22. Monty
CHAPTER 22
Monty
W ednesday morning, I stayed in bed until I heard Tasha leave for work. For hours, I’d been awake while the last moments of Mindy’s life played on repeat over and over.
She’d been going through treatment again, and I’d heard her doctor advise my parents against taking her home for Mom’s big birthday bash. Dad had been adamant they sign off and even promised to hire a nurse. It was only for a few hours. What could go wrong?
Mom insisted it was fine; they could celebrate in the hospital and cancel plans or postpone her fortieth birthday bash. But Dad cut her off, reminding her there was a good chance this would be her last birthday with Mindy. Mom walked away crying, and the next day, we brought Mindy home. A nurse met us at the house and got her situated in a recliner in the expansive living room. After cake, Mindy asked to go lie down. The nurse took her into the first-floor guest room while Mom and Dad said goodbye to the guests.
Rain was in the forecast, so many of the guests opted to leave early. Me, at eight years old, played a video game on my Nintendo DS on the divan in the corner of the bedroom. At 9 p.m., the nurse left. Mom came in to lie on the bed with Mindy, holding her close and stroking her hair as she slept.
I must have fallen asleep, too, because when I woke up, Mom was screaming at Mindy to wake up and for Dad to call an ambulance. I raced to the other side of the bed, and what I saw made my blood chill.
Mindy’s eyes were closed, and she was struggling to breathe. Her IV was beeping, drained of its liquid.
“What’s taking so long?” Mom cried. “They should be here!”
Dad got on the phone again and hurried out of the room. I ran after him, outside and into the storm. At the bottom of the hill, flashing lights blinked through the rain. The siren shrilled uphill to meet our ears.
“Stay in the house!” Dad ordered.
But I didn’t. I followed him into the storm and down the incline to the bottom of the aspen-lined driveway, where the paramedics were trying to move a fallen tree out of the way just inside the gate.
“Fire rescue is on the way!” one of the men shouted. “Do you have a chain saw?”
Dad shook his head and joined the men trying to move the tree. I pulled at a sturdy branch, and together, the four of us moved the tree, inch by inch, just enough for the ambulance to get around.
The medics jumped inside and raced up the hill. Dad and I trudged back to the house, soaking wet, as they were loading Mindy into the ambulance. Mom climbed in after her, and they took off before we could reach them.
I never got to say goodbye to my sister .
By the time Dad and I got to the hospital, Mindy had slipped into a coma. Three days later, she was gone. And we were all changed forever.
My parents leaned on each other, and I had Nana. By the time I left for prep school, I was practically living with her. She was my rock, my everything.
I visited her pretty regularly, at the gravesite, but on the anniversary of her death, I liked to bring her sunflowers and a new cheer bow, which I hung on a sticky hook that miraculously had lasted through years of weather. She would have been a FireVolt if she’d lived, and I had no doubt she would have made Team USA if she tried out. Lucky for me, there was always a girl on the team who’d accept ten times what her bow was worth after competing so that I’d have a bow to give Mindy. I’d spend the whole day here at her gravesite, chatting about the things I thought a big sister might want to know about.
This year, I’d called Taylor to ask if she could make a special FireVolts bow, like Tasha’s, but add “Honorary” in vinyl over the word “Coach.”
Today wasn’t much different than previous years, except I wouldn’t be leaving to pick up Nana and bring her here to sit with me on Mindy’s favorite blanket, a fuzzy worn-out supersoft flannel she’d received with a gold medal and championship ring at Summit after her last competition.
“Our Worlds team is going to win. I can feel it. Tasha is by far the most creative choreographer I’ve ever known. And I’m not just saying that because she used to be my best friend. She’s incredibly talented, and I believe she should be on the team, too. She can dance circles around those girls. And I’m sure she could still do the stunt work. But she’s refused to try ever since she broke her leg. ”
Soft footsteps padded on the walk behind me and came to a stop. I didn’t turn around, but my heart knew who it was. I wondered if she’d been close enough to hear me talking about her.
“I’m so glad you suggested to Mom and Dad all those years ago that I go to ‘baby cheer camp.’ Even though I was mad it just was mornings and you got to go all day. But you knew it would be good for me. You always knew what would be good for me. And I met Tasha there.”
I was ninety-nine percent certain it was Tasha behind me. Anyone else would have shown themselves by now or made a noise to alert me to their presence. All I heard was quiet breathing and an occasional sniff.
