Bouncing Back Ch. 01

The kids were driving me crazy. That was nothing new. Wayne had work to do, a big presentation on Monday. He was in his home office with the door shut. So it was down to me; again! Never mind that I had a big week coming up too. Oh no! Now they were screaming at each other.

I wouldn't mind, but I'd done so many things with them. Arts and crafts. A board game, though it had taken twenty minutes to find one they both agreed on. I guess the tastes of an eight year old and six year old are different. Baking cookies. Fixing lunch. And I'd just made myself a coffee and sat down for a few moments. And now a fight. I went and inserted myself between the warring parties.

"OK, you two! What's going on?"

Mabel, my eldest, shouted first. "He drew on my picture. He's the worst." I wouldn't have blinked an eye if steam had started coming out of her ears.

Her younger brother spoke with equal stridence, and a tone that small boys alone seem capable of. "She made a face at me. She's so mean." James also looked volcanic.

Five minutes! That's all I wanted. Looking at the table, there was indeed an ugly scribble in one corner of Mabel's otherwise pristine unicorn drawing.

"Look, both of you. It's not nice to pull faces, and it's really not nice to ruin someone's drawing."

Thankfully the scrawl was in pencil, and I helped Mabel erase it. I took a deep breath. "Give me a few minutes. I'm going to talk to Daddy."

They settled back down to their respective projects and I knocked on Wayne's door. He looked up from his laptop and offered a cheery greeting. "Hi, honey. How's it going?"

"Oh, you know. The usual. Are you close to being done?"

"No, not yet. Got an email and I have to cover another area. It's going to be a few more hours."

"Couldn't you...? I could do with a break."

Wayne smiled ruefully. His 'I'd love to help, but...' look. I'd got very used to that look.

"Take them out."

"Where, Wayne? It's raining. Has been all day."

Another of his looks. 'Deep thought, intended to convince my wife I actually care.'

Suddenly his face brightened. "What about that trampoline place? The one that's in the old Walmart building. We got a flyer."

Maybe that was an idea. Get them to burn off some energy. "OK, want to come with us? I could use some help."

Again the 'I'd love to but...' look. The one I frequently got when I asked him if he'd like to fool around. Though, to be fair, I often had my own excuses when he expressed an interest. It seemed our libidos were out of synch. Not like before. Before the mortgage. Before the children. Before life. Back when we had an existence other than as parents.

"Well, thanks for nothing, Wayne."

I slammed his door behind me. At least the kids were excited. A change of clothes, Mabel wanted to wear her gym kit. Both going to the bathroom. The mandatory squabble getting into the minivan. And we were finally on our way.

Again, I'm being unfair. I'd taken time to change myself. Well, I had to. I'd not managed to get out of my PJs yet, though it was past two in the afternoon. I'd found the most athletic things in what I knew was essentially now a mom wardrobe. Some rather old gray leggings and a baggy T-shirt. Optimistically, I had also put on a sports bra. It was tighter than it used to be, but not so uncomfortable. You see I had an idea.

Rain lashed the windshield as I drove. So much for July. My mind drifted back to earlier. In our bedroom. What used to be our happy place. The woman in the mirror. The same. But so different from when we had bought the house. The bedroom in which I had once cum so hard that I'd soaked the sheets. My main source of orgasms now was a bullet vibrator; one that I kept secret from Wayne. Then I knew he had his secrets too. A hastily closed browser showing an OnlyFans page. Porn carelessly not cleared from his history. I guess it was ironic really. I had become a mom he didn't want to fuck.

And then my body. A previous source of pride, now turned to distress. I had been a catch. Back then at least. I grew too tall for the gymnastic team, anyway who needs the pressure of competing? But I'd kept it up as a hobby. And I swam and played tennis. I was in great shape. By some freak of genetics, my taut frame had been slung with breasts whose fullness seemed impervious to either exercise or diet. Skinny and with a great rack. I guess I was an ideal shape, or so various boyfriends had told me. One said that if I had been blonde, I would have been a ten. Well this brunette had had as much fun as any blonde at college.

Now? Well the mirror doesn't lie. Good breasts still, certainly for my age. But no longer great. Children and a related lack of exercise had seen to that. A tummy that was far from its former flatness; I could pinch way too many inches there. And an ass, one that used to be so pert, which was beginning to sag and show signs of cellulite. What did I expect at forty-one? Then sometimes I felt the real me was trapped inside a body that was not my own.

