“Thanks again for agreeing to help us. It means the world.” He glanced over at his sister. “Sorry about her.”
“Hey man, don’t apologize. She has every right to be pissed off. I shouldn’t have shown up unexpectedly. The breakup was rough on me too. I never meant to disrespect her or your family.”
“No worries, bro. I understand. You were young.”
He looked over at Alma, who was writing something in a notebook. “She’s staying around? I thought once she saw me, she’d bail.”
“Yeah, I told her that one of the organizers was coming over to discuss the event. He’s late, so she will be here for at least a little bit, but then she will hightail it out of here. She’s so pissed at me for keeping her in the dark, but she does understand it’s for the community. It’s all good.”
“I’m glad.” Jaime stared at the field. His heart constricted. All of the years he spent playing soccer had consumed him and he hardly ever did anymore. He really missed it. “So, you still up for that soccer game?”
Carlos smirked. “If you can handle getting beaten.”
“By you? Never.”
“All that posing on Instagram wouldn’t have improved your footwork.”
Jaime smirked. “We’ll see.”
Carlos grinned. “I’ll round up the others.” Carlos ran to the end of the field where there were some other men playing. Most of them were pretty good, probably other coaches.
Or maybe just men in the community who had immense talent but never had the opportunity to play anywhere other than Pickleweed Park.
Even if Alma never spoke to him again and the Cinco festival was the last time he ever saw her, he would never regret helping fundraise for the Canal.
Jaime looked over at Alma. Her nose was in a book, and she wasn’t paying any attention to him.
Hmm. He grinned. He had a plan to pique her interest.
Jaime peeled off his shirt and tossed it in the car.
Santi burst out laughing. “Are you serious? You think your abs will get Alma to talk to you?”
“Yup. I’m desperate. I’ll use what I have.”
“You’re too much.”
Jaime and Santi ran toward Carlos to join the team. Jaime stared right at Alma as he passed her bench. Her jaw dropped when she saw him, and Jaime winked for good measure. Alma rolled her eyes, playfully flipped him off, and went back to reading her book.
Alrighty then.
Time to play ball. Jaime always performed better when he had an audience.
Jaime ran toward the goal, dribbling the ball. Carlos was an incredible soccer player. He kicked it to Santi, who advanced the ball farther. Santi passed it back to Jaime, who spiked it in.
Score!
He glanced over to see if Alma was watching. Her eyes would scan the field every few minutes, but her attention remained focused on her book. Jaime closed his eyes and remembered how she showed up for all his soccer games and used to be his biggest cheerleader.
She was silent now.
Even so, it almost felt like old times. Jaime playing ball with her brother was so natural. But today he definitely wouldn’t be invited over to her parents’ house for carne asada.
For the next hour, his team battled with Carlos’s, who came out the winner with a final score of four versus three. During the game, a man, who Jaime figured was probably one of the organizers, spoke to Alma on the bench for a while then left.
But Alma was still there, fanning her dog. That was a positive sign.
Sweat dripped off Jaime’s brow.
