Nadine’s smile widens. ‘Do you like the coaching gig? Do you … miss playing professionally?’
I hesitate to answer. I haven’t really asked myself either of those questions.DoI like coaching? I think so, but I still second-guess myself, still question what I’m teaching the team half the time. I still feel a little bit like an imposter who just walked onto a football pitch – not unlike how I felt the first time I played a match for the Vikings.
‘I like coaching,’ I say finally. ‘I mean, I learned so much while I was playing in America, and it’s nice to be able to do something with all that knowledge.’ I chew on my lip, not wanting to answer the second part of her question, even though Nadine is looking at me expectantly. Because if I answer honestly, then I know the question that comes next, and it’s not one I want to answer. ‘Playing professionally was nice. It was … kind of a dream come true, but …’ I pause, shrugging my shoulders. ‘It’s behind me now.’
Nadine studies me for a moment, and I inwardly wince, awaiting the dreaded questions about why I quit my dream job, about the things that the newspapers have been saying about me. But she doesn’t. Instead, she picks up the menu and says, ‘Should we order then? The fish here is really good, by the way.’
I let out a breath, feeling my shoulders relax a little. ‘Yeah, let’s order.’
It’s strange how quickly Nadine and I manage to slip back into conversation after we’ve ordered. It almost feels like no time has passed at all – that there was never a hiccup in our friendship for nine years. Nadine tells me about the professors at her university, and the other nursing students. She tells me about the things that she likes about it, and the things that she doesn’t. She fills me in on what her family have been up to, and some of the old friends from school that she still keeps in touch with. Gwen, apparently, met a guy in Paris and decided to move there and get married. Now she works as a teacher there and is a fluent French speaker despite failing French GCSE in school.
Meanwhile, I tell Nadine about my old teammates, living in America, travelling around with the team to play matches. I leave out the bad stuff, only because I don’t want to think about it, and I don’t want to invite questions. Still, it feels nice to talk about it. It reminds me that my time on the team wasn’t all bad.
By the time Nadine and I are finished with our lunch and finally ask for the bill, hours have passed by. Outside, the sun is on its way down, and it’s shocking that the waiters haven’t kicked us out.
Nadine and I stand up and make our way outside together.
‘So, where are you living these days?’ I ask. Back when we were in school, Nadine’s house was only a fifteen-minute walk from mine. We spent a lot of time at each other’s places, and our parents were probably sick of it.
‘I have an apartment in West London,’ Nadine says. ‘It’s near the university, and I share it with a couple of other nursing students. It’s pretty intense; we pretty much spend all of our time studying.’
‘I’m back in my parents’ place,’ I say.
‘My parents are still in the old house. Maybe I can come around to see you next time I visit them,’ Nadine says.
‘Yeah, that would be nice.’ I smile. I’ve been nervous that seeing Nadine again would feel strange. Unlike Zul, Nadine and I werereallyfriends. We shared everything with each other. I was worried that reconnecting with her now would do away with our past somehow. That it would feel like meeting a stranger who you have vague memories of. But it hasn’t felt like that – it feels like old times and I’m glad that I did it.
I pull Nadine into a hug as a form of goodbye, but just as the two of us are about to go our separate ways, Nadine calls me back.
‘You know, if you ever wanted to talk about stuff, I would listen,’ she says. Her voice is sincere, but it surprises me that after our casual conversation she says this at all. When I look at her questioningly, she sighs and adds, ‘I could tell that you were holding stuff back, about your time in America. Which is fine, it’s not like everything in life has been rosy for me in the last couple of years either.’ I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. It’s been so many years since Nadine and I last saw each other – of course she’s had struggles too.
‘Thanks. Maybe next time we meet we could talk about the not-so-rosy stuff,’ I say.
Nadine smiles as she waves goodbye.
As I walk to the tube station, I wonder about telling Nadine. I imagine filling her in on everything that’s happened, telling her the reason why I quit the team. I’m sure she would listen with rapt attention, that she would give me a sympathetic smile or hug. But she wouldn’t really understand. There’s only one person who would get it, and she’s the one person that I can’t talk to. She’s the one person who doesn’t want anything to do with me.
My phone buzzes with a notification and I slip it out of my pocket to see a new email from Isabel. Frowning, I click onto it. I’m not sure why Isabel would email me, when we usually just talk on the phone.
Subject: Fundraiser Info
Nina is so excited that you agreed to speak! The fundraiser is on the 14th (I know that’s soon, but I’m guessing you’ve already been preparing the speech), and Nina says you can speak as little or as much as you want! It’s really just about sharing your experiences so that the attendees can see the importance of women’s football, supporting youth clubs for girls, etc. