Authors: Kristen Kehoe
Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Women's Fiction, #Contemporary Women, #Romance, #Contemporary, #Contemporary Fiction, #Teen & Young Adult
I step out of Starbucks into the bright May sunshine with Gracie on my hip and Tripp holding the door from behind me and almost slam into Mrs. Kash.
Melanie
, I think. The sun gleams off of her shiny blonde hair and as I take in her power suit of pink and white, her high heels and her man-size handbag, I know this is no coincidence. Even still, she plasters a fake smile on her face and babbles out words, ending on “isn’t this a surprise?”
Sure thing, lady.
This is my coffee shop—it’s on campus and I know that in order to get here she would have had to pass at least two other Starbucks on the way down from her mansion on the hill in west Corvallis, so I wait while she attempts to smile and make small talk like we’re old friends. I hold Gracie close, pleased when she refuses to acknowledge any of Melanie’s attempts to engage her.
“Rachel, I’m so glad to see you.”
My eyebrow wings up on its own accord. “I’m pretty sure it was clear from my lawyer that the only way you were to see me again was in court. Is that what you want?”
Her smile dims, as do her eyes, but she holds her ground and stays in front of us. I feel Tripp step even closer, and I lean back slightly to let him know that he’s good, we’re good. She can’t touch us.
“Yes, well, I feel we’ve gotten off to a bad start and I’d like to make it up to you. To you and Gracie.” Her eyes flick briefly to Tripp and for an instant I see the disgust, the irritation, the anger, and then they’re back on me and I see nothing. “Maybe we could talk in private for a moment?”
“No.”
She stares at me as I answer, appearing truly confused for the first time since I met her a few months ago. “Excuse me?”
Ah yes, the rich woman way of saying
what the fuck
? The snarled
excuse me?
that indicates confusion, irritation, and annoyance at being denied anything, while still maintaining the pretense of politeness. Well played, Melanie.
“No,” I repeat and watch those eyes ice over. Suddenly, I’m facing Marcus as he stares me down and tries to scare me, only this time I’m not pregnant, scared, and alone, and I have something even bigger to fight for. Straightening my shoulders, I bring myself up to my full
height and offer a pleased smile when she has to tilt her head back. Yeah, I won’t be shoved around,
Melanie
, so watch your step.
“You ca
n spare five minutes,” she begins, and this time it’s Tripp who cuts her off.
“She said no. Just like she said no the last time you wanted something from her, just like she said no to your son when he tried to intimidate her, and just like her lawyer has said no.”
She’s breathing hard now, her chest heaving with barely controlled fury, her face pinched as she tries to reign in her anger. Her eyes are hard as they sweep over Tripp. “Don’t ever talk about my son. Don’t either of you ever talk about him,” she says again, her voice rising and bubbling with hysteria.
I shift Gracie to Tripp and step forward, laying my hand on her shoulder. “Mrs. Kash,” I begin
, but she steps back.
The words that come next are bitter, hard as they scrape out of her throat and up to be spit at me. “He’s going to leave you. They always do. They look at you one day and their eyes hold nothing but disgust, anger, contempt. Blame. He’s going to leave you to raise that girl and then you’ll be alone with a child who blames you, who doesn’t love you, and who will eventually leave you, too. What will you do then?”
I shake my head but she can’t see me, just like she can’t see Gracie or Tripp anymore. She’s in her own problems now, her own sad and shadowed life, and it doesn’t matter what we do or say, she won’t hear us.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her, because I am. Even though I hate this woman for what she’s tried to do, I feel bad for her, too, watching her mourn the family that wasn’t what she wanted or needed it to be.
My words must snap her back to the present because she blinks twice and then shakes her head and begins searching her bag for her keys. “She gets nothing from this family, do you hear me? I won’t have you coming after money in five years when you realize how pitiful your life is.” She stops talking long enough to grasp her keys and leave me with one long, hard stare. “I’ll draft papers and send them to your lawyer. I expect you to sign them, freeing my son and our family of any responsibility to that child.”
I nod, a gesture I’m sure my lawyer will gut me for later, but I can’t say no. I don’t care what the papers say as long as it makes Gracie mine and mine alone. She turns and leaves then, no last words or parting shot
, and I’m left alone with my daughter and my boyfriend. “My daughter,” I say, and feel Tripp’s hand as he grasps mine and links our fingers.
“Treat,” Gracie says out of nowhere and I’m laughing, nodding my head and pressing a kiss to her temple.
I walk home with my hand in his and Gracie running in front of us, her small orange Nikes smacking the pavement as she races a few feet ahead, pretending to sniff all of the flowers. Squeezing his hand, I smile as we walk, secure in the knowledge that Tripp was right—I’m not alone.
~
Coach calls me to the side in the middle of first period volleyball while everyone else is getting water. Wiping my forearm over my brow, I jog across the court to stand next to him, resting my hands on my hips. JOs aren’t until July, but he’s full speed ahead on our workouts, kicking our asses with agility and plyometric training at least twice a week, switching it out to strength and speed training the other two. We then do the normal technical training after. I’ve lost a couple pounds and I’m dog tired every night, but I’m hitting harder than I ever have, jumping higher and reacting quicker, so I know he’s doing his job.
“Coach?”
“You gotten some calls since we got back from Reno, Flow?”
I nod, thinking about the emails and phone calls I’d been getting for the past week or so, all from coaches in or around the south and Midwest. A few from the Seattle area, one from Southern Oregon. Nothing from home.
