Off Balance: A Memoir Page 20
“Dominique, open the door!” Tata demanded in Romanian as he pounded loudly on the door. “Open the door right now!”
“No,” I said, literally shaking in my boots, hoping that that flimsy door could hold Tata back. Mama was afraid, too, but was worried what the neighbors would think of our ordeal. The pounding on the door continued. “Don’t you dare let him in,” I kept telling Mama before I finally picked up the phone and dialed 911. It was the first time I’d ever actually called the police, but I was fed up with feeling terrorized by my own father. I wasn’t going to wait until Tata broke down the door or got into a fight with neighbors coming out of their apartments. He continued pounding on the door and swearing at me, saying what a bad person I was.
Two male officers responded to my call. They made sure we were okay, then took Tata to the airport, so he could fly home to Houston. Tata was a great talker, and even though he had just tormented our entire apartment building with his ranting and banging on the door and walls, he managed to convince the officers to take him to the airport when any bystander would think he was headed straight to the local jail.
The quiet in the apartment lasted only a short while, as Tata started calling Mama’s cell phone nonstop from the airport. My jaw dropped when Mama answered the phone to talk to him, so I quickly grabbed it from her and hung up on him. It was pointless, since she answered immediately when he called back again. A few minutes later, Mama was grabbing her keys to go pick up Tata from the airport like he’d asked. Apparently, Tata was sitting with his head drooped downward on an outside bench when Mama pulled up. His tail between his legs, he knew he was in the wrong. I was still too angry and didn’t want to see him, so I left the apartment before they returned. He never apologized to any of us, and life carried on like nothing had ever happened.
This was the kind of craziness that confused me while I was growing up. We had finally come to a place without rage and violence, only to invite it right back in. I knew it was a cycle I didn’t want to continue when I had my own family one day.
Sadly, 1999 came and went with a lot of pain and angst, but not a lot of gymnastics. For the first time in my life, I didn’t compete in a single competition the entire year. I had struggled with several new lows that year and I had started to question if I’d ever be able to compete again. I felt defeated. Luckily, my agent, Janey, one of the few people who hadn’t given up on me, recognized that deep down I wasn’t ready to retire, and she stayed positive, looking for new opportunities.
Chapter 11
JENNIFER: FLASH FORWARD
It had only been a few months since the mind-blowing revelation that I had another sister. And even though I hadn’t met Jen in person yet, I felt like I was rapidly growing closer to her. We shared a tireless series of stories over the phone and provided midday updates through text and sometimes email. Despite the fact that I had just given birth to my first child and was consumed with the joy and daily discoveries that come with that, I still couldn’t get enough news from Jen. I felt fortunate to have been able to support her as she began her journey into aerial acrobatics, which she’d later turn into a promising career.
It was during one of our early phone conversations that Jen mentioned an interest in getting back into gymnastics herself. She was living in Orlando and working at Disney World as an operations cast member for the park’s parades and shows. She loved watching the stage shows with acrobatics and aerial work, and she felt with her strength and agility, she could perform those routines if given the chance. She had been such a powerhouse in tumbling and gymnastics when she was younger, so I thought it was a great idea for her to try it. She’d already proven to be a champion tumbler—despite having no legs—so why couldn’t she be an acrobat?
I was impressed to see how quickly Jen moved to make this dream a reality. One minute she was telling me she “just knew” she could do what these acrobats were doing, and by the next time we spoke, she was already lining up a professional partner. One of her Disney managers had given her the name of an aerial gymnast, and Jen was arranging to meet with him. I was so impressed by her focus and determination. Boy, when she wanted to get something done, look out.
I looked forward to Jen’s updates about her training sessions with her new partner, Nate. I could tell from the pure joy and excitement in her voice that she’d found a new challenge—one she absolutely loved. Her enthusiasm was contagious, and I even got excited hearing about her strenuous workouts and how they’d make her so sore she could barely lift her wheelchair into her car afterward. She hadn’t worked out hard for the past four years, but she was doing all the right things to get back into shape. I remember when she talked about being a bit nervous to train on “silks” since many of the tricks required the use of legs for support, but a week later when we spoke, she reported that she was already doing “roll-ups” on the silks, which typically only male acrobats are strong enough to do. I could barely keep up with her progress because she was moving ahead so quickly. It was very rewarding and inspiring to follow her path as she achieved a succession of goals. My “new” sister was growing into a real superhero to me. I couldn’t wait to meet her in person, yet I was still a little nervous. I didn’t want to rush into a meeting too fast and ruin what we had built so far.
Jen and Nate shared gym space with soccer and volleyball players, so they would warm up and practice stunts on the trampoline while they were waiting for their floor time. These trampoline “stunts” soon turned into a full-length act that got the attention of other gym patrons and promoters. Before they knew it, they booked their first gig, center stage at the Amway Arena in Orlando with more than five thousand people in the audience. I remember Jen was over the moon describing how they had “knocked the performance out of the park.”
