Chapter Eighteen

 

Since Trixie’s mother had returned from the hospital and she fought with her father, she hadn’t spoken to Magda, and the only words she exchanged with Tavian had been a few curt and pointed phrases to get his permission for the guests. The thought of making conversation was clearly so draining she stopped talking at practice except when it was absolutely necessary. As a result, Trixie felt isolated, as if she were traveling in a self-imposed fog, slower than the rest of the world, completely and painfully alone. She spent her days expending all her energy simply trying to keep her wits, and every evening she wept uncontrollably into her pillow until pure exhaustion brought peace.

With Shaye sleeping soundly in a bed only a few feet away, Trixie’s breathing came easy and even, and she closed her eyes with a smile instead of through tears.

Shaye’s arrival was as good as reviving Trixie from the dead. Though both girls knew they should be training, even Galya couldn’t see the harm in taking a couple days off. He didn’t want Shaye back in the gym too quickly after such a long trip because her muscles needed time to stretch, and her body required recuperation and adjustment to the time change.

After the first afternoon on the beach, Shaye fell asleep in her bikini around six-thirty. At first, Trixie was upset her friend wouldn’t be at the dinner table, but then she realized she could still dine with Galya and Abby. Finally, she didn’t have to face every aspect of her life alone.

The next day, Shaye convinced them to take a trip to Bran Castle, which she referred to as Vlad the Impaler’s summer home. At the tourist site, she bought a tank top with the fiend’s likeness above the phrase “Got Blood?” She was tickled by her purchase, as well as delighted by the medieval village of Sighisoara, which made Trixie tremendously elated. Her friend was happy, genuinely happy, not pretending for her sake.

On their third day in Romania, Galya said he wanted to go to the gym and meet with Trixie’s trainers and coaches in order to decide how they were going to organize their practices. Since Shaye had suffered through a calamitous antibiotic-resistant staph infection a year and a half ago, he needed to make sure the gym and locker room were up to his cleanliness standards in order to prevent a virus flare-up, at least as much as was in his power to control. In his absence, Abby decided they needed a girls’ day. She said she had been so worried something would go wrong on the trip that she was still wound too tight. Half of Europe’s natural hot springs were located in Romania, and the three of them went to a spa in Mamaia, where they indulged in massages, mud wraps, saunas, relaxation therapy, and baths with healing potions.

As they floated in hot water that smelled like lavender and sizzled with the evaporating salts, Trixie sighed with contentment. “Abby, I don’t know how to thank you.”

“You don’t have to, but you’re welcome.”

“Do you have any good footage yet?” Shaye asked.

“I haven’t reviewed it. That’s why I carry my notebook around. I will say, though, everything I’ve recorded so far will probably only account for a minute or so of the final product. Three minutes, tops.”

The friends’ jaws dropped simultaneously. “But you’ve been taping for hours,” Trixie said.

“Sure, and you’ve been working for the Olympics for ten years. Over half your lives. It’s all going to boil down to about eighteen minutes of actual action to decide your medals. The work behind the scenes is a lot more tedious than the final product would have you believe.”

Shaye asked, “Have you ever made a movie before?”

“No, but I’ve studied documentaries a lot, and I love them. There’s a first time for everything.”

“True,” Shaye conceded. “This is my first Olympics, but I plan on winning.”

Before Trixie could lose her nerve, she sat up straight and said in a rush, “I’m going to do something tonight no one has done since Ileana died, and you can record it if you want.”

Both Abby and Shaye turned to her, looking at her with a mix of curiosity and concern. Abby asked, “What is it?”

“I’m going to go into Ileana’s room.”

“You don’t have to if you’re not ready,” Abby said. “You’ve been so hospitable and generous. You owe me nothing.”

“I know,” Trixie said. “I’ve been wanting to for a while, but I wasn’t brave enough to do it on my own, and I couldn’t ask my parents. Now that Shaye’s here, I thought she could do it with me.”

“Sure,” Shaye said. “Ileana borrowed my lip gloss last year and never returned it. I swear to God, I’ll find it and take it back.”

As they’d been doing since their arrival, they went to the Dalcas’ restaurant for dinner. Soon after they arrived, Galya joined them.

Trixie loved Galya. Truth be told, she had a slight crush on him, though she did not legitimize her fantasies. Like Shaye, she also loved Zarya Prokhor, his wife. That didn’t stop her stomach from flipping a little when he gave her a kiss on the cheek before he sat down.

For the most part, Shaye had been following Trixie’s example as far as what to eat since arriving in Romania, with the occasional input from Galya. Since he grew up in Russia, he was accustomed to eastern European cuisine, but Abby was having a more difficult time getting used to the food.

“What’s iahnie?” Abby asked.

“Bean stew,” Trixie replied.

“And limbă cu măsline?”

Galya said, “I could be wrong, but I think it’s olives.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad.”

“And cow tongue,” he finished, barely stifling his laughter.