Wayne and I had hooked up at the beginning of senior year. He wasn't really my usual type. I'd dated football players more than runners with a 4.0 GPA. But there was something about him. He wasn't scared of me, like so many guys. He made me laugh. There was a spark. Smiling, I remembered his look of astonishment the first time I had let him see me naked. The smile evaporated as I thought that it had been years since I had seen that desire in his face. Maybe he reserved it for whatever OnlyFans teen he was subscribed to.

Possibly it would have been different if the kids had come earlier. Perhaps my younger body would have recovered better. But come they wouldn't. Not for any lack of trying. And the trying had been lots of fun. Until it wasn't. Until the continual disappointment turned it into a chore. A routine of counting days and taking temperature readings. Attempted breeding, love-making no more.

And that was when the arguments had started. The blame. The recriminations. In truth, it was both of us. Low sperm count and chronic anovulation was a bad combination. Still it was easier to take out our frustrations on each other than on the cruel randomness of Nature.

Which had led to IVF. Which led to Mabel. And our joy was complete. Until, a few months later, I was pregnant again. No medical intervention required this time. We'd assumed that birth control wasn't something we needed to worry about. But here we were. The doctor said that it was not uncommon after one IVF child. Why did no one tell us that before? It wasn't that we didn't want James. He was a blessing. But a surprising one nevertheless. And two kids was a lot harder than one.

But we were there now. The lot wasn't too busy. I got the kids out of the car and into the short queue. The spotty youth behind the desk raised an eyebrow when I asked for two kids and an adult. If he had seen me at twenty, it would be more than just his eyebrows rising. Now I was just another mom; I might as well have been a different species. Still he sold me the tickets and three pairs of socks. Mine in mom-size no doubt.

It was as much as I could do to keep Mabel and James from running off immediately. After the normal struggles, they were shoeless, and sporting their new, grippy socks. And they were off. I figured there were supervisors and focused on myself; rather wishing that I'd not worn boots.

Finally changed, I wandered up to the main area. To one side older boys were playing dodgeball with gusto. To the other was a foam pit and some trampolines with basketball hoops at one end. But the center contained a grid of thirty, black, mini-trampolines with narrow, pink walkways between them. Mabel was busily leaping from one to another, up and down the length of the room. James was contentedly bouncing in place, a broad grin on his face.

"Mommy! Come bounce with me."

I stepped onto the nearest mat, with the intent of joining my son. The surface was less resistant than I had anticipated and I suddenly sat down. James guffawed. Mortified I looked around. The attendants were studiously ignoring me, but I caught the eye of another mom. She looked empathetic.

"I do that all the time."

Before we could exchange any further words, her little boy started wailing and she hurried to him, bounding across the trampolines.

That settled it. If she could cope, surely a college gymnast could. Recalibrating for the stretchiness of the floor, I made my way to James. When I reached his cell, I was treated to an unpatronizing, "well done, Mommy."

We joined hands and bounced together, him giggling at the increased amplitude my additional weight caused. It was surprisingly aerobic, maybe just testament to my lost fitness. But it was also kinda fun. Not much like the full-sized trampolines I had used in my past life. But still fun.

With a loud whoop, Mabel joined us. "Hi, Mom. This is great. Can you do tricks?"

I'd told her long ago about my gymnastic past. I was always amazed what they remembered. And what they chose not to of course.

"Well, I don't know, Mabs. It was a long time ago."

Something stirred in me. Pride maybe? A desire to be a hero in my daughter's eyes? Looking around no invigilators were that close. Maybe I could just try...

I moved to an adjacent trampoline and began to bounce. Higher than I had dared with James. 'Let's see what I can do?'

At the top of the next bounce, I touched my toes. And stuck the landing. One recovery bounce, and I went for spreading my legs as far as I could. 'Oh!' I felt that in my C-section scar. 'Maybe don't do that again. Something else.'

I spent two more bounces thinking and then it came to me. A forward somersault. I used to be able to do triples. One should be a breeze.

