Chapter Seventeen
On the train from Bucharest to Constanţa, Shaye was completely exhausted and sore from the cramped plane ride. At least she was short and could get comfortable easier than most, but without being able to lie down, her neck and the muscles between her shoulder blades were coiled. Abby was willing to spring for first class seats for the three of them, but because they booked the tickets so late, there were none available.
Galya and Shaye met Abby at their layover in Warsaw, and there in the airport, she began her film. Mostly, she recorded them walking through the gate and onto the plane, in her notebook logging the time and describing the scene. When Shaye asked about it, Abby called it B footage, explaining the notes would make editing easier in the future.
On the train, Abby decided it was time to begin the actual film. Surprisingly, she didn’t begin by talking to Shaye. That was fine. She was too tired and cranky to give a good opening interview.
When Abby detailed the topic of the interview, Shaye understood why she asked Galya and not her for the face time.
“Tell me what women’s gymnastics in Romania is all about.”
“You have to go back to Nadia. Perfect ten in 1976, more medals in 1980, she became the female sports darling of the world when she was just fourteen,” Galya began. He loved the sport of gymnastics and knew its history by heart. “Before that, women’s gymnastics was utterly dominated by the USSR. Even after communism fell, Russia continued to dictate competition, and for a long time, the fight for best team in the world was between Russia and Romania, with some Czechs and Ukrainians thrown into the mix. Mary Lou Retton made a splash, but the U.S. wasn’t considered a threat in the sport at all.”
“Who was more dominant, the Soviets or Romanians?”
“In the middle and late-middle parts of the twentieth century, the Soviets for sure. But in the nineties and beginning of this century, the Romanians were the permanent fixtures atop the medal stand.”
“All the talk we hear now is between the U.S. and China. I guess Russia, sort of. What happened?”
“Two things. First off, those two countries pushed the envelope of what is possible as far as big, once impossible skills. Gymnastics moved more toward rewarding difficulty over artistry, which fit both the Americans and the Chinese. China got serious about centralizing the training system, and America brought in coaching influences from Eastern Europe and China to inflict some discipline and proven methods into their training.”
“What was the second thing that happened?”
“Back in 2002, the Romanian national team coach sent all the girls away from their centralized training facility in Deva to train separately at their home gyms,” Galya continued. “The girls were no longer under the iron fist of government training, and they didn’t have to be afraid of their coaches. If you walk into a high level Romanian training facility now, you’ll see even the elite athletes text messaging their friends, giggling with the other girls, completely unfocused. If a girl falls in a competition, their coaches will hug her, give her reassurance. I don’t know if it’s right or wrong, but a decade ago, that would not have been the case.”
Abby asked, “Isn’t that the same approach American coaches take?”
“Yes, but they still demand toughness and excellence. In Romania, it’s almost like they went too far in the other direction. The coaches don’t seem to have control over the training, as if once the central coaching came to an end they were lost as to how to handle their athletes.”
“So there’s no way Romania could surprise everyone and steal the gold from China or the USA?”
“It would take an epic collapse of both teams combined with a perfect effort from Romania. Their skills just aren’t up to it. Beatrix Dalca is their only hope for a medal higher than bronze, and even winning the team bronze will be a battle.”
“Let’s talk about her. What does she mean for Romanian gymnastics?”
“In more ways than one, she’s their only hope. Because of her, girls are serious about gymnastics again. The more competition there is, the more focused and disciplined the elite gymnasts will need to be. Plus, Trixie talks about how hard she trains, how motivated and centered she is. Because of her resurgence, the best clubs in Deva and Bucharest have been revitalized.”
“Can she beat Shaye?” Abby asked, lightening the subject momentarily.
“No one has for over two years, but if anyone can, she’d be the one.”
“Trixie’s little sister Ileana was training at one of the Deva clubs, correct?”
“The Fortress,” Galya specified. “In many ways, the future of gymnastics in Romania depended more on Ileana than her older sister.”
“Why would that be?”
“Trixie is a tough competitor, she works extremely hard, but Ileana was always more outgoing than Trixie, and most importantly, like you said, she was training in Deva. Ileana becoming a champion would have renewed the faith in the system, and much like the Chinese, they were hoping to make it a national program. Granted, in China, there are more girls to choose from, but Romania always had a way of getting the best out of their girls. One nefarious way or another. Most importantly, Trixie is competing in the time of Shaye. It’s not often an athlete can so thoroughly dominate any sport. The field would have been more open for Ileana.”
“Word from the hospital in Timişoara and the statement from the RGF is Ileana hit her head on the support pole of the balance beam, causing a traumatic head injury and ultimately her death.”
“Yes,” Galya said, growing quieter.
“What do you think about that?”
“It’s a terrible tragedy. Ileana was truly a wonderful little girl.”
“What about the injury itself?” Abby pressed.
“It’s not an injury I’ve ever heard of happening, but I suppose there’s a first time for everything.”
“You sound skeptical.”
“Just after the turn of the century, there was a Romanian gymnast named Sabina Cojocar who had to retire because she was diagnosed with a liver disease. Before she retired, the national coach urged her to take medications that had serious side effects due to her age and size and forced her to practice through illness and injury. After she retired, she claimed she and many of her peers had often endured severe beatings as part of their training. Others said they were starved, deprived of their prize money, and completely separated from family and friends.”