I liked it when Jen bounced ideas off of me and asked for my input or feedback on training and performing. I was desperate to do something more for her, my sister. I tried to give Jen every bit of advice that I thought could possibly be helpful with her career. I’d been burned too many times by people I thought I could trust, who’d claim they wanted to be my friend or help me, when they really just wanted to use me for their own gain all along. I didn’t want Jen making the same mistakes I’d made over the years. I already felt that we were close enough to talk about those things honestly.
Christina, Jen, and I began to brainstorm about where and when the three of us should meet in person. I think we all knew that we’d maximized our “getting to know each other” period over the telephone and it was time to take the next step. My sisters took mercy on me as a new mom and agreed that it would be easiest if the two of them came to my home in Cleveland.
I finally met Jen in May 2008. As she wheeled herself through the elevator doors at the airport, she was exactly what I’d pictured—beautiful, spirited, confident, and independent. She’d traveled from Florida to Ohio and arrived midday, an hour and a half before Christina’s flight from Texas. I hugged her tightly, then handed her the rose I bought on the way to the airport. I wasn’t sure if it was what one gives a long-lost sister, but she seemed to like it.
“This is your auntie Jen,” I said to Carmen, who was watching us from her stroller. Jen smiled from ear to ear as she cooed with Carmen.
It was surreal, yet stingingly real. Having her in front of me, I could see she was a Moceanu through and through. I’d already seen lots of her photos, but it was much more obvious in person. She reminded me so much of Christina and myself—not only the striking physical similarities, but the way she talked and laughed, even the way she moved her hands when she was describing things. I just kept staring at her. We had a chance to talk and get comfortable in each other’s presence as we ate and waited for Christina.
Once Christina’s flight arrived, I became even more emotional. It seemed like our circle was complete, and I tried my best to hold back tears as the three of us hugged. Jen and Christina seemed to be keeping it together, and I didn’t want my crying to distract them from thei
r own first moments together. Back at my house, we sat in the living room for hours, talking about our childhoods, sharing photos, and trying to fill in the gaps. I asked her to retell stories she’d already shared on the phone, just to make sure I didn’t miss any details.
“I just can’t believe we’re all really here together, and I’m finally meeting you and Christina in person!” Jen repeated a few times that first night, almost in disbelief. She had dreamed of us coming together for so many years, I think it was a bit overwhelming that it was actually happening at last.
We avoided talking about Mama and Tata at first, but we all knew we’d have to discuss them at some point. It was like the elephant in the room that everyone pretends doesn’t exist. Tata and Mama were what bound the three of us together. They were our parents, at least sort of. How do you reconcile one sister being put up for adoption? By that time, we all understood the circumstances surrounding Jen’s adoption, and it was pretty clear that Jen’s childhood was a lot more stable and happier than mine and Christina’s had been, but it still had to be addressed. I took a deep breath and told Jen that Tata and Mama had been asking a lot about her and that they were supportive that we were building a relationship. I told Jen that Tata had become quite ill recently, but that he and Mama hoped they would be able to meet Jen one day, too, even though they were nervous about it. Jen listened to my words. She seemed so gathered and mature, I had to remind myself she was only twenty years old. I knew she had prepared for this moment—meeting her biological family—for a long time, and I’d hoped she was getting the answers she needed. I looked forward to Jen ultimately meeting Tata and Mama because I thought it might give her more closure about her birth and how she ended up with her family, the Brickers.
Those few days together were magical. We were able to open up and share our feelings, cry, laugh, and bond in new ways, and the fact that we did all this within the walls of my home made it even more special for me. As we hugged good-bye, we all promised to get together again sooner than later. I had no worries; I knew we’d make it happen.
Jen and Nate’s first performance at Amway Arena in Orlando gave them immediate media attention. They started to land trampoline and silk performances, first in Florida, then all around the world, including the modern dance arena with the world-renowned Heidi Latsky. It all happened very quickly and in 2009, Jen was invited to join the biggest tour in the pop world at the time, the Britney Spears tour. Nate had been hired onto the tour and once he showed the producers video of Jen performing, they invited her to become part of the cast. What performer doesn’t dream about doing their thing alongside a world-famous pop icon? Heck, I would’ve loved to have gone on tour with Britney Spears myself! And to think that Jen had only been involved in aerial gymnastics for one year at that point was mind-boggling. I remember telling her how proud I was and how she deserved it all as she set off for the second leg of the US and Australian tour.
I was fortunate to see Jen and Nate perform when the tour stopped in Columbus, Ohio. Jen and Nate’s routine on the trampoline electrified the arena and left fans screaming for an encore. I had chills up and down my arms. It was a richly satisfying, emotional experience for me to see Jen perform on this grand stage.
In the short time I’d known Jen, I’d watched her break boundaries and do things most people with all their limbs only dream about. I looked forward to seeing what other tricks she had up her sleeve as she ventured out to Los Angeles to pursue her solo career. One thing I’d learned so far was that when Jennifer Bricker sets her mind to something, you’d better believe it will be happening.
Chapter 12
ENTER MIKE CANALES
Who would have thought that the boy I bumped into in the hospitality room at the 1994 US Nationals would end up being the man I’d marry? I was only twelve years old and he was sixteen at the time, so it was merely the start of what would evolve into a long yet persistent love story.
