good run, Paul,” the GM said when I met with her Thursday morning. “You were considered on the clock for eight hours of massage on Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday. So, your final check shows a little more than you might have thought. What are your plans next? Will you be available next season?”
“Uh… Next season? You mean I don’t have a job during the winter?”
“We don’t have a team here again until May. I’d be happy to have you back with us, then,” she said.
In all the time I’d been working with the team, it never occurred to me that they didn’t continue to practice during the off-season! I was officially unemployed.
As time permitted, I’d been doing searches for gymnastic training that I could afford. There are not that many training programs for senior elite gymnasts and precious few coaches. The truth was that Hennepin Gymnastics Center was one of the lower tier facilities among those few that were available. It, like most of the gyms across the country, specialized in children’s gymnastics, assuming their senior elite gymnasts would either go to a college with a gymnastics program or would be recruited by another training center. I hadn’t had enough exposure in competitions to attract the attention of any other gym.
I made a list of three places I’d like to train at. I decided I’d tell Tara about them to see what she thought at dinner that night.
I picked her up when she got home from her lessons in St. Paul. We went to our favorite restaurant—a little bistro-style place just off Hennepin in Uptown. We could eat there for a reasonable price and the food wasn’t all covered in fattening sauces.
Tara seemed a little reserved. I hadn’t seen her since the previous Saturday before I traveled with the team. I had to start off by telling her I was unemployed because the season was over for our team. That drew a sympathetic pat on the hand and a loving kiss.
“You’ll find something. Are you thinking of going to one of the clubs to offer massage?” she asked.
“I’ve been looking at resuming my training somewhere. I brought along a list of places to see what you thought of them. Anyplace you’d like to go to train?”
“Oh. Um… Let’s see the locations.” I pulled out my top three list and we went through the pluses and minuses of each of the programs. Tara was more familiar with some of them than I was because she’d been traveling and competing long before we met.
“Texas is good, but awfully hard to get into. You really need a top-level coach to recommend you and a record of competition wins. At least, that’s how I got in.”
“Were you doing acrobatics when you were admitted?”
“No. I was like every dedicated little girl who wanted to be a gymnast. I worked on the uneven parallel bars, the vault, the beam, and the mats. That’s where they decided I should be part of an acrobatics team. I loved to tumble, though I was very good on the beam.”
“So, they just put you with Jackson?” I asked. I don’t know why I was probing more and more. These were things I didn’t know about her.
“No. They tried me first with a girls’ team. You know, three girls. The other two were very strong and needed a top. We didn’t get along. That’s when they decided my dynamic was not good for working with other girls. They convinced Jackson to try some things with me and we gelled almost immediately. We were really quite a team.”
There was a wistfulness in her voice that let me know she really missed those days. Really missed Jackson.
“Denver’s a little shaky,” she said, continuing down my list. “I did some inquiries there as well. The current director is retiring. There seems to be a bit of a power struggle going amongst the others and some coaches have taken their performers with them and left.”
“That doesn’t sound good. You’ve been making inquiries?” I asked.
“Yes. This center in Florida sounds intriguing. And they have a residence program. It would give you a place to live while you train. I’m sure you could find massage work, though you might need a license there.”
“Are there any good possibilities for me amongst the places you’ve checked out?”
“No. I’m afraid not. It looks like…” she just stopped and started over once or twice. “I’ve found a place,” she said. “I’m going to move to California. There’s a university in the Bay area that plans to expand their gymnastics program to include acrobatic gymnastics. They actually contacted me. I’m flying out there on Monday to look over the program and if it all looks like they’ve sold it to me, I’ll move there the next week.”
“The next week! Like ten days from now?”
“Yeah. I’m sorry, Paul. There’s nothing here in Minneapolis for me. Without Jennifer, I’ve been at loose ends. I know I’m going to do it, so my apartment is mostly packed up. Maybe we could go to your house tonight?”
“Um… Sure. You… You’re leaving me.”
I was numb and unsure of anything else Tara said. After dinner, she came to my house with me and we made passionate love that kept the tears at bay. But in the morning, she packed the few things she had in my room and bathroom, and left.
She was gone most of the next week, leaving Sunday evening for her flight to San Francisco. When she got back on Friday, she seemed happy. She spent the weekend with me, but we spent a lot of our time together packing her apartment. A freight company truck came Monday morning and loaded her boxes on a pallet, wrapped it in plastic wrap, and loaded it on their truck. She’d rented the apartment furnished, so everything she shipped fit into boxes.
“I can’t believe you’re leaving,” I said. I’d almost convinced myself it was all a nightmare, but I stood beside her car as she was preparing to get in. “I want to come with you. I want to marry you, Tara.” Tears were so close that I was choking on them.
“Maybe someday,” she said. “I’m doing this for you as much as for me. You have a dream, Paul. I was an interruption. You need to follow the dream. Compete. Join the national team. Win the Olympics. My accident ended my chances of fulfilling my dream of a world championship. It’s come near to ending yours. I won’t let that happen. One day, maybe we’ll find each other again. Not today, love.”
She kissed me again and got into her car. She closed the door, fastened her seatbelt, and started the car.
“I love you,” I said.
“I love you, too,” she answered. Then she put the car in gear and drove away.
I love you.
“You really aren’t him, are you?”
“I told you I wasn’t.”
“So. So who did I. Who have I. Who was it—who did I sleep with?”
“That would be me,” said Spider.
“I thought so,” said Rosie. She slapped him, as hard as she could, across his face. He could feel his lip start bleeding once more.