“Barf. Pârjoale?”

“Burger,” Trixie said.

“I’ll take it. Wait, it’s not made of lamb intestines or cow testicles, is it?”

“Not that I know of.”

Though Trixie and her father were not speaking, Belu was still willing to make concessions for her, and he prepared a special plate of carrots, eggplant salad, sautéed onions and tomatoes, and small pieces of grilled chicken with okra for the gymnasts.

“Good news, ladies. Back to the gym tomorrow.”

“All right,” Shaye exclaimed, and she turned to Trixie to give her a high five. She tried to equal the enthusiasm but didn’t have it in her to fake it. Truthfully, she was beginning to wonder if she even wanted to keep doing gymnastics. She hoped having Shaye in the gym would rekindle her love for the sport. Since Ileana died, she was using gymnastics as a way to escape the grief and loneliness that pervaded every other aspect of her life. With Shaye and Galya in the gym, maybe it would be fun again.

Even with the trepidation she was feeling about ending her four day vacation, Shaye’s excitement transferred to Trixie, if only a little.

“Oh, my God, Trixie, wait until you see this new thing I’m trying on bars,” she exclaimed, talking loud and quick. “And I can do the one and a half on the beam, I’ve done it seven times.”

“I can’t wait.”

Galya looked at her and gave her a wink. “You okay, Trixie?”

“I’m just a little nervous. After dinner, we’re going into Ileana’s room.”

He reached across the table and put his hand over hers. “You’ll be fine.”

“I know. But I’m still nervous.”

When they finished eating, Galya stayed behind to talk to Tavian, and the ladies headed back to Trixie’s house.

Magda was at the restaurant with Belu, Tavian, and Galya. Ever since she was released from the hospital, she hadn’t been allowed anywhere by herself. If she had been home, they would never have been able to enter Ileana’s room. Magda was determined to keep it as a shrine to her lost daughter.

Trixie could understand why. As long as her room was as she left it, none of this would be real. As long as Ileana had a place to return to, there was a chance she would. It wasn’t logical, but it was the only thing keeping her mother going from day to day.

It was growing dark, and Trixie stood in the dim hallway, her forehead against the door to her deceased sister’s bedroom, Abby and Shaye each with a hand on her shoulder.

“You don’t have to,” Abby whispered.

“Yes, you do,” Shaye countered.

Trixie felt like she was in one of those cartoons where there was a devil on one shoulder and an angel on the other, only this time she didn’t want to listen to either of them.

Shaye made the decision for her. She reached around her waist, turned the knob, and gave her a little shove.

The fading sunlight came in through the window, tinting everything pink. The air was still, stale from being undisturbed for so long, and it smelled of vanilla candles and the sweet lip gloss flavors Ileana collected. Trixie took a deep, shaking breath, clicked on a lamp, and opened the window. She sat down at the end of the bed and hugged one of Ileana’s stuffed animals to her chest. Abby stayed in the doorway, filming the scene, and Shaye examined the photographs on the walls and dresser.

“Trixie, I remember when Galya took this picture.” She held up a frame, and inside was a photograph from the World Championships three years earlier. Trixie won the gold, Shaye the silver.

“We probably wouldn’t even be friends if it weren’t for my sister.”

“Now that’s something to think about,” Shaye said.

“When I won that competition, she gave me a hug and said, ‘My sister is the best gymnast in the world.’”

Shaye grinned. “Yeah, and you turned to her and said, ‘No, my sister is the best gymnast in the world.’”

“I can’t believe you remember that.”

“Can I get a copy of this picture?”

“Sure.”

Shaye opened a small drawer and exclaimed, “Holy crap. There must be a hundred tubes of lip gloss in here.”

Even Trixie had to smile. “Dad said she was too young to wear makeup, so she sort of overcompensated with the lip gloss.”

“Didn’t you always wear makeup?”

“Ileana was his baby. It was different.”

“He would’ve given in this year,” Shaye predicted. “Once a girl turns twelve, makeup bans are futile. What’s this?” She pulled out a bundle of paper in triplicate. “It’s her entry for the Junior World Championships this year.”

Shaye handed her the form, and Trixie took it without a second glance, setting it next to her on the bed. “You know, my dream was never to win the World Championships. And it wasn’t to win the Olympics, either.”

“I know,” Shaye said without turning to look at her.

From the doorway, Abby asked, “What was your dream?”

“I wanted her to make it as an elite gymnast, to get good enough to compete against me. And to win.”

“You wanted her to beat you?”

“I wanted to be like the Williams sisters. I wanted to do my best, compete as hard as I could, to be at the top of my game. And for Ileana to win anyway. Now that will never happen.”

Trixie tried to hold herself together, but the tears began to fall, and she hugged the velvet bear to her chest like it was a life raft and she was drowning.

Shaye turned away from the dresser and gave her a quick back scratch.

