Dirty Bad Blood, Part I of II

“You have actually got to be kidding me, no fucking way. Nope. No.”

“Listen, Stacia. I don’t have a choice in the matter! WADA cleared her and the IOC looks like they’re going to approve her appeal -”

“No! Why the fuck would I want to be on a team with my mortal enemy slash bitch who’s been trying to single-white-female me since the get! No!”

“I told you, I don’t -“

“She dosed me, Fitz! What the fuck are we supposed to do when she’s working and living with us? How is this fair to me?! I can’t -”

I lost it. Well, my version of ‘lost it’. I got silent and sat down on the floor exactly where I stood, crossing my ankles and slowly lowering myself into a legs-folded position. Looking straight ahead at nothing in particular, moments of the last year played across my psyche like some satirical montage from a coming-of-age movie about gymnasts vying for a spot on the Olympic team.

There was that moment at Worlds when I became the first person to pull off The Biles since Simone herself.

That floor routine at Trials that put me an entire 3 points ahead of my closest competitor.

I won Worlds in floor, vault and beam that year. And the Trials, well, I proved to the world I’d be one to watch at the next Olympic Games. And then it all fell apart. It was a whirlwind of traditional Greek tragedy almost the minute I stepped off the podium at the medal ceremony. In a span of a week I lost my records, my trophies, medals, status, eligibility, and reputation all at once. And it was all. because. of her.

“Stacia!”

I jerked out of my montage, shook my head and looked up at Fitz - 

“I can’t do it, dude. I don’t know how I’m supposed to move on and get back to my best before The Games if I’m 24/7 wondering if Eli is spiking my water bottles again or, I don’t know - adding HGH and testosterone to the Icy Hot! Who let this happen?”

“It’s part of the new initiative to give athletes a chance for recompense in certain cases, like drugs or dope or apparently drugging your rivals. I don’t know, man, this is wild to me, too. I’m not happy about it, either. But like I said, there’s nothing I can do.

I looked up at Fitz - always my mentor, always my advocate, always my friend. A 4-time Olympic medalist herself, I knew she was telling me the truth - she knew better than most what a mess WADA was. She’s the only reason my name was finally cleared after I was accused of doping and tested positive for, like, 5 different performance-enhancing drugs out of nowhere last year. If she says there’s nothing she can do, then… well, I’m fucked, basically. 

“Okay,” I sighed out. “What are we gonna do?”

“Well, thankfully,” said Fitz, “they only approved her return provisionally, and with several conditions. One of them is that she never be in the gym at the same time as you or the other teammates. Another is that each girl will get extra locks and a designated locker. The locker room will have hidden audio recording at all times. And then we’re also allowed to search her and her personal belongings any time we want.”

“That all sounds nice, but it doesn’t make me feel better.”

“Look. You won’t even know she’s here. I promise - the first time you’ll even have to see her face or hear her voice is on the plane to the Olympic Village.”

She walked to me and bent down so we were eye to eye, her hands one each on my knees, and said - 

“I promise. You’ve overcome so much this year, just to regain something you already earned. We’ll get through this, too.” She squeezed my knees gently - “And then we’ll kick the shit out of every other country in the world at The Games!” And she tapped my knees and promptly stood up, offering me her hand to stand up as well. I took it.

—-----------------------------------------------

In Fitz’ defense, I really didn’t have to see that absolute evil trashfire of a person named Eli until we got on the plane 4 months later. Where she proved pretty much immediately that nothing had changed and she had no regrets about fucking my life up so hard and nearly derailing a career I had pursued since before I had any adult teeth.

I remember sitting in the plane waiting for the rest of the team to finish boarding, looking at my phone scrolling weather forecasts at our destination. And I felt her a half a second before I saw her. Some kind of chill ran through me and I looked up to see her standing in the dead middle of the aisle with her bag in hand, just staring at me.

Just. staring. 

