On Wednesday morning in la palestre, it’s just Terence, me and the rope.
I’m practicing the starfish on the mats, and he’s pointing out everything that needs fixing. “Spread out your fingers—that’ll add to the effect” and “I want you to feel the tension, even in your knees.” La palestre seems eerily quiet without Genevieve. I look over at the tissu hanging limply from the ceiling, and for a moment I lose track of what Terence is telling me. I didn’t realize how much I’d miss Genevieve and her wisecracks.
I’m doing my best, but I can’t help thinking that if Genevieve were up on the tissu, I’d be working even harder. From the time we met—it’s hard to believe it was only a little over a week ago—almost everything Genevieve has said or done has annoyed me, but now I see that her influence has not been all bad. Training next to someone as good as Genevieve has motivated me to try and push past my own limits.
“What if she’d hit her head?” I say to Terence when he gives me a short break.
Terence bites his lip. “I’ve been thinking that too. Things could have been a lot worse. But even if it’s just her ankle, it’ll be months before she can do tissu again.”
Which means Genevieve may not be able to apply to MCC next spring. Which, of course, seriously improves my chances of being accepted. I should be happy, only I’m not. I feel empty, as if a part of me is missing.
“Is Genevieve going home to Seattle?” I ask Terence.
“I would think so. Suzanne went back to the hospital first thing this morning. Last I heard, the swelling is down, so Genevieve will probably get her cast today. Once that’s done, she should be comfortable enough to fly.”
“But then we won’t be able to say goodbye to her.”
“I’m afraid not.” Terence gives me a puzzled look. “I didn’t realize you two were so close.”
“We aren’t. I mean, we weren’t…” I picture Genevieve on the tissu, smirking down at me. “Being around someone so talented pushed me to work even harder.” It’s the closest I can get to explaining to Terence why it feels wrong not to be able to say goodbye to Genevieve.
“I know what you mean,” Terence says. “It’s how I felt about Louise.”
“I’m really sorry about what happened to her.” I don’t know why I didn’t think of saying this before. Maybe I’ve been too caught up in my own feelings.
“Thanks,” Terence says. “I appreciate it.”
I hear clattering noises outside la palestre. Terence and I both turn to look toward the sound.
The door swings open and there, leaning on a metal crutch, her right foot in a cast, is Genevieve. She is using the other crutch to hold the door open.
I jog over to meet her. “Genevieve! How’s your ankle?”
Genevieve lifts her ankle to show me her cast. “It’s broken in two places. I have to stay off it for at least a month. Can you imagine anything more boring? But the good news is the doctors don’t think I’ll need surgery.” Her eyes are less bright than usual. She probably didn’t get much sleep at the hospital, or maybe she’s on painkillers.
“I can’t believe you’re here. Terence was just saying he thought you’d be flying home today.”
“Flying back to Seattle today? No way!” Genevieve rolls her eyes. “It would cost my parents a bundle if they had to change my ticket. So you’re stuck with me till the end of circus camp.” Her voice turns serious. “Besides, there’s no way I’m missing the final performance on Friday.”
“I’m glad,” I tell her. “I’d have felt bad if we didn’t get a chance to say goodbye.”
“Those aren’t the only reasons I came back,” Genevieve says.
Terence has brought over a chair for Genevieve. He helps her to sit down and props her crutches up next to her. “What’s the other reason?” he asks.
“Well, I was thinking…now that I can’t train, I came up with another plan to keep me busy.” Genevieve looks from me to Terence, then back to me. “I figured I could help coach you, Mandy. That is”—she turns to Terence again—“if you’re okay with that.”
It’s the first time I’ve seen Terence smile since we heard about Louise’s death. “Of course I’m okay with it,” he says. “I think it’s very generous of you. And keeping busy like that will be good for you, Genevieve. If you really think you’re up for it.”
“I’m up for it.”
I haven’t said a word. That’s because I don’t know what to say. If the situation were reversed, I’d never, ever offer to help train Genevieve.
“So, what do you say, Mandy?” she asks.
I should probably say thank you, but I don’t. “Why would you do that for me?”
Genevieve doesn’t answer. Instead, she has another question. “Wouldn’t you do it for me?”
More clattering outside la palestre saves me from having to tell a lie. It’s Leo and Guillaume. Where did they find skateboards?
“Hey, hey, boys! Be careful of the floors in here!” Terence tries to block them from entering la palestre, but they skate right around him and over to Genevieve.
Leo is holding a bouquet of flowers in one hand. The flowers aren’t wrapped in plastic the way they would be if they were from a flower shop or the supermarket, and the assortment—pink and red petunias, yellow marigolds—pretty much confirms he picked them from a flower box on the terrace.
“Genevieve,” Leo says, stepping off his skateboard to present her with the bouquet, “these flowers are for you…for your convalescence.”
Genevieve takes the flowers and presses them to her nose.
Leo and Guillaume get back on their skateboards. They wiggle their butts and wave their hands in the air. This time, even Terence chuckles.