toward the kitchen when Robin snagged me by the elbow.
My grandfather studied us for a moment before disappearing down the hall.
“You’re supposed to be a stranger, remember?” Robin hissed before releasing me to wander over to the mantle where a photo of a gap-toothed toddler wearing a pink and purple leotard styled for the camera. “That you?”
I reached for the photo and he handed it to me. “Yeah, probably my first year in gymnastics. I would sleep in my leotard the night before because I was so excited to go there.”
“So much dedication,” Robin murmured.
“It was what I was born to do.” At the sound of footsteps, I hastily replaced the photo.
Grandpappy appeared carrying two mugs of coffee in his big hands. He offered one to Robin, who declined and then returned to the kitchen for cream and sugar.
I couldn’t stop staring at him. My grandfather. He was the one who had paid for my gymnastics classes all while I was growing up. He’d showed up to every competition, just like my mother and father and Grammy B.
“So, have you seen her perform?” Grandpappy asked Robin.
“My colleague here is familiar with her work, but I have yet to have the pleasure.” Robin winked.
“Well, we can fix that right off.” Grandpappy set his mug aside and reached for his trusty video camera. My teeth sank into my lower lip at the sight of his gnarled and arthritic fingers maneuvering cords so he could plug the thing into the television. How had I forgotten about his obsession with his video camera?
Probably because after my accident, he’d never brought it out again.
The screen flickered and then my image appeared. I was wearing a turquoise leotard with a golden sun on the right shoulder that sparkled under the gymnasium lights. It was a balance beam exercise, some sort of local competition at Alina’s gym. The slate gray walls, the colorful mats, the music. I knew it wasn’t a standard practice because I never wore the sparkly long-sleeved leotards during practice. The Joey that launched from a springboard on to the balance beam didn’t look much different than my echo self of earlier that morning.
I remembered that routine, had watched this tape at least a hundred times. Much like coaches watching game video to figure out where a team had a weakness, I had studied my technique, analyzing the precision of every flex of muscle and shift of balance. In this particular routine, I had wobbled on a cartwheel but stuck the roundoff landing.
Instead of watching the meet I had lived, memorized, and relived into infinity, I watched my grandfather. His expression surprised me. He always looked so proud of my performance. But now he appeared a little wistful. And was that…did I see a hint of regret? Why? The wobble wasn’t for another twenty-two seconds.
Unable to understand the emotions on Grandpappy’s face my gaze shifted to Robin. His attention remained locked on the Joey on the television screen but as though sensing my gaze, he turned to me and he quirked an eyebrow.
What did he think? Was he trying to reconcile the confident athlete on the television with the middle-aged train wreck he knew?
My shoulders bobbed up and down and I tore my gaze away.
The beam shifted to the floor mat routine. My choreography was solid as I did a roundoff directly into an aerial cartwheel and a stylized salute. Not as much height as I’d been aiming for on the saltos but still impressive.
God, I missed that feeling. Not just the movement and power, the skills I’d spend years developing, but knowing that I was in control. Willing and able to do anything, to handle whatever life threw at me, and know that I could stick the landing.
“We’ve heard your granddaughter is an Olympic hopeful,” Robin murmured.
My grandfather shook his head. “She’s incredible. I’ve never seen so much dedication in a child before.” His brows drew down. “Sometimes I worry she’s too dedicated though.”
My throat went suddenly dry. “What do you mean?”
“She’s not getting the chance to live. To be young. Her mother at that age was forever going out with friends to movies and dances. I spent many a night waiting up to make sure she made it home safely.”
“And you want that for Josephine?” Robin asked.
I nudged him in the ribs. Hard.
“I want whatever will make Joey happy. It used to be gymnastics but something’s changed in her.” Grandpappy shook his head.
“Something like what?” My breath caught in my throat and