"Each one of you is here because you are among the best. The best of the very best. Some of you have beaten all odds to be here, some of you have dreamed of this your entire life. Whatever the reason, you know why you're here. You know what you have to do. Give it your best shot. I believe you can do this. Do you?"
Sasha Belov locked eyes with each of his star gymnasts in turn, posing this crucial question at the end of what would be the most important pep talk he ever gave them. They all gazed back, solemn and sure, and shouted out their answer "Yes, coach!"
They did their customary Go Rock! And for Payson every action was now simultaneously sharpened and blurred. She felt the importance of every action she was doing now, but she couldn't bring herself to care. Her entire mind was focussed on her routine. She cheered and clapped wildly as her team mates aced routine after routine. For once, there were no surprises – Lauren performed a flawless Beam, Kaylie rocked the vault, Emily excelled at the Bars and Kelly performed well in all of these.
But the audience that day, the world wide millions watching, would always recall one routine with a kind of emotional clarity – Payson's floors. The theme of the opening of a flower she had only touched upon two years ago had now come to full fruition – she was a flower, that day, as she soared and leaped and folded. Her body was no longer made of flesh and bones, but of words, music and grace, as she told a story with it. Her body was no longer restricted by any kind of physical limitations. Her audience was sure, at least in those 5 minutes, that it would do whatever was asked of it.
And so it came about – Sasha Belov was vindicated. The US team came first in the 2012 Olympics, the Rock girls the backbone of that astounding victory.
It was the first time anyone had seen Sasha Belov cry.
XXX
The celebrations, it seemed, would never end. There was the huge party right after the event, and then the several congratulatory parties hosted all over London by prominent Americans, and there were dinners and soirees, and sightseeing – and in all this Payson wondered if she was ever going to get a chance to do the one thing she really, really wanted to: sleep all day.
On the third day after the win, wearing one of the prettiest dresses she had ever worn – a formfitting periwinkle blue number that perfectly set off her eyes and her lush figure – Payson yawned and wished she was safely home. Now, at last, she was aware of the power of her beauty, but she could not dwell on it. She knew she was the star of this party thrown in her honour by a famous American pop star holidaying in London. She smiled and twinkled and mingled: but in the rare moments of solitude, all she wanted was to run.
She stood on the balcony, glad no one knew she was here, enjoying the clear summer air. It was strange, she thought, how the body's needs always come first. Here she was, having got everything she ever wanted, and she could think of nothing but bodily needs. And thats true on more than one level – unbidden, this thought entered her mind, and she viewed it with wary surprise. Then she heard footsteps approaching. Sighing, she turned to see who it was (smile in place, of course) when she saw – Sasha.
He stood a little way off and viewed her, slowly sipping his red wine. "And how is it that I find the guest of honour, star of the evening – indeed, the century – standing here alone?"
Payson laughed. "I'm just getting some fresh air." She indicated at the beautiful night behind her.
"Ah! You didn't deny you were the star of the century." Sasha looked at her with the familiar mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Can Payson Keeler finally have accepted the truth of her own brilliance?"
Although laughing, he said the last almost seriously.
"Not you too, Sasha!" she said, making a faux sad face. "This is going to sound incredibly conceited, but I'm tired of people's compliments. All I want is –"
"-to go home, wear your comfy track pants, and sleep. Is that right?"
"How did you know?" said Payson, looking at Sasha with wide smiling eyes.
"I'd be a poor coach if I didn't know that." He smiled. "And a poorer friend." He moved closer, leaning into the night air against the balcony railing.
Payson joined him. "Are we friends now?" she said, wonderingly.
"Well, as you've made it clear this is the end of gymnastics for you – that's all that's left for me to be, isn't it, Payson?" He said it lightly, teasingly, but Payson thought for a moment that there was something in the smouldering of his eyes that seemed to question hers.
She dropped her gaze quickly. She realized this was the first time they'd been able to talk – really, properly talk – since the big win. She looked back up, her eyes serious and full of emotion. "I'll always want you in my life, Sasha. You were the best coach I could have had, and you changed me as a person too – for the better."
Sasha's eyes lost the smouldering look. For a moment she thought she saw something strange – a kind of loss – and then the moment passed and Sasha was smiling wide, and hugging her and saying in his gruff voice "I am so proud of you Payson."
She let go, still holding his arms, and the wary surprise took her again. For the first time, in a long time, she had consciously felt some frission when Sasha touched her. A tiny little electrical current. It passed as quickly as it came, and she wondered if it was really there, if she was being drunk, or tired, or both. She looked up, but his face was a mask.
"And my first good deed as friend – I'm going to get you out of here." He grinned and turned. "Well, aren't you coming?" he said, looking back with his kind (if rare) Sasha smile.
Silly imagination, she thought, and grinned and followed him.
That night, as she fell asleep, she vaguely reasoned that her relationship with Sasha was the best it had ever been, that she loved the comfort and trust in their current friendship, and she knew they were the exemplary coach and student. So she really didn't want to complicate matters by opening that box from the past, right?
Right?
She fell asleep, vaguely disturbed by the question mark.