As I flew upwards, I changed my body position, tucked in my head and let the angular momentum pull me forward. I was doing it. The room spun around me, and I just had time to think, 'I'm a cool mom,' when one of my feet landed off the side of the trampoline, and the other on it. Thrown off balance, I tumbled down. I was vaguely aware of Mabel screaming, "Mommy!" as my head hit on one of the pink walkways. They were padded but my head still rang like a bell. For a few seconds, things were blurry. And I couldn't draw a breath.

I could hear Mabel screaming and James wailing. But dimly, as if I was inside a glass walled room. Then I felt a tremor as someone crouched next to me. A face semi-resolved on my traumatized visual cortex, and I heard a voice. A female voice, clear and calming.

"Are you OK? Don't try to move. Just blink twice if you are OK."

I blinked once and then again. I was coming back to myself, and heard the woman address the children.

"Mommy is OK. What are your names? Oh those are nice names. Well, James and Mabel, my friend Alyssa here is going to look after you. She's nice. I'm just going to check your mom. What's her name?"

It was odd hearing them say, "Cathy." I was used to my name being just 'Mom.'

I was dimly aware of a second figure standing next to the shadowy forms of Mabel and James. It stooped down and then the three blurred shapes receded from my view.

I strained to see where they were going. Then the voice spoke again. "Well, Cathy. I'm Sarah. And I'm going to make sure you are OK."

I found I could breathe again. And even speak. "My kids. My kids. Are they OK? Are you... are you a doctor?"

My helper's face was now clearer, and she smiled. "Your kids are fine. And I'll be a doctor one day. I'm a first year med student. But I've also had training from being a lifeguard. I'll look after you."

And so I let her.

The more I felt like myself, the more thorough I realized Sarah was. She magicked a pen flashlight from a pocket and shone it into each eye, gazing at me intently. She felt around my cranium. She gently turned my head first left and then right. I thought she would produce a stethoscope next. She checked my pulse. And there was something about her fingertips on my wrist; a feeling, a memory of a feeling. My rediscovered breath came a little quicker.

When she spoke, Sarah was professional and reassuring. "Heart rate and breathing a little elevated, then that's the adrenaline. How do you feel now, Cathy? I think it's OK to sit up if you would like to."

She offered me a hand. I gratefully accepted it, levering myself up to squat, my knees drawn up to my chest. I could speak fine now, though Sarah was right about my fluttering heart. "I'm so sorry about all the fuss. Trying to relive past glories, if I'm honest."

I felt acutely embarrassed, but Sarah's reply surprised me. "It's Cathy Cassidy, right?"

"Er... yeah. Or rather, no. I was Cassidy. I'm Reed now. But how...?"

Sarah smiled. "It's no mystery. There is a photo of you in the trophy cabinet at Village High School. It's pretty prominent. Next to some golden cup."

I felt my cheeks redden. "Oh that... My last comp."

"You gave it up?"

I was a little flummoxed by the direction the conversation was taking. "Yeah. I grew three inches in the summer before college. Became a bit ungainly. And anyway, I'd had enough of the training, and the pressure. So there you are. That and I was more interested in boys."

My mind was no longer befuddled and a thought crossed it. 'What was I doing sharing my biography with a total stranger?' But she didn't feel like a stranger. Not one little bit. A bunch of different emotions and thoughts whirling through my head, I decided to do something positive. "I think I can stand. Where are the kids?"

I insisted on getting to my feet without further assistance. Sarah watched me carefully, then answered my question. "They are with my colleague. We can go find them. If you are OK walking."

I said I was and she led me through a door marked, 'Employees Only.' There were Mabel and James playing Legos happily with another woman; Alyssa, I assumed. They both looked up as I walked in. Then, with a scraping of chairs, they ran to embrace me.

There was a flurry of hugs and of "you're OK, Mommy"s. I smiled at Sarah and Alyssa, now standing together and said, "thank you!" to both.

James piped up. "Can we go back to the trampolines now?" He looked up at me with pleading in his face.

"I don't know, Jamie, I think Mommy might need to go home."

Sarah interjected. "I don't think you should drive right now, Mrs Cass... Reed. If you want to just sit down here for a while, Alyssa can supervise the kids. Would that be OK?"

I nodded gratefully. Then Sarah continued. "The protocol is to observe you for a while anyway. So I'll keep you company. We can compare notes on gymnastics." Her reassuring smile was back.