“I didn’t know until I met her how desperately I needed a best friend. You were awesome, of course, best sister ever, but the five-year gap between us meant I didn’t get to see you much. I’ll never forget that first day of camp. It was pretty boring until the first water break. This girl with a long ponytail and enormous red bow tapped me on the shoulder and told me I was doing my forward rolls all wrong.” I used a high-pitched voice to mimic four-year-old Tasha. “That’s not how you do a forward roll. Watch me!’ And right there, in front of all the other kids by the cubbies, she raised her arms, clicked her feet together, and demonstrated, telling me when and where to tuck my head. She stood up with a flourish and raised her arms in a triumphant V. It was pretty amazing.”
Above me, Tasha snorted. I took that as encouragement to keep telling my side of the story. “She worked with me until the end of the water break and said, ‘That’ll have to do, for now. Stick with me and you’ll be the best boy here.’ So I did. Coach called us back from break and instructed us to pair up. Tasha scooted over to me, and I took her hand. I wanted to be the best boy so badly.”
I closed my eyes, wanting to picture one of my favorite memories.
“We’re going to try a basic stunt. Decide which of you will be the base and which will be the flyer.”
“I’m the flyer,” Tasha informed me.
That settled that. I didn’t even know what that meant, but she did. She was so smart.
“Bases, you’re going to kneel down and sit back on your heels. Put your hands out in front of you like this … and tuck your head down in front of your knees to create a surface for your flyer. Flyers, you’ll stand next to your base and place your inside foot on their bum. Raise your hands into a high V and hold your position. Be very careful not to hurt or stomp on your base.”
Some of the kids giggled but not me and Tasha. This was serious business to us. I did as the coach instructed, and Tasha made a few adjustments. “Tuck your head like this. But not all the way because you might have to look up and smile for the audy-dance.” Not very gently, she pushed my head into place. I felt her foot on my bum a moment later.
The coach came around to make adjustments but didn’t touch either of us. “Great job, you two! No adjusting needed here. Look at me on three with your cheer face … One, two, three!”
I popped my head up with my happy mask—that’s what Mindy called it.
“Great job! Now hit your toy soldier positions for me. Awesome! Give your partner a high five!”
“We’re the best girl and boy here!” Tasha said gleefully. “Will you be my partner forever?”
“Yeah! We’re the best! ”
Her eyes narrowed. “To stay the best, you’ll have to work hard. Promise?”
“Yeah, I promise.” Whatever it took, I wanted to be the best, like my sister.
“Spit on your hand and let’s shake on it.” Tasha spit on her hand and held it out to me.
I quickly did what she asked and clasped my hand in hers.
“Ew! You two are gross!” a girl said. “Why did you do that, Tasha?”
“Ignore her,” Tasha said. “That’s my cousin Gabby. She’s just jealous ’cause I’m partners with the best boy.”
“I’m not jealous!”
“Yes, you are!”
“No, I’m not!”
I stepped back, sure that they were about to fight, but the coach came over and Gabby stalked off before they could be reprimanded.
Tasha turned back to me. “Partners forever?”
“Partners forever,” I promised.
A promise I’d broken epically.
I opened my eyes to find Tasha sitting on the blanket next to me. “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?” I asked.
She shrugged. “It was slow. Thought I’d come out here and pay respects to the awesomest tumbler I’ve ever known.”
“Hey, I thought I was the awesomest tumbler you’ve ever known.”
She rolled her eyes. “Please. If Mindy were here today, she’d flip circles around you.”
“Yeah, she would,” I agreed. I turned my gaze from the gravestone to the woman beside me. “Thanks for coming by. It means a lot.”
Tasha held my gaze and nodded. “I heard you talking about our first cheer camp. We totally rocked it.” She smiled wistfully. It was considerate of her not to mention the part about me breaking my promise. “Remember the one before you went to boarding school in Denver?”
“How could I forget? We won the senior-level partner challenge.” It stung to say the word “partner.”
“The first of four straight titles.” She smiled broadly.
“We totally deserved it. No one else was practicing lifts in the pool until lights out.”
“And after.” She snickered.
We might have broken a few rules over the years.
I smiled. “Then, after high school, we became coaches, and then it didn’t matter if we were in the pool after lights out.”
“We were dedicated, for sure.”
“We were.”
During that third summer of coaching together, between our sophomore and junior year of college, we’d devised new crazy stunts in the pool, and I began to see Tasha in a different light. She’d been struggling with some health issues, and I knew she’d been in a lot of pain. The way she fought through it made me admire her even more.
So much more, it interfered with my concentration.
My greatest fear was dropping her, letting her down literally and figuratively. I didn’t think through my decision to partner up with Gabby, how it could hurt Tasha and have lasting effects years later. I figured it was best for the team because, well, because Tasha had become … distracting.
