23. Tasha
CHAPTER 23
Tasha
W hat had I been thinking?
If it hadn’t been Mindy’s anniversary, I wouldn’t have let him talk me into it. Partner stunting after all these years? I doubt I could even execute a standing back handspring, never mind a flip in the air.
But I’d always felt safe with Monty. And I believed him when he said he wouldn’t let me hit the floor.
We were partners for sixteen years. We’d worked through coaches who tried to break us up, significant others who couldn’t handle our close friendships and the physical connections the sport required, and pushed ourselves and each other to our limits to be the best in the sport.
He’d failed me when he chose Gabby after our sophomore year of college. He’d broken his promise, and I’d written him off. And then my gassiness startled my new partner to the extent he stepped out of position for my landing and failed to catch me safely. It had been the end of my cheer career.
It was time to forgive Monty, and forgive myself. We were adults now, and if we wanted to repair our friendship—which I realized I so desperately did—it was going to take some work.
And kindness. And understanding. And grace.
The cemetery behind St. Mary’s was about a ten-minute walk from our apartment building, and both of us had opted not to drive there. We jogged home to change into workout clothes, and Monty drove us to the Plex. On the way, he called Nate to see if he was available to spot us during his lunch break.
He was.
This was happening.
Oh my gosh, this was happening!
After warming up—and stretching extensively—we found an open spot by the tumble mats and deferred to Nate to instruct us.
“We’ll start easy, basic.” My former coaching partner looked past me to Monty, standing behind me. “Hands on her hips. Shoulder sit on my count.”
Monty’s hands closed over my hips, his thumbs pressing lightly into the dimples on each side of my spine. I closed my fingers around his wrists and exhaled. My heart was flipping at the rate of one of his tumbling passes. “Ready.”
Nate counted. “Five, six, seven, eight!”
I prepped as he squatted, taking a small hop. My feet touched the ground for the second time, and then I was airborne, landing comfortably in a seated position on Monty’s right shoulder.
“Like riding a bike.” Monty held me in place securely. “Ready for something more advanced?”
“Let’s see if I can nail the dismount first,” I replied warily.
“Count it, Tasha,” Nate directed.
“Five, six, seven, eight! ”
Monty squatted, and I leapt off him, landing cleanly on my feet with my arms tucked tightly to my side.
“Lookin’ good,” Nate praised. “How about raising that sit up an arm’s length?”
“Um …” I looked at Monty. That would require his hand on my bottom.
“I’m a professional, Tasha.” He rolled his eyes. “Your jelly isn’t any different from anyone else’s.”
Nate laughed, and I scrunched my face. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. I stayed in shape and like to think my jelly wasn’t very … jelly.
“Whatever.” I threw my shoulders back. “Let’s do it.”
We got into position, and on the way up, I let go of Monty’s hands and raised my arms in a high V while lifting my right knee up into the liberty position. My bottom came to rest in his palm, and his other hand secured my straight leg.
I was back on the horse. And as cool as I wanted to present myself, I couldn’t stop grinning. “Down in five, six, seven, eight!”
Monty bent and boosted me into the air. His hands found my hips again as I landed cleanly on the ground. I lifted my arms to high-five the guys, still wearing my cheesiest smile.
“Felt good, right?” Nate grinned. “Shoulder stand?”
I looked over at Monty. I had no doubt in his basing capabilities; his private clients consisted of everyone from girls on younger teams to college and national team members. But my balance? Would that come back the way I needed it to?
“I got you.” There wasn’t a hint of anything but determination in his tone.
“Okay.” I looked to Nate. “Like riding a bike. I’ll count.” Same position as last time. Monty’s hands on my hips. My hands on his wrists. “Five, six, seven, eight!”
Hop, jump, soar.
I tightened every muscle in my body on the way up and stared straight ahead of me. Monty held my shoes at his shoulders, then moved his hands to secure them around my calves, locking me in place. It was effortless, steady, and balanced like I was standing on the floor.
Secure.
It was like no time had passed. Monty was still the same partner who synced with me like no other ever could. When I was in his strong, capable hands, I was fearless, fierce, and focused, but more importantly, I felt like I could achieve anything. His touch instantly calmed me. In his grip or in his arms—there was no place I’d ever felt safer.
“Press to full extension!” I called down. “Monty, you count.”
“Five, six, seven, eight!”
I held my breath and kept my body tight as I rose higher.
Breathe.
“I got you, Tasha!” Monty didn’t have to remind me. I could feel it. From my vantage point, I could see across all four cheer floors and up into the balcony.
I’d missed this. The height, the freedom up here. After all these years, it was still a rush!
Nate called up to me. “Back to shoulders or full dismount?”
“How about a cradle?” I asked.
“Let’s do it,” Monty said.
I took in a long breath to fill my lungs. “Five, six, seven, eight!”
Down, up, down, catch .
But instead of dumping me out of his arms, Monty held me in position.
“Hey you.” He pressed his forehead against mine. “You’re amazing, you know that?”
Whew, he was so close I could feel the warmth of his breath mingling with mine. “Save your praise for something more advanced.”
Monty tipped me forward and set me on the ground, holding on to my shoulders for a smidge longer than was necessary. He let go and cleared his throat. “How much more time do you have, Nate?”
“Fifteen minutes or so. What’s next?”
“Cheese mat,” I said determinedly. “I want to see if I can still flip.”
Nate and Monty exchanged a look, then they said together, “We can spot you.”
I laughed. “Okaaaay … No cheese mat.” I looked forlornly at the giant wedge. “Looks like it’ll be up to you two to get these legs around and back to the ground.”
Monty smirked. “It’s not hard. Watch me.”
He took a step back, squatted with his arms straight out in front of him, and leapt backward in a textbook-perfect standing back handspring.
“Show-off,” I teased.
“I learned from the best,” he shot back. The man had the nerve to wink at me.
Oooh, he really knew how to fire me up.
“Whenever you’re ready, Tasha,” Nate said.
“Let me try a few back walkovers first and see where I’m at.” I could still do a backbend; it was part of my stretch routine. But it had been years since I’d pulled my legs over.
I positioned myself between them. “Here goes.” I fell backward, lifting my lead leg into the air. I pulled my core muscles tight as my hands flattened on the ground. Other than a light touch from Nate on my trailing leg, I got over and landed on my feet just fine.
The pride in Monty’s eyes caused a warming in my chest I wasn’t prepared for. He didn’t need to say a word, and he didn’t. But I was encouraged, and I suddenly felt invincible.
“One more time,” I decided. “Then on to harder things.”
Five minutes later, I’d perfected the back walkover, the standing back handspring, and a round-off back handspring.
It felt amazing. And from the look on the guys’ faces, I knew it looked amazing, too.
“I’ve got to get back to the clinic,” Nate said. “But we should do this again. You’ve still got it, Tasha.”
“Thanks for coming down here.” I turned to Monty. “And thanks for making me do this.”
He nodded toward the trampolines. “Next time?”
“Yeah. I think you’ve revived an old monster.”
“Monsha,” he corrected.
We laughed, and he wrapped an arm around my shoulders as we walked through the gym and to his truck.
We were friends again.
We were partners again.
And if Nana’s house was ready next week as projected, I was going to miss him as my roommate.