Page 147 of More To Us

"I DO want to see it. I just don't know why you're showing it to me."

"Because I wanted you to see what I could do," she says quietly.

"I know what you can do. I know you're an amazing gymnast and I've told you that. Many times. So I don't know what you want me to say."

"I'm not a gymnast," she says, her voice quivering. "Not anymore." Tears stream down her face. "It's over. My gymnastics career is over."

The way she said it, it's like she's finally accepting it. Like it's finally sunk in that she can't compete anymore. I don't know what got her to this point, but whatever it was, I'm relieved she's finally realizing this has to end. She can't keep chasing a dream that died over a year ago.

"Kira." I slide my hand around her waist and pull her closer. She turns and puts her head on my shoulder.

"It's over," she says, then breaks down crying.

I just hold her and let her cry. It's what she needs to do in order to accept this. She has to grieve the loss of what might have been. The loss of a dream that just isn't possible anymore.

I know what that feels like because I just did it myself. Growing up, I always told myself I'd play music for a living. I thought I'd be famous. Make records. Go on tour. As I got older, I realized it probably wouldn't happen, but until I talked to Paul that day, there was a part of me that still wanted that dream. Now I've let it go, but it wasn't easy. And I know it's a lot harder for Kira because she was much closer to realizing her dream than I ever was. She made it to nationals, which is just a step away from the Olympics.

"You're still a gymnast, Kira," I say when her crying slows. "You always will be."

"I'm not if I'm no longer competing."

I pause, then say, "So if I quit the band, am I not a musician?"

She lifts her head and looks at me. "What?"

"If I quit playing in a band, am I not a musician?"

She thinks for a moment. "No. You're still a musician."

"Why?"

"Because you know how to play the guitar."

"And you know how to do gymnastics. No one can ever take that away from you." I cup the side of her face and look her in the eye. "You'll always be a gymnast, even if you never compete again."

"But I didn't—"

"Stop focusing on what you didn't do, and focus on what you DID do. You made it to nationals. Fucking nationals. Do you know how impressive that is?"

She smiles, as more tears fall down her cheeks. "Pretty impressive."

"Shit yeah. Most gymnasts never make it that far. But you did."

She nods.

"When you were a kid, did you ever think you'd make it to nationals?"

"Not really. I told everyone I would but deep-down, I didn't think I could do it."

"But you did. You were there. You did it. You achieved your dream."

"I didn't win."

"You don't have to win. Not every dream has to end exactly how you imagined it would. Dreams can change. Am I a rock star living in a mansion in LA?"

She laughs a little. "No."

"Then if I go by your standards, I should be pretty damn depressed right now. Because that was my dream when I was ten. I wanted to be a famous guitarist, living in a mansion in LA. But instead I'm working construction in Chicago."

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