“Any idea what you want?” I shake my head. He nods and chomps on the bubble gum that’s habitually in the pocket of his cheek. “Flow, I’m gonna be honest with you, they can’t take you out of the running because of your situation, so if you want to play, you’re gonna play. Now, you’re a six footer whose just about tapped out her growth, so you’re not irreplaceable at the division I level—there are more of you out there with less baggage. You catch my drift?” I nod, knowing this is as hard for him as it is for me. I was his pride and joy and I fucked up. I missed an entire year of training, of being seen, of showing California and Penn State and Washington and all of the other big name schools what I could do, and as a result, I’m not getting those offers, offers Coach worked hard to set me up for my first two years with him.
“I’m sorry,” I say suddenly, and he stops. “I’m sorry this didn’t work out the way you want
ed, Coach, that you missed the championship twice and that I wasn’t here one of those times to help the way I should have been. Even sorrier that you have to have this conversation with me when we both envisioned it going a lot differently a couple of years ago.”
He nods, then does the unheard of and puts his hand on my shoulder in a gesture of support. “Flow—Rachel,” he corrects. “I’m proud of you.
” He clears his throat when my eyes widen and pats my shoulder before taking his hand back. “I know you’ve got a lot going on, and I know things are hard, but you’re still one of the best I’ve ever coached—not just because you’re built to play, but because you love it, and you work for it. I got a call this afternoon,” he continues while I sit there reeling. Coach isn’t exactly known for his sensitive side. Lesser girls than I have cried after a word from him. “The coach here is an old friend of mine. He wanted to let me know he’s going to be calling you—that he’d like to offer you a chance to play for them. It’s not guaranteed, and you’d have to go through walk-on tryouts. If those go well, maybe in a year or two he’ll have the money to give you, but he very much wants to see you become a part of their team. If you want that.”
I stare at him for a second, aware that the other girls are done getting water and are beginning their drills again. Whistles blow and shouts surround me, but I stay where I am next to Coach, my back to everyone else as it hits me. A different future, but a future just the same. A future I’ve worked for, one that means being home with my family, with Gracie, with Stacy and the baby and my mom. With Tripp.
I tell him I’ll think about it and finish my training session, heading in when the bell rings.
I go to see Flynny after class and talk it out instead of going to second period. I’m not even surprised that she’s the first person I tell—whoever I was four years ago when she started bringing me in once a week, I’ve changed, and I know all of that change, from the badass ignore everyone me, to the depressed ignore everyone me, to the mommy me, to the girlfriend-mommy-athlete me owes a lot to this woman who helped me through every transition. And now I need her help with this last one.
I give a slight knock and watch through the window until she looks up from her desk and motions me in. I close the door behind me and take my normal seat, easing back as she comes around to sit next to me.
“Rae, I was going to call you in tomorrow for our regular weekly.”
“Yeah, I just needed to see you today. I hope that’s okay.”
She smiles as if what I’ve said is amusing. “Of course it’s okay. What’s on your mind?”
“I got an offer this week. Several, actually, but one I think I want.”
“Think?”
I nod. “You’re good at that, Ms. Flynn, picking up on the things I don’t say, or the things I say that are actually the point. I guess that’s why I’m here.” I swallow and wipe my palms on the thighs of my pants. “I need your help.”
Her smile widens exponentially, her lips curving until her face beams. “Tell me what’s going on, Rae.”
“After the qualifying tournament a few weeks ago, I got some calls from coaches. Some big, but mostly smaller, lower level division I schools, some DII schools from all over. And then this morning Coach tells me I’ve got an offer from the university here at home. It’s not a full ride, or even a guaranteed spot on their team. More like an invitation to try.” I blow out a breath and tuck my hands under my thighs before speaking again. “I’m good—I’m not as tall as some of the girls that will be at the big name California schools or everywhere else, but I’m pretty comparable, and my strong side is different than most, so that’s in my favor.”
“So what’s bothering you?”
“I wasn’t playing club when most girls got recruited. I was having a baby, and then I was dealing with my shit. Now I’m here and I’m playing, but there’s still that weight that comes with me, and I don’t blame coaches who might be hesitant to take a chance on me. Even if they don’t say it, I know it. I have a baby, I have a different life, so I’m a different type of gamble, and still, some people are willing to take me as is, paying my way for everything.”
“But,” she says and I nod.
“But. I don’t want to go somewhere else, somewhere that isn’t home, no matter how much they pay me. I figured that out before I even went to this last tournament, but I didn’t have these kinds of offers then. Now that I have them, plus the invited walk-on at this university, it’s a struggle to think it all through. What’s the right move, what’s the wrong one, you know?”
“Rachel, what’s most important to you?”
“Gracie,” I say without hesitation. Then I add, “And Tripp. I know that sounds weird since we’re young and a few months ago we were both dating other people, but even if he wasn’t my boyfriend, he’d be important to me. Now, other than Gracie, he’s the person I need the most. The person I want with me the most,” I finish.
She smiles, her hand coming to my knee when she leans over to make eye contact with me. “Then I think you’ve already made your decision and what you’re really looking for is approval. If that’s the case, then I give mine, though we both know you don’t need it. I not only approve of your choice to stay here, Rae, but I commend it.”
I hold her gaze for a moment and then I let out a slow breath, aware that the tightness in my chest is easing, the pressure dissipating slightly. My shoulders uncoil just the slightest bit, and the headache I’ve been carrying with me the past few days eases off gently. “Why should it matter to me what people think? Clearly I’ve never wanted anyone’s approval before. Why now?”
She shrugs. “Because your life has been in a constant state of change since Gracie, and right now, during a time when most people are only looking ahead at what could be, you’re looking ahead while seeing what already is. Your future already has some concretes, like Gracie and Tripp, so your choices are a little more difficult. In choosing to stay here, you give up another piece of that dream that you’ve held in the back of your heart for the last few years, and even though it’s for a better dream, it still hurts to let go.”