I was a deer in headlights, staring straight back, not sure how to stop whatever was happening right now. After a few seconds, I could have sworn I saw her face twinge into the slightest smirk. An “Um, hello?!” from another teammate behind her mercifully ended that exchange. I promptly put my headphones in and eyemask on and didn’t remove them for the duration of the flight. Did it help? No, not really. 

—-----------------------------------------------

“You’re actually joking. Am I having deja vu? Am I insane? No fucking way are we sharing a flat like why can’t she stay with someone else? Or like, in a psych ward or something?”

A random suit from the IOC stood directly behind Fitz like a kidnapper forcing a statement at gunpoint as Fitz tried to explain - 

“Your flat is the only one with an extra bed in the spare room. Talia already said she’d be fine bunking with her and said you could keep the en suite so you’d also have a private bathroom and could lock the whole unit any time you’re gone. It’ll be safe, she’s done therapy and - ”

I put a palm up towards Fitz to stop her talking. “Listen, Fitz. I know this isn’t your fault,” I said as I deliberately shot daggers at the suit standing behind her. “But can someone tell me why I can’t just switch with another teammate from a different flat?”

She looked down at the ground and sighed. And when she looked up at me she seemed sorry and worried and tired. “They think,” she grimaced through gritted teeth, “that it’s good imagery for the orgs and The Games and the world to show the rehab and reinstatement program is working. That there’s no bad blood and everything has been forgiven.” Swiveling her head around, this time it was Fitz shooting daggers at the suit. And then the suit said to me,

“You know, even though you’ve been technically cleared of all wrongdoing, you’re still on probationary status. It might be best to go with the flow and focus on beating the competition.”

I lost it. And when I was sat down stared into space, I heard Fitz as if she were a mile away, quietly shooing the suit out of the flat, closing the door and coming to sit down next to me. I started crying - 

“Why the fuck is this happening, like, what did I do? Why is Talia okay with this? She’s not scared? Sleeping in the same room as her? And what makes them think a couple interior locks are gonna stop an unhinged bitch who injects mangoes with steroids? This is a fucking joke! Fitz, I can’t, I - “

“Calm down, Stacia. We’re going to figure this out. I - I - I’ll demand they put cameras in the common space and I’ll require her to be tracked around the village somehow or something…” 

She trailed off. And then so did everything else.

—----------------------------------------

“Listen, Stacia, I don’t know what I can say to make what I did better - I just - I want you to know how sorry I am.” Eli said with a tear in her eye that never did fall. “I had a long inpatient stay and a lot of outpatient sessions to help me realized how, well, insane what happened was, for a lack of better words.”

She seemed nervous, wringing her hands in her lap as she sat on the arm chair across from me and Talia on the sofa. But I’d seen her do some pretty impressive acting before - if you count acting as portraying yourself as a friend when you’re actually completely fucking evil. And then there’s the whole “what happened” of it all. I looked her dead in her eyes - 

“‘What happened’ was insane? How about ‘what you did’ was insane?! You do realize you nearly cost me my career. I did nothing to you except be your friend, and you pretended to be mine, all the while knowing you’d sabotage me the whole time! Who does that?! Do you know how long it took me to eat and drink anything that wasn’t sealed in packages after all of this? Do you have any idea what it was like to become a pariah when I didn’t deserve to be? How the fuck are you gonna come here tryna say sorry when - “

Talia quietly put a hand on my shoulder to stop me spiraling. She turned toward the wayward and very scary girl on the arm chair - 

“Listen, Eli. Don’t cause trouble. Stay away from Stacia. If you need something, ask me. Best believe - we’re all watching you. We are tolerating you. The team’s loyalty is to Stacia. Keep your head down and leave her alone.”

“I understand.” She nodded and kept her eyes down. 

“Good,” said Talia, getting up from the couch. She began to walk towards their bedroom, turning back for just a moment to tell her, “Oh yeah - and I get the bigger bed.”