I had just won my first All-Around title at the Junior Nationals in Nashville, Tennessee, and my coaches Alexander Alexandrov and Jackie McCarter and I were over the moon with the victory. The following day during the men’s competition, I made my way to the hospitality room, a private place where gymnasts can rest or grab something to eat between events. I was done competing and my next objective was to get some food in my stomach. I’d barely eaten that past week preparing for the meet. I was so focused on grabbing snacks that, at first, I didn’t notice my future husband pacing around the room. Michael Brian Canales stood about 5' 5" with a thin, lean physique—the typical build of a male gymnast in the 1990s.
“How ya doing?” I asked, surprising myself by striking up a conversation so easily.
“I’m okay,” he replied quietly and without much enthusiasm. I could see that he was preoccupied and figured he had his mind on the men’s competition, which was still going on in the main gym.
“Well, hang in there!” I said, looking him straight in the eye, giving him my best “you’ll be all right” look of supportive confidence. I spoke with conviction, like I was a coach or some kind of expert. I could see the wheels in Mike’s brain turning as he looked down at me, wondering who was this four-foot pipsqueak giving him a pep talk. I looked more like someone’s kid sister than a fellow gymnast. He looked at me for another few seconds and then smiled warmly before turning toward the door.
Mike and I still laugh about that first meeting, both amazed at my gumption considering how sheltered and timid I was at the time. There I was, trying to counsel and advise a boy four years my senior. Turned out that Mike had gone into the hospitality room that day to clear his head. He was competing against some of his longtime gymnastics idols for the first time at Nationals that day and was feeling a little overwhelmed. He had no idea who that supportive little kid was, but I ended up providing him with a bit of perspective … and a smile. Apparently, someone pointed me out to Mike later as the winner of the women’s All-Around, which we also laugh about now—“So that kid really did know a thing or two about gymnastics.”
Mike and I eventually had a proper introduction and became friendly as we crossed paths at a number of gymnastics meets and exhibitions over the next four years. The visits were intermittent and never long enough. We’d get a chance to talk and catch up on gymnastics and then we’d have to say good-bye. He was so down to earth, kind, and respectful to everyone, and I always looked forward to seeing him. His generous spirit and genuine concern for others was quite an inspiration. Due to training and travel schedules, it’s difficult for most Elite gymnasts to keep in touch with one another, and it was especially challenging for me as I had no downtime leading up to the Olympics. Also, this time predated Twitter, Facebook, and teenagers toting cell phones and laptops in their backpacks, so staying in touch was a lot more challenging. I did see Mike after the Olympics when our Magnificent Seven tour stopped in his hometown of Columbus, Ohio. He was the local guest gymnast who performed with us that evening and I still have a photo of the two of us that was taken after the show. In that photo, you can see that Mike is wearing an old US Nationals T-shirt—a red shirt with my picture on it.
I never was able to spend long periods of time with Mike, but each time we saw each other, we just picked up where we left off. Quick conversations in passing were really all there was time for, but I always enjoyed seeing him, however briefly. It was almost as if destiny kept bringing us back together, but I was still young and it would be some time yet before I developed feelings for him that went beyond friendship.
We reconnected at the US National Championships in 1998. I was still clueless about romance at that time and, to me, he was a special friend whom I wanted as my pen pal. I remember sitting at my desk when I returned from Nationals and writing Mike a short note on a smiley face notepad a fan had gifted me. Years later, Mike surprised me by pulling that same smiley notecard out of a box of belongings. He had guarded that first piece of mail alongside his other treasured things for years, and that touched me to no end.
Mike was a sight for sore eyes—and these eyes certainly saw him in a new light this time around. I took in his bronzed skin and fit, muscular body under his white T-shirt as I got up to give him and Raj hugs. When I got closer, I saw that Mike had silver circular piercings in his ears and a silver stud piercing in his labret—the area just below his lower lip. I thought it was an unusual place for a piercing, but somehow he pulled it off and it actually looked good on him. For the first time, I felt drawn to Mike in a romantic sense and I remember feeling a bit self-conscious standing there in my burgundy bikini, feeling less fit than I had been before. Mike’s warm smile and friendly way was such a ray of sunshine and I just couldn’t take my eyes off of him. Perhaps I was finally in the right place and right time to notice him in a different way. We couldn’t talk long as they were on their way to meet up with Raj’s gymnastics team from Ohio State University. Mike had already graduated from Ohio State and was coaching his former team as they trained for the US Nationals later that summer.
I could hardly wait to see Mike later that night at the cabin house, where the gymnasts and some staff would hang out. As we sat outside in the fresh air, it was the first time I was able to have a long, in-person, uninterrupted conversation with Mike. We’d known each other for years and had written back and forth now and again, but we’d never had a decent chunk of time to talk face to face. I was intrigued by Mike—here was this stud gymnast who was intellectual and educated with well-thought-out opinions and ideas on so many things, yet he was humble, sincere, and easy to be around. The hours flew by as we talked and laughed. I felt a new and stronger connection with Mike that evening, and there was no doubt in my mind that he was special.