"I don't know what I would do without you," I said, clutching the phone.
"Yeah, I'm pretty amazing." She was quiet for a moment. "Senior year is a joke. I hardly have to do anything. I wish I could be there with you. Going through something like this is hard, even when you have someone to talk to about it. Sometimes just having someone there makes a difference. Have you considered therapy? I was doing it a few times a week. Now I'm down to one day a week."
My forehead creased. I hadn’t known she was talking to someone.
"And
it helps?"
"At first I hated it because I had to relive every painful memory over and over. I've learned a lot, and it's helping me cope and move on. It wouldn't be a bad thing for you to consider."
I nodded. "I could probably use it after everything that's happened. Then again, it's not like I can tell a therapist about Kova, and he's a large part of this. Wouldn't the doctor need to notify someone?"
Avery mused over my question. "Well, not necessarily since you are an adult now. But then, people talk…" Her voice trailed off. "Scratch that. You can always call me and vent anytime you need to, you know that."
"Don't text me anything about this in case my dad really is checking my messages, not until I get that phone."
"Noted."
"Practice is going to suck."
"What are you going to do when you see Kova?"
"Try not to cry?" I joked sadly. "I don't know. Obviously, nothing because people will be there, but what if my dad really does have someone watching me? The last thing I want is to provoke him into pressing rape charges. Assault is enough."
"He can't press charges for rape."
I frowned. "What are you talking about?"
"We went over this when you first started training there, remember? The age of consent in Georgia is sixteen."
"But I was still a minor. I just turned eighteen. It happened before I was considered legal."
Avery let out a huff. "Doesn't matter," she said, her voice straining. "Sixteen is the age of consent. You could fuck an eighty-year-old the moment you turn sixteen and the law can't say anything. You're legal. That's it. Your dad can't do anything about it. He can press assault charges for himself, but that's about it."
I stared across the room in surprise. Her words sliced me open and woke me up. A thin ribbon of hope blew through me.
"I can't believe I didn't know this," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. It was a startling revelation.
"You did know it, you just forgot. Honestly, bestie, and this is me speaking from the heart, I think the only thing you really need to do is focus on gymnastics. You're down to the wire, so everything else can wait. Don't lose that focus you've carried with you the last ten years of your life." Avery’s voice rose in intensity. "It's inspiring. I was looking forward to watching you go all the way so I can say, 'That’s my best friend,' when you're doing flips and shit at the Olympics. Plus, I was hoping to find my future husband there too."
I tried to smile, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it.
"It's really hard, Ave," I said. "I'm stuck between a rock and a hard place." I paused as reality stared me in the face. "I have no leverage."
She didn't respond. Shifting onto my side, I winced at the shooting ache in my elbow. I tried to move back to my original position and clenched my eyes shut. I drew in a long breath and counted to five, praying the throbbing would dissipate soon. Even the simplest movement caused a widespread shot of pain to vibrate through my arm. I exhaled, wondering how this was all going to work out.
I glanced at the clock, it was past midnight. My eyes were heavy with fatigue and puffy from crying earlier.
"I would say allow yourself time to grieve, but I think considering what’s on your plate right now, that's going to have to wait. It's time to saddle the horse and mount that beast. You got this. Shelve your emotions and feelings, turn on autopilot, and do what you were born to do."
I moved the blanket aside and lifted my shirt. I needed to grieve the miscarriage, but I’d effectively avoided thinking about it since I got home. I eyed my stomach. It didn't look much different, not that it had before. But it was.
I wondered if I'd regret this loss for the rest of my life.
I bit my lip. Avery was right. So right. I needed to grab the reins and hold on, I just didn't know if I had the strength to guide the horse with one hand.
"I feel like I don't know how."