It was then that I realized I needed to fix me before I came for you. What I am saying is, I need to find me too in order to be enough for you. I must work on myself to be a better man. I wish I could have you by my side as I figure out who I am, to help me fight this battle raging inside of me to find the truth, but you have already done so much for me, and if you can do it on your own, then I can too. Do you remember when I told you that you inspire me? That has not changed. Your strength gives me strength. I admire the fuck out of you. I was a wreck when you left, but you leaving was the right decision, and the best thing you could have done, not just for yourself, but for me as well. I am glad you left even though every damn second without you makes for a very lonely, miserable world.
I will come for you, but only when I am the man you need, one you can be proud of. One that will never hesitate to put you or our love first. Until them, I will take the time I need to work on myself to be good enough for you, and then, only then, will I come for you. That is a promise I intend to keep. You were once a reflection of me for a short period of time, but now I want to be a reflection of you for the rest of my life. I will come for you, Malysh. And once I have you, I will never let go. I just pray you accept me and have not lost hope in us before then.
I am a man of many flaws and too many sins to atone for. The regret I live with on a daily basis eats away at me. I pray one day you have it in you to forgive me for how badly I have treated you. I will not make excuses for my behavior. I will own them and face them like a man. We had many odds working against us. I just hope I did not chase you away forever. Please, you must know, it was never my intention to cause you pain. I do not want to lose you. You are my other half, and well, I need you in order to be me. I am not whole without you.
You say I left an indentation on your heart. You have done the same with mine.
I see it every day when I look in the mirror.
It is us against the world. I took you for granted, but I promise you I will never do that again. Please just give me a little more time. If you send me away when I come, then I will respect your wishes, but I pray that is not the case.
Until I see you again.
Ya lyublyu tebya vsegda I naveki.
I never contacted him after receiving the journals last year, and still I wouldn’t contact him after getting these. The ball was in his court. It was his move to make. He’d said he would come, so I would wait for the day he decided to show up.
I think back to his entry of how he felt the decisions he made in moments of fear were right at the time. His regret suffocated me. They were right for him, and maybe a little for me. He shouldn't have regret because I too had made decisions in the moment thinking they were right. It was a sweet-and-sour taste on my tongue. My decision to leave wasn't one made out of fear for him or us…I had done it for me. Okay, maybe a little for us. It was a moment of clarity I knew we both needed. If I had acted in fear, then I would not be in Oklahoma now.
He said he gave me nothing. But he was wrong. He helped give me my dream…and myself.
Sixty-One
Three Years Later
I stared up at the screen and awaited my score. My veins filled with electricity and my knees were shaking with adrenaline. My smile was plastered across my face. I'd been competing for two years now, but this was my first televised meet since the Olympics, and I was a ball of nerves. I wanted to prove I still had what it took to be on the team, but it was hard when I knew all eyes were on the girl battling kidney disease and lupus. The support this university, my teammates, and my incredible coaches showed me was invaluable. I competed my heart out. That was my gift to them for what they gave me.
Since officially returning to the sport, my worries were laid to rest once I had sat down with my coaches and we devised a safe plan for me to compete. Committing to Oklahoma was the best decision I ever made. I was iffy when it came to the bigger competitions because I was scared to fail and let my team down. They all reassured me that if they didn't believe in me they wouldn't let me risk it. He'd always told me I shined under pressure, but I didn't have him here with me and I wasn't sure I could pull it off again without his words of encouragement. My new coaches were stellar, I wouldn't complain, but they weren't him.
I glanced toward the crowd. I knew Dad and Sophia were somewhere in the stands. They’d refused to miss this day and booked their flights the moment I was given the schedule for the season. A part of me couldn’t help but wonder if he was in the audience too. My heart said he was here.
The crowd cheered, breaking my wayward thoughts. My teammates engulfed me in a hug and tears once again filled my eyes. I was my own worst critic and their support meant the world to me. These women were the best part about joining the gymnastics team.
I looked back up at the screen in disbelief. My vision blurred and my jaw trembled. I scored a nearly perfect score. I couldn't believe it. I wondered if I would ever stop getting emotional over gymnastics.
Shortly before I began training again, I started seeing a therapist once a week. I felt it was something I needed to do in order to stay healthy as a whole. I didn't want to kill myself for a medal, and it was so easy for me to. I was older now, still living with life-threatening illnesses. I wanted to prosper and fly, and I wanted to do that by accepting what I was physically capable of and being okay with it. Reaching out for help didn't mean I was weak like I had once thought. If anything, it made me stronger. My score told me I'd made the right choice.
My coaches high-fived me as I dropped down by my duffle bag to remove my grips. My smile faltered a little, my happiness dimming. I was over the moon with my score, but it just wasn’t the same without him here.
It was the ninth of January and I was on edge.
His package should have been here Saturday and it wasn't.
I waited in the lobby by the mailboxes, trying not to pounce on the mailman as he slowly stuffed the slots full. Finally, after an eternity, he closed the metal doors and locked up. And I was right there, opening my assigned box before he even walked away. I rifled through my mail where I stood.
No package.
My heart slipped.
My hope died a little.
Another day went by, and another, and another. The week came to an end and still nothing. I tried to go about my life, putting on a smile for everyone around me when I was crumbling inside. A second week had come and gone, and my misery was replaced with anger. On a whim I opened my messaging app and typed in his name.
I’m going to assume my journals were lost in the mail.
I waited for his response. After ten minutes, I texted again.
I know you read my message. It says read.
I sent him a screenshot and circled where it said “Read” beneath my message. Within seconds, the little dots appeared on the screen telling me he was typing. I held my breath, hoping he'd send a response the size of the Bible back.
Coach: I do not want to interfere with your life.