The first night in the village, I didn’t sleep. I kept thinking every new noise was my lock being picked or someone rifling through the fridge to dose all the energy drinks or something. Mercifully, when I got up in the morning to head to the gym, she had left before me. But I knew the next few weeks were going to be constant face time with her regardless, meanwhile trying to complete some Hunger Games-esque performance of actually liking each other in public. This was supposed to be the best thing that has ever happened to me as an athlete. And it wasn’t. 

—--------------------------------------------------

A week later we were in the locker room prepping for the Opening Ceremony. She was stood 4 girls down from me shoving pins into her hair, spares to-be-used clenched between her teeth. She was staring intently at what she was doing in the mirror, often darting her eyes back to me. When the second unfortunate accidental eye contact was made, I went to grab my hairspray and talc out my bag - ever wondered how gymnasts never get wedgies in those little spandex suits? Industry secrets.

Rifling through my bag, I couldn’t find my talc shaker or my hairspray. I put my head up and asked the room if I could borrow anyone else’s. And when I stood and turned towards a voice that said, “Here - I have extra of both,” it was her. standing there. trying to look trite and seem helpful.

“Hey, Stacia…” she trailed off with a really facetious puppy dog-esque look on her face, talc and hairspray in-hand. Looking in my eyes almost too presently, she continued “I know things are weird between us. Well, I know things are. I know you’ll never… I’m so fucking sorry for what happened last year. The whole situation was unfortunate, and I don’t expect we’ll be friends or anything, but if you could rise above and we could be cordial, that’d be good for everyone.”

I was aghast - truly. Again? For what? And was she apologizing to me or scolding me? Another smirk, a wet eye that never became weighted enough to drip down her face, a complete and utter refusal to take any responsibility… I couldn’t believe this is my life. Unfortunately it was, and she was still talking - 

… and I think you know better than anyone how much pressure we’re all under and how nasty the competition gets. My therapist says my competitiveness is my best and worst trait. I bet it’s yours, too. You know -”

“Hold up. No. Nope. You don’t get to try to relate to me. The pressure? Are you fucking joking? Yeah. I’m so stressed I snapped at Annette yesterday. I was not so stressed that I spent time and money planning and executing an entire doping scheme to take out my biggest competition for The Games! We are not the same!”

“Hey, Stacia - chill.” my flatmate Talia chirped as she quietly rushed over. “There’s no reason to yell at the girl. We’re at work - we’re on the same team here.”

Eli placed the talc and hairspray gently on my bag and retreated. I remember turning to look at Stacia after she said that, fully not understanding my life. And then turning back to see that everpresent, everscary smirk starting at the corners of her mouth. I proceeded to continue getting ready and grabbed the bottle to shake some powder out. It always makes me cough a little bit. I got really lightheaded.

And then I woke up in the clinic.

—-----------------------------------------------------

“What happened?” I asked, holding Fitz’ hand as she leaned over my bed with a concerned look on her face.

“You passed out. Talia said you looked exhausted and Annette told me you’ve been snippy lately. And having to be in the same room and interacting with Eli on top of being at your first Olympics? They think you just got so exhausted, stressed and dehydrated that you collapsed.”

“Can I go back to the gym, please? This is unnecessary.” I started to pull myself upright with my arms and tried not to look as dizzy as I felt while doing so.

“If you feel okay, I’d be down to have you on floor and vault today. Hold off on beam and bars until you’re sure you’re feeling steady.”

Back at the gym, the girls greeted me with hugs and coos and warm words. I felt embarrassed by the attention, which was underlain by being embarrassed that I fainted in the first place. I then began the tedious task of marking routines I really needed to be doing full out to prove to Fitz I was being careful. I somehow made it home, showered and to bed without encountering my unwanted roommate again, and went to sleep hoping I’d wake up feeling refreshed and over it.

(Proceed to Part II)