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“You’re young, and change can be good. I’m so different from who I was at twenty-two, and I’m glad for that. Younger Dallas wouldn’t stand a chance at being a father and keeping another human healthy and alive, but we’re hanging in there okay.” There’s another pause. He runs his hand through his hair and tugs on the longer pieces near his ears. He turns thoughtful and quiet when he says, “For the record, I like the new Maven. She’s kicking ass. She’s kind and she’s thoughtful, and she’s definitelymorethan enough. Even if she can’t see it for herself just yet.”
“Wow.” I blow out a breath, suddenly warm all over. “Seems like we’re both trying to figure this whole life thing out.”
“I think I’m going to be trying to figure it out for a long time. And I think that’s okay.” Dallas adjusts his position on his stool and taps his fingers on his beer bottle. “Will you tell me about soccer? When did you start? Why did you stop?”
EIGHT
MAVEN
It’sa story I dread sharing.
There’s resentment in the memory and anger when I think about how different things would be if the freak accident didn’t happen. I try to avoid talking about it. I bat away questions when asked why I no longer play.
With Dallas next to me, though, I feel like I can be honest. We’ve only spent seven days together, and he’s already shown me bits and pieces of himself. The messy parts and the moments of weakness he’s tried to hide, but I’ve caught glimpses of them.
Like when he pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes last night when June had a meltdown, screaming on her back in the middle of the living room and refusing to be held or soothed. I remember the exhaustion on his face when he got home tonight after the team’s debrief post scrimmage, his body aching and his mind tired.
I don’t know how he does it, but I admire the hell out of him for accomplishing it all.
His knee against mine is a steady pillar. The thick line of his thigh is the courage I need to roll my shoulders back and talk.
“My dad signed me up for a recreational soccer league when I was four, and I never looked back. I was obsessed. Totallyinfatuated. I did other sports too, like swimming and cross country, but I kept coming back to soccer,” I say.
“You played in college, right?”
“I did. I was on an athletic scholarship. I had dreams of making a team in the National Women’s Soccer League then earning a spot on the World Cup team. The universe had other plans for me, and here we are.”
“An injury,” he says, and I nod.
I touch my necklace and pull the chain from side to side. The gold piece of jewelry with an M dangling from the chain is a gift from Shawn on my sixteenth birthday, and I always find myself reaching for it when I’m nervous or on edge. “My junior year. A mistimed tackle caused my leg to shatter in two places. My knee, in particular, was the most fucked up.”
Dallas winces. He squeezes my shoulder before letting go. “Shit. That’s devastating, Maven. How fucking painful.”
“It was excruciating, but the aftermath was even worse. I did my rehab. I followed the doctor’s orders. The tendons and ligaments repaired themselves, but they weren’t as strong as before. I was warned that if I tried to play at that high of a level again, I’d risk another injury. I was so defeated the first time, and I couldn’t imagine going through it again. I haven’t stepped on a field since.”
I rub my right knee as I talk. There’s always a phantom ache in my leg, a shitty reminder I’ll never be the athlete I once was.
My brain accepted the change in my life two years ago without skipping a beat, ready to move on and excited to find the next thing that would define me. My heart has been slower. Reluctant to catch up and holding on to something from the past.
I keep waiting, like maybe soon I’ll wake up and be who I was before.
It hasn’t happened yet. And every day I stay the same, that mediocre girl who’s flailing through life, trying to find the direction she wants to go and lay down some roots, I lose a little more hope.
“I’ll tell you a story about this college football player,” Dallas says. “A running back set to be a star in the NFL with a lucrative contract on the horizon. First game of freshman year, he tore his ACL on a freak play. He slipped on the field. Didn’t even get hit, and his season was over. He came back sophomore year and played, but it was like he was afraid. He didn’t take the risks he used to. His body didn’t move the same way. He was always a half step behind when he used to be two steps ahead.”
“That’s sad.” There’s a pang in my chest, all too familiar. “What happened to him?”
Dallas stands up. He walks across the living room and grabs something off the bookshelf in the corner. When he makes his way back to the kitchen, he tosses me a small velvet box. I open the hinges and see a Super Bowl ring, a hundred diamonds sparkling under the ceiling lights.
“He adjusted,” he says, and his voice is thick with emotion. I whip my head up and stare at him, confused.
“I thought you were always a kicker,” I say softly and I run my finger over the engravings on the ring. “You’re so small. Smaller than the other running backs in the league, I mean. Compared to the general population you’re a giant.”
“Don’t kick my ego when I’m down, Maven.” He smiles, but it’s strained. “I figured out how to keep doing the thing I love and be the best to ever do it. It looks a little different from how it used to, but I’m still out there. I’ve failed a lot of times, and it’s why I’m so fucking terrified of it. I know how it feels when you’re in the trenches of hell, and I know how awful it is when you feel like nothing can go right. But let me tell you something;youare not a failure. If you never play soccer again, then you never playagain. It doesn’t make you any less than the woman you’d be if you went pro. Am I any less because I kick the ball instead of run it?”
“No,” I whisper, and it’s the truth. I spent more time today watching him than anyone else, awed by his poise and the strength of his leg. “You’re not.”
“And neither are you. You can hang on to that pain of the past, of what you used to be, or you can recognize that sometimes life doesn’t go the way you want it to. You find a new way to get what you want. Football was the love of my life, and I refused to give it up. So I found a loophole. A workaround. If soccer is what you want to do, you’ll find a way. And if you don’t, that’s okay, too.”
