The Dead Man's Fulfilled Dream

It looked as if the life had been sucked out of Amelia Harp. Every muscle in her body hung an inch lower. Her fine brown hair was damp with sweat. The once "perfect-pony-tail" that sat on her head was tattered and untidy. Her sleeveless leotard made of crushed blue velvet was coated with a layer of chalk. Her heart was coated with a layer of pain.

"It's nine p.m. Amelia! The gym is closing," said the gymnastics coach, Christopher Angmear in a low and sorrowful voice.

He was twenty-seven and had been training Amelia for ten years. Many of the scars on his muscular body were from spotting Amelia on exigent skills. Most of his time and energy was put into her career.

"One more routine." Amelia barked as she jumped on to the bar. Instead of protesting he simply brushed his dirty-blonde hair from his eyes and watched. Christopher loved Amelia's excellence on the uneven bars. When she did her bar routine her worries evaporated and were replaced with concentration. As she stuck her dismount two men began taking down the uneven bars, the last piece of equipment in the gym.

Amelia slowly sat on the mat, and laid her head in her torn-up hands. "I can't beleive it's over," she whispered.

"You're only seventeen Amelia. Don't worry about me. Move on and be the Olympian that I know you can be. You can...-"

"Sorry to interrupt," said one of the men moving out the sold equipment. "We have to take the mat."

Christopher nodded and then picked Amelia up, allowing her to wrap her small but muscular frame around his body. She muffled her sobs by burying her face into his shoulder.

"Why did you choose to tell me today that the doctor said you have two years to live when you knew for over a year?"

"Because I knew you would have quit gymnastics. I wanted to keep the gym open as long as possible. I think I've prepared you to go to any gym you want, and make it to the Olympics," he pleaded.

"Do you honestly think I still want to go to the Olympics with out you? Gymnastics was my first love but it never loved me back. It's not fair; you're only twenty-seven, you're not suppossed to have cancer. Ever since we met we had to wait to be together. Now that I'm finally old enough, it's over." Her body began to tremble. "It's not fair. You're so brave Chris. I wish I could do something to keep you."

He held her tighter and then put his lips next to her ear and whispered, "you can."

******

"Ladies and gentlemen I am talking to Amelia Angmear, Who just clenched Olympic Gold on the uneven bars for the U.S.A," Said a female reporter at the Olympics, a year after Christophers death. "Amelia how are you feeling?"

"I'm in shock I never thought I had the chance at gold," answered Amelia trying to avoid looking into the camera.

"So what got you this far?" Inquiered the smug reporter.

Amelia lowered her head for a moment and then stared strait into the camera. Not caring who saw her tears she answered, " My first coach, my friend, and my husband Christopher Angmear."

After the interveiws were over, and the noisy crowd dissappeared Amilia trudged over to the bar set and performed one last routine. It was full of passion and emotion dedicated to Christopher.

The next day She had arrived at her home town in California at mid-night. Instead of calling her family to pick her up, she walked four miles to reach Christopher's grave. She had made a boquet of all the flowers her fans had given to her. She gently laid it on the grave site, "This belongs to you."

Amilia talked to him all night. She told him how exciting the Olymics had been, and how he would have loved to be there. She didn't leave until the sun came up, but before she did, she burried the gold medal in the flowers. "You keep it."

After she went home and got some sleep, She drove back to the cemetary in her trusted Chevy Cobalt. Instead of letting the gold medal be stolen she donated it to the cancer fondation. She couldn't stand the thought of cancer causing that much pain to others.