Chapter 12: Exhibition

I GUESS I didn’t look great when I showed up at the gym for my toddler class Saturday morning. I had a bruise on my left cheek and another on my left arm.

Tara and Jennifer were especially concerned when they looked at my hands. My knuckles were scraped and my hands were really stiff. I had to tell them about what happened with my sister. Tara was horrified.

“You can’t do that kind of thing!” she said. “If you were accused of some kind of violent behavior, the committee might rescind our invitation. And you’d have real trouble finding any partner willing to work with you. You have to be careful. Bases are known for their strength and for working with small tops. Most people would think of us as fragile. We might not be as fragile as the public thinks, but if you were known to have been fighting, people would pull away.”

“I didn’t want to,” I said petulantly. “What could I do? My sister was in danger.”

“I know, Hon. And I think you did the right thing. It’s just really frightening and dangerous on so many levels. If Madison asks you about it, just say you fell during a practice routine.”

Of course, Madison did ask and that’s what I told her. I don’t think either she or Coach Daniels believed me.

We had a party at the house on June sixteenth. Some of the folks from the gym came. Of course, Tara and Jennifer and Bob. My family. Mikey was without a date. The occasion was my graduation from high school. I hadn’t had to attend anything since Memorial Day, and I chose not to attend the school ceremony. I was sure the school was happy to have me out of their hair and didn’t need the embarrassment of having me seen with a bunch of real students.

There were a few of those other students I knew had graduated with a doctored transcript. There were plenty of students who were no smarter than me, and a number of athletes who simply didn’t need to try. I wondered how many of them would actually succeed in college when professors refused to pass them so they could play basketball or football.

But Mom and Dad wanted to have a celebration that I’d made it, so we held that on the day of graduation. There were some gifts. Most were pretty modest. I didn’t expect people to bring me a lot of loot for having passed the lowest standard of public education. Mom and Dad, though, had taken me out the previous week and bought me a car.

It wasn’t one of the popular teen cars. Sure, I’d love to have a RAV 4 or a Volkswagen, but I was more concerned with the ease of getting Tara in and out of my car. We still usually took her car on dates. It had been an unusual evening when Mikey called me and as it happened, I had Mom’s car. So, I agreed with getting an inexpensive Chevy Trax. It had a more spacious interior and was still low enough to the ground that Tara could get in and out easily.

Mikey got me the next most elaborate gift. I think Mom and Dad might have had something to do with it. She got me a portable massage table. Well, I didn’t really have much in the way of clientele that I’d go to visit, but I was progressing nicely and maybe after the exhibition, I’d be putting more time in on massage.

I guess she must have coordinated things with Tara and Jennifer. Tara bought me a selection of massage oils and Jennifer got me a full set of linens for the table. I needed sheets for under the client and to drape. Then I also needed towels so they could wipe themselves off if there was too much oil. The gifts were all very thoughtful.

We had a great time, and after everyone left, Tara and I spent some time ‘testing’ my table. That led to some pretty heavy making out and eventually I got her dressed and out to my car to take home. I was very near to just carrying her up to my bed.

We were only a week away from our exhibition.

On June twenty-fifth, Tara and I approached the floor at Target Center in Minneapolis to do our routine. I definitely felt we’d upped the level of our acrobatics since the Louisville competition, and I thought our story was really beautiful. I wasn’t expecting the turnout for our exhibition that we had, though.

Like at the Louisville competition, the general space at the arena was divided up with the kinds of events that would be held in each of them. The special needs gymnasts had all performed and had all received their medals. Some of the routines were so simple as to be over before I realized they’d begun. For example, a girl carefully approached the mat and stood at the edge. She breathed deeply before jumping about six inches off the floor and landing on both feet. She raised her arms in the air in a perfect pose for a gymnast after sticking a landing. Then her trainer rushed to the floor and caught her before she collapsed. She was carried back to her wheelchair and waved at everyone.

On the other hand, there were some kids with less obvious handicaps. They did routines on the uneven parallel bars that were only performed on the low bar, for example. A Down syndrome girl did a whole tumbling exercise across the mat, and then landed in her final pose. When she started to walk off the mat, though, she wandered as if the whole thing had made her dizzy and her coach rushed to help her off the mat.

Nearly all the other events that were happening that day were over and competitors were just practicing on the equipment when there was a general announcement over the arena PA that former national champion Tara White and her partner Paul Bradley would be performing at the acrobatic gymnastics station. The announcer proceeded to inform everyone about the tragic accident that occurred four years ago and of Tara’s valiant effort to overcome the restrictions imposed by her injuries.