“What you’re describing is slavery.”
Galya said, “I don’t doubt it was true because I sometimes saw the same thing as a Soviet gymnast.”
“What do you think all that means?”
“It means Ileana very well may have suffered a freak and deadly accident. But the RGF was looking to move back to the old ways, when they were champions. Ileana was by far the most talented girl in her age group, which meant she would also be expected to do more. The RGF would be looking to her coach, Evgeny Popescu, to lead the way. They were all under a lot of pressure, but only the people in that gym can tell you what really happened. And they won’t.”
Shaye was super impressed by her coach’s elocution. It was as much as she’d ever heard him speak on any topic, and though he was diplomatic, it became very clear to her, for the first time, that he did not believe Ileana’s death was an accident. She had no idea he felt that way.
Abby turned off the camera and jotted a few lines in her notebook before smiling at them. “That was great. Thank you.”
They were on a regular passenger train, so there wasn’t a lot of room to move around. Galya managed to snag four seats together, two facing the other two. Shaye stood up and stretched her arms over her head, the muscles pulling all the way to her tiptoes. She was the only person, save for the little kids, who could perform such a feat with the bins overhead. Then she dropped her arms and grabbed her thighs, pressing her nose to her knees.
“Galya, will you rub my back?”
“Where does it hurt?”
“Lower back and between my shoulder blades. Thanks,” she said gratefully, leaning forward and resting her head on the seat next to Abby. As her coach massaged the discomfort away, as he had done so many times before, Shaye looked up at her filmmaker and financier. “You really don’t think Ileana’s death was an accident, do you?”
“I don’t.”
“Why do you care?”
“Because if someone doesn’t, she won’t be the only one.”
Shaye thought about it. Even though Abby agreed to pay for whatever they needed, she’d still been suspicious of her intentions. That response was enough to convince her that Abby was earnest in her desire to uncover the truth.
As the train pulled into the station at Constanţa, Shaye became very excited. She pressed her nose against the window and began bouncing in her seat.
“It’s so green,” Shaye exclaimed as she took in the sights. “Look, you can see the water out there. That’s the Black Sea, right?”
“It is,” Galya confirmed.
“Can we go swimming?”
“I thought you were tired,” he said.
“I am, I mean I was, but I feel all kinds of energy now. Besides, it’s only noon here. If I go to sleep, it’ll be harder to adjust to the time change.” It was lame reasoning but just practical enough to be convincing.
The train slowed as it pulled up to the platform, and Shaye gasped and jumped to her feet. “Trixie’s here.” She turned to them and realized Abby had begun filming again, but it barely registered. She tapped on the window and waved furiously, and her friend noticed. She jogged across the cement until she was standing outside their car. The train had barely come to a full stop when Shaye flew past the sliding door and into the arms of her best friend.
Shaye pressed her cheek against Trixie’s and felt moisture. “Don’t cry, Trixie,” Shaye whispered, squeezing her tightly.
“I’m just so happy you’re here.”
“Can we go to the beach?”
Trixie sniffled but laughed. “Absolutely.”
Galya and Abby stepped off the train and joined the girls on the platform. “Hey, Trixie,” Galya said. He put down the small bags and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her off the ground in the standard hug coaches give their gymnasts. She rested her head on his shoulder, her thin arms clinging to his neck.
“Thank you,” she said, crying again.
“Believe me, it was all Shaye. I’ve been against this from the beginning.”
He set her on the ground, and Shaye said, “Trixie, this is Abby. She’s making the film.”
Abby turned off the camera and reached out her hand. “I’m so sorry about your sister, but it’s great to meet you.”
“You’re so young,” she blurted out, then her cheeks turned red.
Abby shrugged. “So are you.”
There was an awkward pause, so Galya filled it by saying, “We should probably get to the hotel before we head to the beach.”
“Actually, I was hoping Shaye could stay with me. I set up an extra bed in my room,” Trixie said.
“Sure,” Shaye said without hesitation.
“Also, we have an apartment above the restaurant that’s vacant for now,” Trixie continued. “I was thinking you two could stay there.”
“That’s very nice, but we don’t want to put you out,” Abby said.
“Put me out?”
“It means inconvenience,” Abby clarified. “Make things difficult for you.”
“You won’t put me out,” Trixie said. “I appreciate what you did in bringing Shaye here, how much trouble it was to come here. You’re making a movie, so you should be close to the topic. You can go wherever you want, tape whatever you want, and ask whatever you want. The only thing I ask is to leave my mother out of it. She’s not well. My father, too, as much as you can.”
“Okay,” Abby said. “Thank you, Beatrix.”
“Call me Trixie, like they do. No one but my parents calls me anything else.”
In the cab on the way to their temporary new home, Galya contacted the shipping company they’d hired to move a few boxes of personal items so they could travel lightly and had the containers rerouted. Then they changed into their bathing suits and headed to the beach, where Abby got rare footage of Shaye and Trixie playing together in the water, reading magazines on their towels, and sleeping on the sand. She wouldn’t find many scenes of the two girls, particularly Trixie, as carefree, normal teenagers. There was too much at stake, too much heartache between them to forget their worries for long.