Page 101 of More To Us

"I keep telling you that but you don't listen."

"Come sit down and have coffee with me. I want to hear more about last night." She smiles. "You didn't give me enough details."

"I'm not giving you details. I told you all that I'm telling you."

"You didn't tell me anything."

"I told you we did it. That's all you need to know." I walk off. "I gotta go."

"Where are you going?" she yells.

"Outside," I call back from my room. "I want to get a walk in before Austin gets here."

It's not a walk. It's a run. I need to train today, but since the gym is closed, I'm stuck doing a run, but I'll stop and do some pushups and tricep dips along the way.

"I could go with you," I hear Amber say.

"I think you need the coffee more than the walk," I say, returning to the kitchen with my laptop. Someone recorded Dylan's song last night and I found the video and had it cued up and ready to go in case Amber didn't believe me. She's sitting at the breakfast bar. I set the laptop in front of her. "Here. Watch this."

"What it is?" she asks as I go back to my room.

"Your song," I call back, then close my door. She needs to watch that and hear for herself the emotion in Dylan's voice when he sang that song. I didn't mention that when I told her about it because I knew I wouldn't be able to describe it. She needs to hear it herself.

I take extra long to change into my running clothes, giving her time to watch the video more than once. When I go back to the kitchen, she's staring straight ahead at the wall. I go over and notice she's closed the website that had the video.

"You okay?" I ask, moving my laptop aside.

She slowly nods. "Yeah."

"You want to talk about it?"

"No," she says quietly.

We can talk later. Right now, she needs time to process this. Seeing that video made it real. She could see Dylan and hear his voice, and she could listen to the lyrics he wrote. That's a lot more real than me telling her about it.

"I'll see you later." I take my laptop back to my room and sit on my bed and check my email. I don't use email much, but my parents do and they get mad when I don't check it. There's nothing there except junk mail, but then an email pops up from my former gymnastics coach. It's her e-newsletter that goes out once a month and talks about what's new in the world of gymnastics, what competitions are coming up, health and fitness tips. It's a mix of topics. This month it's all about Talia, a student of hers who is quickly rising to the top. She's only 14 and already winning competitions. I'm happy for her, but also jealous. I want so badly to be her, training for hours a day, preparing for competitions. That used to be my life and I loved it and miss it more than anything.

I click back to my desktop on the file that has my old gymnastics videos. I labeled the file 'funny cats' so if my mom ever snooped around on my laptop, she'd think it was cat videos. I even re-labeled the videos with cat names.

She doesn't want me watching the videos. She thinks it's bad for me. That I'm reliving the past instead of looking forward. We had a big fight about it so I told her I took the videos off my computer, but they're still here, hidden under a cat alias.

I click on the first video. It was filmed when I was 17. I'm on the balance beam, my movements smooth and fluid as I flip in the air. I feel myself breathing in and out with each move, the way I would if I were performing that routine right now. Watching it seems so real. Like I'm actually there doing it. I can still feel the movements my body would make, feel my breath change as I flip in the air, my muscles clench as I hold the pose.

The video ends and I click on another. And then another, my eyes glued to the screen as I imagine myself there again, doing what I love. I'm jolted back to reality by the sound of the bathroom door shutting and then the shower turning on. I check the clock. It's after ten. I need to do my run. I close my laptop and grab my keys and go.

As soon as I'm outside, I take off. I probably should warm up first but I can't. I'm too pumped. Too angry. Too determined. I sprint down the sidewalk that goes by my apartment, running as fast as I can as I replay those videos in my head.

I never should've fallen off that beam, but I did, and now I have to get back to the place I was before that happened. But in order to do that, I have to work my ass off. Pain or no pain, nothing's going to stop me. I'm doing this. I'm going to get back to where I was before. And nothing and nobody is going to stop me.

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