It was a lot different than what we’d prepared for. We were told there would be no general announcement and that those who were there would see us and those who weren’t would miss it. Instead, the stands emptied from the rest of the arena and filled the area surrounding the acrobatic gymnastics floor. That included all the other teams that would be competing in acrobatic gymnastics the next day. The stands around us were filled—many of the gymnasts having joined the spectators just to show support for one of their own who had been injured.

My parents and sister were out there. I knew Madison and her sister Penny, and Coach Daniels were attending. At one point, I thought I saw Mr. Fields, my lit teacher, in the stands. When everything had quieted down, we got the nod and approached our starting positions.

Our black unitards were perfect for this routine. Our new choreography was elegant and the music was stunning. The choreographer had chosen an old Paul McCartney song, but it was a new rendition by a female artist. When the tone sounded and our music began, I started to circle Tara, lying on the floor. Then I reached down to bring her to a stand and swing her around slowly. When the words started, our routine really took flight—so to speak.

Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these broken wings and learn to fly
All your life, you were only waiting
For this moment to arise

Then I launched Tara into the air and she looked like she was truly taking flight. Usually, audiences are respectfully silent during an acrobatic gymnastics routine so as not to distract the performers. But when Tara took flight, there was a sudden and loud cheer from the audience. Tara was back.

When the final reprise played, I used a cannonball launch to put Tara into her double salto. Instead of letting her reach the floor for her landing, I caught her above my head with my hands around her hips. Our ending pose was with her over my head, her arms outstretched like wings and her legs out straight behind her. We held that pose for the three seconds to the end of the music and then for another couple of seconds as the audience applauded. Then I brought her down into my arms to stand and bow to the audience.

There was quite an ovation for the girl who returned to perform in her chosen art and I was happy just to have been part of her triumph.

Of course, even though the competition and events were over for the day and no score was posted for our routine, we weren’t finished. They had things set up for a post-performance press conference. I guess they often interview the champions in various classes. Regardless, Tara, Jennifer, and I were led to a small dais with microphones on it and a dozen or so reporters were there. I was told it would be streamed as well as recorded for television and newspapers.

Wow!

“Tara, how does it feel to be back?” asked the first reporter.

“Yeah. Well, I’m just so thankful for the people who believed enough in me to make me do the work to get back to this point. I hope I’ll be able to show them how much I appreciate them.”

“Tara, what are your plans next? Will you compete?” asked another reporter.

“Um ... Yeah. I mean, that’s a tough decision. I’m twenty years old and if you check the ages of the competitors on the national team, I don’t think you’ll find a top anywhere near that old,” she said. I noticed that she didn’t indicate it was because of her abilities. “I’ll be looking for ways to help other gymnasts achieve the dreams I missed four years ago because of the accident. I’ve been taking instruction in coaching and I think I have a good perspective to bring to that side of the game.”

“Paul, what was it like working with Tara. This was your first time out in this kind of setting, right?” asked another reporter.

Shit! I didn’t expect to be asked any questions!

“Tara is phenomenal. Every day she grew more confident and agile. If she decided she wanted to compete again, I’d be begging her to continue as her partner.”

There was more, of course, but it all sounded pretty much the same from there.

We went out for dinner with our family. Jennifer handed Tara a folded-up paper as we sat at the table. We weren’t competing in anything, so no score had been posted at the arena. The judges, however, actually compiled a score sheet for us!

We didn’t score over thirty. I was pleased, however, to see that our score was better than what Madison and I had done in Louisville. I didn’t think I’d share that with Madison or Coach Daniels.

After dinner, I took Tara back to her apartment. Jennifer had said she was spending the night with Bob, so we had the apartment to ourselves.

“Paul, you’ve been a perfect partner,” Tara whispered as we sat on the sofa kissing. “You’ve never asked for more than I was willing and ready to give. I know that I’ve carried the baggage of what happened to Jackson and me, and I’ve held you more distant than I wanted to. But I love you, Paul. Will you spend the night with me?”

“Tara? You mean...?” I couldn’t even go on. I was kissing her and she was nodding.

“Yes. Make love to me.”

“What about ... Will we be able to work together?”

“We’ll have to see how that goes. I’m not anticipating doing more performances, but we might be able to do some work in the gym.”

“You’re not? Why?”

“As wonderful as everything we did today was, we still wouldn’t have made the cut in a competition. There aren’t a lot of places where we could do exhibitions. I mean, even the international federation, FIG, wouldn’t approve us doing another exhibition here. We might get one or two regional exhibitions, but we’ve had our moment of glory. I showed what was possible with determination and a loving partner. Now, I want to enjoy and appreciate the other things life has to offer. Like being lovers.”