The pain of never seeing her sister again, despite the months that had passed, was unbearable. It didn’t surprise her to see her friend dry-eyed. She didn’t cry when she lost the World Championships, and she didn’t cry when she won. She didn’t cry a month after her first world title when she ruptured her Achilles tendon in what could have been a career ending injury. They stayed in contact as she tenaciously withstood the immediate surgery, the resulting staph infection, and the inability to train in the way she was accustomed to for nearly eight months.

This was why Shaye was her hero. After all that, she still repeated as World Champion last fall, blowing away the competition by more than two points.

However, Shaye’s battle-tested resilience was not helpful in the current circumstances. She didn’t know how to deal with a heavily emotional situation, and though Trixie knew her friend cared for her deeply, her response was to turn away and continue exploring the contents of Ileana’s abandoned desk drawers.

Even though Shaye couldn’t offer much by the way of comfort, Trixie did not have the fortitude to stop herself from breaking down. “My sister was always part of my goals, she was always the best part of my dreams. I don’t know how to keep living without her. I don’t know how to go out there and compete and pretend like everything hasn’t changed.” She put her face in her hands, and her entire body shuddered with the force of her sobs.

When she took a second to look up, she saw Abby place the video camera on the bookcase, angling it toward her, and kneel down on the floor in front of her. She put her hands on Trixie’s legs, just above the knees, and leaned forward until their foreheads rested against each other. Gently, she cupped her cheek in one hand and brushed her hair out of her face. She didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to.

“We would all be better off if I had died instead of her,” Trixie wailed, finally voicing what she had been thinking since the moment her sister’s heart stopped beating. She screamed, “She’d be able to keep this family together, she’d know how to take care of Mom, she’d know how to get over this terrible sadness I can’t shake. She was always the strong one, not me. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. How do I go on without her here?”

Abby sat down beside her on the bed and wrapped the small gymnast in her arms, rocking her like a baby as she stroked her hair and whispered, “It’s okay, Trixie. It’s really okay.”

Shaye continued to look at her with empathy and an utter incapability to console.

Thank God for Abby. It was the first time since the nightmare began she was able to absolutely come apart with another human being present to keep her from falling into complete despair with no hope of recovery.

Trixie was reserved by nature, and she did not spend a lot of time hugging others, but she felt like this embrace was long overdue. There was no more strength in her, physical or otherwise.

She was no longer wailing, but her voice was a hiccupping shudder. “I wish I was dead. This is too hard.”

From the desk, Shaye burst out laughing. It was completely unexpected but shocking enough to abruptly halt her sobs. “Do you guys have a Polaroid camera?”

“Ileana does. Or at least she did. Why?”

“Have you ever seen these?”

“What are they?” She held out her hand, and Shaye handed her a packet of about thirty Polaroid photographs. “I don’t get it.”

“I could be wrong, but it looks like Ileana dressed up in your clothes and makeup and jewelry when you were gone and took pictures of herself in the mirror.”

Impossibly, Trixie giggled. She put her hand over her mouth and took a deep breath, still on edge but calming gradually. “I’ve never seen these before.”

“She probably thought you’d be mad,” Shaye said, dotting her lips with watermelon gloss.

“I would’ve,” Trixie said, sniffling in the last of the tears threatening to fall. “That seems silly now.”

Shaye took one of the pictures she had set down on the quilt. “She was adorable, wasn’t she?”

“Everyone said she was the pretty one.”

“Maybe,” Shaye said, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. “But that’s only because she did her best to be exactly like you.”

“I don’t know. In the last year, she wanted to be exactly like you.”

Shaye laughed. “Yeah, well, it helps not to know me.”

“I know you, and I want to be like you, too.”

“I doubt that.”

Trixie shrugged. “You made it through the death of your mother, and I don’t think I can make it through this.”

Shaye threw her hands into the air and exclaimed, “I was two-years-old. I had no idea what was happening, and I was too little to understand its permanence.”

“I’m not little, but I still don’t understand.”

“So stop trying to make sense of it. It’s impossible. Ileana’s death is nothing but dumbass, senseless tragedy.” Shaye shook her head and knelt down in front of her. Subtly, Abby went back to the camera. “I know how much you love her, but that girl worshipped you. She idolized you, adored you in every way. She’s the one who wouldn’t have been able go on without you. Not the other way around.”

Trixie nodded and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. Silently, she continued to slowly flip through the stack of Polaroids of her little sister dressing in her clothes, doing everything she could to be more like her. She couldn’t keep torturing herself trying to find a reason why Ileana had to die. There simply wasn’t one.

“Thanks for coming in here with me. I’m glad I finally did it.”

“Me, too,” Shaye said, tapping her knees with her fists and pushing herself to a stand. “Now your mind will be clear for practice tomorrow.”

“Want to run together in the morning?”

“Hell, yeah. I’ve always wanted a running buddy. And in case I didn’t say it, I think this was very brave.”

“I’ll wait until I see you try all these new tricks you’ve been talking about. Then we’ll talk about brave.”