by Frances Guadiano
I was Still a Child
There were pink roses
for my sweet sixteen.
I was still a child then,
Something you forgot.
You took a bud and tore
The petals all away.
I gave it to you gladly,
Believing you knew best.
I was still a child then.
Something you forgot.
Pruning and deadheading,
You shaped me to your needs.
At first, I bloomed,
Winning was what mattered.
I was still a child then.
Something you forgot.
People saw perfection,
They were all impressed.
When I fell to earth,
I thought you’d lift me up.
I was still a child then.
Something you forgot.
You left me in the dirt,
Mixing with manure.
Buried deep I withered,
Till time taught me how to grow -
Wild and unruly.
I have thorns now.
Someone said you died today.
Part of me has cried.
I never got to tell you –
I was just a child then,
Something you forgot.
First Kiss
Sherri was the best gymnast at the club so she wasn’t surprised when she was asked to accompany her coach to the fundraiser. Ron said he would pick her up at 7.00. Good thing it was a Saturday night since there was no training on Sunday morning – the only day of the week there wasn’t training. She was wearing the dress that she wore to most award banquets after competitions. Ron had seen it loads of times before but that didn’t matter. He was her coach, not her boyfriend. Not that she had a boyfriend, there wasn’t time for that sort of thing in her life.
Ron had spotted Sherri when she first transferred to his club three years ago. She wasn’t on the elite team then, but he’d watched her warming up and complimented her on her flexibility. That was one of her strong points, that and her balance. He kept his eye on her. At regionals, she’d performed a particularly solid beam routine, and he’d clapped her on the back, telling her she was a good girl. She was thrilled that he had noticed. After a respectable performance at Nationals, Ron said he was happy to have her in his training group. That was two years ago. Since then, he’d capitalized on her strengths and worked her nearly to death to improve her skill level. Her dreams were coming true. She’d even been tipped as an Olympic hopeful. With Ron’s help, she’d gone from being an average gymnast to being a star.
When Ron tooted the horn, Sherri picked up her phone and headed out the door, calling a farewell to her mom and sister who were watching TV in the lounge. She doubted they heard her. She slipped into the front seat beside her coach and reached over to change the radio station as she would in her mother’s car. He slapped at her hand.
“My car, my station.”
Her hand leapt back into her lap, where it belonged.
Leaning back against the seat, Sherri stretched out her legs, admiring her new shoes. She wasn’t supposed to wear heels, it was too easy to damage an ankle but she had defied the rules and gotten sandals with a small heel. They weren’t sexy - Sherri was so small she had to buy her shoes in the children’s section but at least they weren’t trainers.
“There are drinks first and then the meal. Then speeches. It’s going to be a boring evening I’m afraid.”
“Is that why Bella isn’t coming?” Bella was his wife.
“We couldn’t get a babysitter. Besides, there will be people there that will want to take selfies with you and maybe get your autograph.”
Sherri felt a flush of pleasure rise up in her cheeks but she didn’t say anything.
“You okay with that?”
“Sure. I’ve done it at meets before.”
“With kids. These are grown-ups.”
Sherri shrugged, “You’ll be there.”
He reached over and gave her knee a squeeze. “That’s right.”
Ron was always there for her. The time she fell and sprained her ankle, it had been him that carried her to the first aid room and put ice on it, kneeling beside her and telling her she could cry if she wanted to. She hadn’t.
He’d been there at the competition when she’d packed the wrong leotard and found it didn’t fit. He’d run out into the hall and bought her a new one. She’d worn it to take first place.
Ron had bundled her into a coat when they were competing in New York, and she wanted to go out and buy a souvenir. “It’s cold out there, young lady. We can’t have you getting sick.” He’d walked her to a nearby shop and helped her pick out a t-shirt for her sister.
Once, he’d even let her leave practice early when she had a headache.
Ron brought her a soda water with lemon. She noticed he was drinking beer. They found their seats and let the fans come to Sherri. She smiled and agreed to their photos. Sometimes they wanted her coach in the photo too. He put his arm around Sherri and together they smiled at the camera. When people asked for her autograph, it was always for their daughter, who loved gymnastics. Sherri would write the girl’s name and then ‘keep working hard’ or ‘hang in there’ and then her own name. Some of the mums would look at what she had written and give her a quizzical look. She wasn’t sure why.
The banquet was uncomfortable for Sherri as she wasn’t used to eating this late, and she didn’t allow herself to eat rich food. She managed the salad but just picked at the main course. She took one spoonful of the desert. The cheesecake was heavenly, but she couldn’t eat the whole piece. Not with Ron watching her and it would make her feel sick anyway. She didn’t want to have to stick her finger down her throat tonight.
The speeches did go on forever. Sherri found herself nodding off. She was used to early nights, and she was not accustomed to sitting still for extended periods of time. She felt a hand rest on her shoulder and the warmth of breath in her ear.
“Come on Sher. Let’s go for a walk in the fresh air.”
Coming to, she focussed her eyes on Ron’s face, close to hers.
“Up you go,” he had her arm and was lifting her from the chair. She stood up and followed close behind him.
Out in the night air, a breeze swept across her face and caused her hair to fly about her. In the gym, her hair was secured in a tight ponytail and pinioned in place but tonight she could enjoy the feel of it free. Ron reached out and grasped a hank of her hair, smoothing it behind her ear. She did not react to the intimate touch. He had touched nearly every part of her body at one point or another during training. It was necessary for a coach to straighten a leg, shift a hip or even grab a torso that had gone astray mid-flight. His touch kept her safe.
His hand seemed to have got tangled in her hair as he had not let go. Sherri jerked her head to loosen him but instead his fingers dug in deeper till he was cupping the back of her head, pulling it towards him. She looked up, trying to read his face in the dim light but he was too close, leaning closer until his lips were on hers, sloppy and wet with the taste of beer.
Frozen, Sherri let Ron continue. She felt his other hand clamp onto her backside and press her against him. His tongue began to explore her mouth while the stiff presence in his trousers thrust against her abdomen. It was only when the hand came up and started squeezing her almost non-existent breasts that she turned her face away, hoping that at least the kissing would stop. He was her coach. He knew what was best for her but she couldn’t understand why he was doing this. She hoped he would stop soon. She didn’t know how to say “no.”