For reasons I didn't quite understand, I was grateful that she had offered to stay. I guess I was just shook up. "Yes, thank you. That would be fine. So kind of you... Of both of you." I hastily added.

There was a leatherette bench running alongside one wall of the room, and this seemed a more comfortable option than the chairs around the Lego table. We sat side by side.

"You can go back to Cathy, if you'd like. Mrs Reed makes me feel ancient."

Sarah opened her mouth to speak and then a chime sounded.

"Sorry. Can I just check this?"

She pulled a phone from her back pocket and scanned the screen. "Just my ex."

I indicated that of course it was OK. The text seemed to be a long one and she pored over it, her head dipped. I could see an expression of frustration form on her features.

Without trying to be too obvious, I studied her face. Framed by short, dark hair; cut into choppy bangs. She had prominent cheekbones and a pale tone. Her skin had a slight unevenness, the residue of teen acne maybe. And one cheek had a small birthmark. Her nose was thin, and slightly upturned, conveying a sense of intelligence. But it was her eyes that really caught my attention. Green, with radiating flecks of amber. Full of life.

Sarah was mouthing something to herself as she read, and her lips were full, despite being devoid of any gloss. Indeed she seemed to wear no make-up at all. I didn't think she needed to.

Reaching the end of her message, Sarah suddenly stood up, clearly annoyed. She paced, dealing with some strong emotion. I was taken by how athletic her body was, how graceful her movements. She was tall, maybe just an inch or two shorter than me. It suddenly struck me that I had totally been checking her out. 'What the fuck, Cathy?' I shook my head, trying to dislodge unhelpful thoughts.

"Is there a problem, Sarah?"

She paused her pacing and returned my gaze. It seemed she was deliberating whether or not to confide in me. Taking a decision, Sarah breathed deeply and spoke, looking at the wall rather than me. "Oh, she's just impossible. That's all. I guess that's partly why we broke up."

Sarah sighed again and looked at me. I was suddenly aware that I had been staring at her open-mouthed. At the word, "she," my heart had started pounding. 'Shit, woman, are you a teenager or something?'

I'd experimented at college, doesn't everyone? But it had never been serious. So why had this young woman made such an impact on me? I had still not spoken, and it was getting awkward. "Oh, that sounds... difficult." I was clearly as tongue-tied as a teen as well. Sheesh!

"Oh, it's no big deal really. I just wish she was more reasonable."

With that Sarah sat down. The bench reverberated under the weight of her descent, and she looked at me sheepishly.

I giggled. "Not either of our days for clean dismounts, I guess."

Sarah threw her head back and laughed; a beautiful, musical sound. "Yep, you're right. Call ourselves gymnasts?"

"Never mind about your ex. You've got me to talk to now."

'Fuck! Did I just say that?' I scanned Sarah's face for some sign of disgust at my clumsy, middle-aged foolishness.

But none was forthcoming. Instead she took my hand in hers, patting it with the other. "Feeling better?"

I nodded. Sarah disengaged, laying her hands on her lap. I missed her proximity immediately. It was all I could do to stop myself from reaching out and grasping her palms again. I was aware of her breathing. Aware of her shoulder brushing against mine. Aware of her nose, now wrinkled in amusement at herself. Most of all, aware that she was -- unlike me -- single, and liked other women. Though I dared not think other women like me.

We chatted a little. I did my best to stop a revealing tremor from manifesting in my voice. A bit about her. Sarah was twenty-four, twenty-five in September. Her med school was out of state, she was just home for the summer. The trampoline park was to help make ends meet.

Then she started talking about her ex. As naturally as she had about her studies. A woman called Izzy. Another trainee doctor, two years older than her. Apparently, Izzy had wanted to get serious, while Sarah felt they were too young. I was amazed how easy Sarah was to talk to, how open she was about her life.

I found myself talking about Wayne. Our problems. My frustrations. I'd not told another soul any of this. With her it just seemed normal, like we had known each other for decades. Decades? It struck me that two decades ago, Sarah was in a stroller. What was going on here?

Perhaps beginning to feel a little uncomfortable, I changed the subject. Gymnastics was the obvious choice. Sarah had questions. She asked if it was true that I'd been able to do a triple somersault.

"Yeah - it was my special move. Kinda laughable I can't even do one now. Then that was when I had a body to be proud of. Now...?"