"I hope you’re right, and I hope I figure it out soon, so we can have a shot at it this year.I hear Entay’s retiring, so this year might be his last shot."
I’ve heard the rumors about Callaghan retiring as well.CC has been getting more time in goal since the Global Games, so it’s probably not as much of a rumor as it is an inevitability.It’s yet another reminder that I need to figure out what I’m going to do with myself when my soccer days are over.
If I can figure out what I want to be when I grow up, then maybe, just maybe, I’d be in a position to be able to date Rachel.I have to get my life together before I could even consider asking her to take a chance on me.
In the meantime, I’ve got to keep feeding the algorithm that is my current cash cow.Hopping up, I swipe open the app."Hey guys, let’s make a video."There’s a collective groan."All I’m gonna do is ask you who on the team is the …" I search my brain for something—anything—that will get views and laughs."For who has the best pregame playlist."
By the time I’m done interviewing my teammates, the consensus is that Merriweather Hayes has the best pregame playlist.Maliq Miller got an honorable mention, and Andy Bracer was voted to have the lamest playlist.We board the plane, and I spend a large chunk of the flight editing the video.I should be trying to sleep like most of my teammates are doing, but there’s something fulfilling about taking raw footage and turning it into a polished video.
Not bad multitasking while cruising at 40,000 feet above the country.
We arrive, and while I’d like to wait for Rachel, the bus isn’t going to wait for me.I’ll call her as soon as I get home.She should be on the ground by then.I wonder what her arrangements are for getting home.
I should have asked her.I should have made sure she was okay.That she was taken care of.As soon as I get on the bus, I’ll text her.
Except the minute I’m on the bus, fatigue sets in, weighing my eyelids down like sandbags.One second later, we’re pulling into the parking lot where our cars have been for the better part of the week.Even though everyone is talking and jostling me, I can barely keep my eyes open long enough to stand up.I struggle to my feet and shuffle down the aisle.
I have never felt so tired in all my life.
"Doyle!"
I can’t even figure out who’s yelling my name.I feel drunk or drugged or something.
Coach Janssen shakes my shoulder."Doyle?You alright?"
I nod, my eyes threatening to close again."A little tired."
"You sleep on the flight?"he asks."Don’t tell me you didn’t."
The time changes are hard enough on our bodies.We’re still practicing and training.We need sleep.I committed a cardinal sin by not sleeping on my flight."I was stupid, I know.I got involved in a project."
Coach calls over one of the training staff to drive me home.I’d argue, but I’m too tired.I don’t remember getting home.I don’t remember walking into my place.I remember nothing until I awake with a start in the fading evening light.
My watch tells me it’s almost six p.m.I feel like I went on a bender last night.All I did was stay up for way too long after a night of barely any sleep because of Rachel.
Rachel.
I fumble for my phone, but it’s dead.Shit.My bags are sitting neatly next to my door.I have no recollection of carrying them in.Probably because I didn’t, according to the note on my counter.Apparently, Berat brought me home.My car is still at the facility.He didn’t want me panicking when I couldn’t find it.
I feel like a moron.How could I have been so stupid as to stay up for that entire flight?Just so I could do what?Make a stupid video?Because I wanted to try something new?Because I wanted to make content that didn’t involve me stripping down?
My phone has enough juice to power on.There are no missed calls or texts from Rachel.My mom, yes.She always wants to know if I got in okay.But nothing from Rachel.
I can’t believe that after everything, she wouldn’t at least text me.
The first text goes to Ma, who responds with a string of texts, using all shouty caps, dressing me down for worrying her like that.She finally stops her rant with a threat to pick me up from all my games and travel to make sure I get home safely.
Thirty-two years old, and my mom is still treating me like I’m twelve.
She means well.She loves me, and this is how she shows it.I’m lucky to have her.Some people don’t have caring mothers in their lives.People like Rachel.I can’t even imagine what that does to a person.
I can’t hold out anymore.I’m texting her.
Me: You get in okay?I got in trouble for not texting my mom when I landed.I didn’t sleep on the flight back, so I passed out on the bus.One of the trainers had to drive me home.
I wait.Nothing.
Me: Please tell me you’re okay.