She’d never asked me why I’d done it, and I was glad, because I’d never wanted to tell her. But sitting here, knowing she’d come here to support me, left work even, it felt like the old us—the old us before I broke our partnership .
I was feeling a growing need to explain, and she’d given me the segue to do it.
“That next summer, camp wasn’t the same without you,” I said quietly. “That whole year leading up to it, and every year since, hasn’t felt the same. The FireVolts weren’t the same without you. The national team wasn’t the same without you.” I turned to face her. “ I wasn’t the same without you. I’m so sorry I requested a new partner and broke us up. I’m sorry your new partner was a hack and dropped you. I’m sorry that drop broke your leg and ended your performance career. I never would have let you hit the ground.”
She looked away, and I watched her cheeks twitch as she struggled to keep her emotions inside. “I wasn’t upset at first. We had a new coach, and new coaches always liked to mix us up, try us out with other partners. But they always put us back together when they could see what we could do. But you stopped coming early. You’d arrive just on time and then rush out, leaving us no time to practice and show them what we could do. Then I found out you requested Gabby. That’s what stung the most. You knew how competitive the two of us were.”
“I was there when you found out, and I’ll never forget the expression on your face. I ran into the bathroom to throw up. I knew instantly I’d hurt you and lost my best friend.” I hung my head.
“The betrayal was unbearable,” she whispered.
When I looked up, she was swiping at her eyes and staring off toward the church. An apology wasn’t enough.
I owed her an explanation. “That was never my intention, I promise. You remember that last summer we coached at camp together? We were working on a new kick-out? ”
She nodded. “I practiced it every chance I got. I wanted to be the first to master it.”
“And I wanted that for you. Instead of the pool, one night we walked down to the lake and swam out to the floating dock so I could toss you higher over the deeper water. The only light was the full moon, and it was enough. We did it over and over and over again.”
“We finally got it. We high-fived and decided to do it one more time. You launched me, and then you fell in, too.” Tasha turned her head back to me. “We got tangled under the water and came up laughing.”
I sucked in my breath. “We steadied each other. And then…”
“It got quiet. And we just stood there.” She tilted her head. “You were looking at me weird. A mix of pride, joy, and something else. What was that?”
I sighed. I’d almost kissed her. And it would have ruined everything. “It was … something else. And it freaked me out. After that, I became more concerned with you not falling than I was with winning.”
Tears welled in her eyes. “Is…” She swallowed. “Is that why you broke up our partnership?”
I nodded.
“I thought … all this time, I thought … I thought…”
She covered her face with her hands and started to shake. My heart raced. Did she understand what I wasn’t saying? Did it repulse her? I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her to me. “What did you think?”
“It’s too embarrassing!” She shook her head.
“It can’t be more embarrassing than me admitting I ditched you because I was crushing on you. Spill. ”
Tasha stilled in my arms and sat back. “Promise me you won’t laugh.”
“I promise.”
“I—I was having problems with my stomach that summer. I was on new meds, and I was very gassy. I know on more than one occasion I couldn’t hold it in and?—”
I did want to laugh, and it was hard not to. But I wasn’t going to break any more promises to her. I pulled her back to me and tucked her head under my chin. “I noticed, and I didn’t care. Not one bit. You were in pain, and I felt helpless.”
“You didn’t care? Really?” She pushed her hands against my chest. Her tear-streaked cheeks cracked my heart. Her eyes locked on mine and waited for me to answer.
“Really. Why would I? I actually thought it was cool. Made you human. I loved you more for it—Tasha’s Standards of Perfectionism are hard to achieve. Piece of cake for me, though, of course.”
“Of course,” she mumbled. “Um … That’s why he dropped me.”
“Huh?”
“That’s why he dropped me.”
I scratched my head and lifted my eyebrows. “I missed something. Why did he drop you?”
“I … startled him?”
I knitted my forehead in mock confusion. “I’m not connecting the dots.”
She pushed at me and laughed. “Don’t make me say it out loud!”
“What? That you tooted your horn?”
“Oh my gosh!” She slugged me in my bicep and jumped to her feet, pointing and waving her finger at me. “Don’t ever say that again!”
“What? That you broke wind? Cut the cheese? Dropped a bomb?”
“Aaaah!” She covered her ears, but she was laughing. “Stop!”
“On one condition.”
“Anything.”
“Come to the gym with me. Give us a chance to prove we’re still the best.”
Tasha took a step back and shook her head vehemently. “No way. It’s been years. ”
“It has. And it’s time you got back up on your horse.” I stood up and folded the blanket. “I promise I will not let you hit the floor.”
“I … um … the high school team practice starts at three thirty.”
“Plenty of time.”
Her gaze swung toward Mindy’s gravestone, then back at me. “Okay.”