Chapter 6: Learning Tara

I HELD MY BREATH all day the Saturday before Christmas. Figuratively. I know, I know. I’d never taken a girl home to have dinner with my family. It wasn’t like I was worried about any of them. Well, Mikey, a little. But the whole thought that I was bringing my girlfriend home for a holiday meal was just too intense to comprehend.

I didn’t have a toddler class that morning. We were all but closed for the holidays. Only those of us seriously working toward a program or competition showed up at the gym. Unfortunately, that included Madison. It had been two weeks since I agreed to spend some time working with her. Coach Daniels, who worked with Madison, showed up as well and started in on us as soon as we set foot on the floor.

We started with some synchronous tumbles and flips, just to see if we were at the same level. No problem there. I thought I could do any move on the mat Madison could do and probably a few more. Which is what Coach Daniels tested next. We started with a couple of throws—something I wasn’t doing with Tara for obvious reasons. Lifts, though, were both easier and informative. The big difference between lifting Madison and lifting Tara was that Tara couldn’t help by jumping more than a little bounce on the sprung floor. Our lifts were all static. Madison could practically jump to my shoulders. She was more athletic than her sister Penny and was unafraid to stand on my hands, even on one foot. Her coach had me work a few times on a pose called a table—lowering myself to the mat, where I was supported on one hand while I held Madison over my head with the other. That was definitely more difficult than anything I’d done with either Tara or Penny, but we managed okay.

“We need to work every morning,” Coach Daniels said. “We’ll start at eight, so be warmed up before that.”

“I can’t do that,” I said.

“What?” the coach snapped.

“I already have my regular partner I’m working with and we’ll be spending most of our time on our routines,” I explained. “Didn’t Madison explain that I can only work with her occasionally?”

“There is no such thing as an occasional partner in mixed pairs. This requires dedication.”

“I’m sorry. I thought that was understood. I am dedicated to my partner, Tara. I can’t be dedicated to both,” I said.

“Not dedicating yourself to this means we can’t compete at the Winter Cup in Louisville and we won’t have a bid for the National Team in June,” the coach said.

“I’m not offering to even attempt to qualify for Nationals with Madison,” I said. “Tara and I are performing in Louisville to get approval for our exhibition at Nationals.”

“Well, that’s just fine. You can’t possibly need as much time to prepare for that. I’ve seen your routine. It’s basic. You could prepare that in an hour a day and have plenty of time to work with Madison. It would do you much better to actually be in a competition than doing an exhibition.”

Coach Daniels had no intention of taking no for an answer. I thought I was done with bullies. Apparently not. Madison had a smile on her face as though she’d already won. A single glance over to where Tara was working with her physical therapist, though, and I knew exactly where I was going.

“I’m sorry you’ve wasted your time this morning,” I said. “I need to go work with my partner now. Good luck, Madison.”

I left the mat and an animated conversation between Madison and her coach.

“You know, she might be right,” Tara said when I told her and Jennifer what had gone on in the session. “We could probably do everything we’re doing now in an hour a day instead of three. If you really want to compete with her, I’d be willing to make the adjustment,” Tara said.

I was horrified.

“No! I mean, we’re making progress. I’m finding out more about what you can do every time we practice. I need to gain confidence that I won’t hurt you and we could do all kinds of things,” I said enthusiastically.

“Don’t take that thought too far,” Tara laughed. “What do you think, Jennifer?”

“I think that if Paul really wants to learn what you can do, he should join our PT sessions. We could let him gradually take over some of your exercises and training,” Jennifer said.

“Could I do that?” I asked.

“I couldn’t turn you into a physical therapist,” Jennifer laughed. “I had to get a doctorate. There’s no way around that.”

“I didn’t know you’re a doctor!” I said. “I’m going to graduate from high school with the bare minimum requirements. It would take forever for me to learn everything to be a doctor!”

“Maybe, though from what I’ve seen, you’re smart enough. Have you considered becoming a personal trainer or massage therapist? You might not be ready to coach senior elite gymnasts, but I’ve seen you with the toddlers. You could coach the lower levels and kids who are just getting started.”

“I could talk to Coach Dawson about expanding that role,” I said. Knowing that I wasn’t in line for a shot at this year’s Olympic Games in Paris, made training for the next Olympics seem like a long time from now. I was going to need to earn some money eventually.

“Okay. You can start by helping me massage Tara’s legs. Tara, go to the massage room and get ready. Leave your leotard on. Paul, just follow what I do and I’ll teach you what you need to know,” Jennifer said.

Tara went into the massage room and a few minutes later, Jennifer knocked. I heard Tara say, “Okay.” We went into the room where Tara was lying face-up on the table.