“I guess I deserved that,” he said.
“Of course you deserved it.” She paused. Then she said, “Did Fat Charlie know about this? About you? That you were going out with me?”
“Well, yes. But he….”
“You are both sick,” she said. “Sick, sick, evil men. I hope you rot in Hell.”
[Gaiman, Neil. Anansi Boys (pp. 189-190). HarperCollins. Kindle Edition.]
I hadn’t absorbed much of the book I read that afternoon. I’d just reached Spider’s confession in Anansi Boys, and Rosie breaking up with both him and Fat Charlie. She’d slapped him and stormed away. I had a pang of sorrow for Fat Charlie, who really hadn’t done a thing and was now, presumably, in jail for not doing it.
On the other hand, it would have been a bit of a relief if Tara had been incensed over something I had done, would have slapped me in anger, and stormed off without another word. But she hadn’t. She wasn’t mad at me nor was I mad at her. Our parting had been sweet. Sad. The tears were still there.
Parting is such sweet sorrow.
I knew those words weren’t in this book, and the reading program had progressed two or three pages since I last saw or heard a word of it. I quit the app and glanced at the clock on my phone. Noon. It would be one o’clock in Florida. I opened my phone and called the number of the training center there.
“What? You’re leaving?” my sister wailed when I called to tell her I was going to drive to Florida the next day.
“I need to go down to interview and audition. I’m actually late already. They run on a kind of school year down there and here it is October already.”
“But I never want you to leave!”
“I know, Mikey. It’s not what I planned either. Tara left for California this morning. I can’t go back to Hennepin Gym. The basketball team is closed up for the season. If I don’t do this, I’ll end up flipping burgers. If I could get someone there to take on a big dumb guy. All I’ve got is my gymnastics. If I don’t make something out of it, what good am I?”
“Have you told Mom and Dad?”
“No. I figure dinner will be interesting.”
“I’ll be there. I’m going to go catch a bus right now. Don’t you leave without giving me a hug!”
“I won’t.”
I didn’t realize that Tara leaving would be so traumatic for my family, too. I guess I should have known. It wasn’t Tara; it was me. I was going down to Florida to audition, but I’d packed nearly everything I’d need if I decided to just stay there. Or to go somewhere else from there.
I included a limited amount of camping gear and didn’t plan to stay in any hotels on the 1,600-mile drive. I figured if I left early Tuesday morning, I could be there by Thursday afternoon. If I didn’t make it until Friday, oh well. I just couldn’t stay in Minneapolis a minute longer.
I’d already filled my car with gas and checked the tires. Everything was in good working order. I stopped at Byerly’s and got some steaks, potatoes for baking, and a salad. I got home and got the potatoes in the oven before Mikey arrived.
Even though I’d called her at three, I knew she wouldn’t arrive much before five, even if she rushed to catch the first bus available. She was on the East Bank and that meant she’d have to go downtown to transfer. When she opened the front door, she screamed.
“Paul! Where are you?”
“Kitchen.”
She came running through the house and threw herself into my arms for a big hug.
“That’s not the goodbye hug,” she said. “That one comes before you leave tomorrow.”
“You sure you can get up that early?” I teased.
“Yes. I can’t believe you’re leaving!”
“You will. It is really the only logical thing to do. Since Madison made it impossible for me to work at the gym and basketball season is over, I have to go somewhere to get trained for competition.”
“I know. And I know I haven’t been much a part of your life for the past year or so because of college and your girlfriend and stuff. But I’m really going to miss you.”
“I’ll miss you, too. But we can call each other. You do have my number.”
“Yes, dummy,” she growled.
Mom and Dad got home soon thereafter and I put the steaks on the grill. Mikey served the salad.
“What’s the occasion for such a good meal?” Dad asked.
Mikey scowled at me and kept her mouth shut.
“I’ve got an interview at a training academy in Florida,” I said.
“Congratulations!” Mom said. “When?”
“Friday,” I said. “I’m leaving tomorrow morning.”
“What?” Dad asked. “Isn’t this kind of sudden?”
“Tara left for San Jose this morning. There’s no reason for me to delay going down to Florida for my audition,” I defended myself. I just knew this was going to be time for a lecture from my parents about hasty decisions.
“This is what you want, isn’t it?” Mom asked quietly.
“Yeah, Mom. I need to get back into serious training. The past couple of months not getting regular training is beginning to tell on me.”
“Well, then, let’s eat a wonderful meal together and get you ready to go,” she said.
That was it about the suddenness of the decision. From there on, it was all about what kind of academy it was and whether I thought I had a chance of getting in. Dad wanted to go over my route with me and make sure I was allowing enough time. Mikey was online reading about the academy and showing her findings to Mom.
Then Tara called to tell me she was somewhere in the middle of Nebraska for the night and that she loved me. I told her I had an audition in Florida on Friday, but I didn’t mention that I was leaving the next day. That’s one thing about cell phones. You keep the same number and call the same way no matter where you are. I’d probably tell her tomorrow night that I was somewhere in Illinois or Kentucky on my way to Florida.
Before I left in the morning, Dad pressed a bunch of money into my hand.
“You might need to pay some expenses before you get settled in,” he said. “There’s $2,000 there. It should get you through the trip and a few weeks. I know you don’t plan to come back after your audition. Just don’t forget about us and come home when you can.”
“Thanks, Dad,” I said. “I’ll never forget where home is.”
Please feel free to send comments to the author at devon@devonlayne.com.