“Um ... Is this okay, Tara? I mean for me to massage your legs.”

“Hey! Maybe you’ll awaken more feeling in them. Have at it. Massage some life into these dead sticks.”

“Don’t let her fool you,” Jennifer said. “She does have life and feeling in her legs. It’s reduced, but still there.”

“If I’d known you were going to invite him to massage my legs, I’d have shaved this morning,” Tara laughed. She was blushing a little. I think I was, too.

She was wearing her usual workout leotard, so she was completely decent. It wasn’t the first time I’d touched Tara’s legs, obviously. I lifted her, swung her, held her, and propelled her. But it was the first time I’d touched her legs with the intent of just touching them, and rubbing them, and feeling the muscles in them, and feeling how soft and smooth they were. I had to go inside myself to where I went when I was working with the cheerleaders. I had to not think about her as a sexual being.

I followed Jennifer’s instructions and copied her movement. It was funny that I could almost see in my mind how all the muscles were connected and where the damage was. Once I got to that point, it was a lot easier to focus on the intent of the massage instead of the feeling of her body.

We worked on her legs for half an hour and then had her roll over onto her stomach so we could work on the backs of her legs, her butt, and lower back. Of course, we worked outside her leotard, but it was cut rather high and I found that I was not only squeezing her butt, but actively working on it to find the connections Jennifer was pointing out.

So, maybe I could control my reactions while I was working on her, but somehow, I knew a very active fantasy was waiting for me to get to bed that night.

Jennifer was our coach as well as Tara’s therapist, but we’d had another woman working on our choreography. After the therapy session, we warmed up and then went to work on our routine. There were a couple of figures we could get into, but the transition wasn’t smooth.

For example, if I supported the small of her back, Tara could bend over backwards and put her hands on the floor. Bent double backwards! We’d worked on having me lift her in that position and it was fine. But the classic figure would have her with her hands on mine and bent in that pose horizontally instead of vertically. Getting from one pose to the other was just impossible.

“Let’s try your handstand, Tara,” Jennifer said. “Paul, on your back, hands up. I understand you’ve done this with your cheerleaders standing on your hands. This will be similar, but Tara will be standing on her hands.”

“Cool,” I said.

I lay down and Tara took her position. It took us a few tries before we got the right height for my hands to be so Tara could use her phenomenal upper body strength to pull herself up. She wasn’t quite able to get her legs up, but standing on her hands in a folded position was still good.

“Okay, switch to one hand,” Jennifer commanded.

I wasn’t sure of what she was going for until I felt Tara let go of my left hand and move both her hands onto my right hand. This was really cool. I’d held Penny once with both her feet in my right hand, but Tara was doing a handstand on my hand.

“Paul, keep your arm vertical and stable as you elevate your body into a table with your left hand.”

I’d seen this figure in videos and had just done the table with Madison. I knew the objective was that the line from the bottom hand of the base to the tip of the top’s—in the videos it was a foot. With Tara it was her butt—should be perfectly straight and vertical. I elevated myself so that I created a right triangle with the mat, my body, and my arm. Above me, Tara stayed steady on my extended right hand. We held it until I felt Tara start to tremble. Jennifer stepped right in and caught her as she dismounted.

What a rush!

After our workout, we stretched and I rubbed Tara’s shoulders and arms. They’d been worked even harder than usual. We each headed for the locker rooms and showers to get ready to go to my house for dinner with the family.

I helped Tara to the door of the house. After asking if I minded carrying her at times, she decided to leave the wheelchair in the car and just use her crutches. I didn’t mind carrying her, anytime. I’d kept the walk shoveled and clear of ice, so I suppose I didn’t really need to carry her to the door, but I did.

Let me emphasize that Tara had some use of her legs and she was nineteen years old. She was beautiful and she sure showed it on this day. She wore a skirt that came to mid-thigh, knee-high black boots, and a form-fitting red sweater. She was wearing a little more makeup than usual, but nothing like the stage makeup girls wear when performing. In short, she was gorgeous.

I set her down inside and took her coat before my sister practically knocked us over, rushing to hug us.

“I’m home!” she yelled as she grabbed me. I kept one arm around Tara to stabilize her. “Oh, I just knew you’d be beautiful! Hi, Tara. I’m Mikey.”

“I knew you’d have more energy than all of Paul’s five-year-old tumbling class!” Tara laughed. “It’s nice to meet you, Mikey.”

“Michelle, at least let them come into the house,” Dad said from the living room. “We don’t need to overwhelm them. Let the floods rise slowly.”

“Come on in,” Mikey said contritely. “Mom’s in the kitchen. But I was the only one who hadn’t met you.”

“Can I help with anything?” Tara asked as we followed Mikey.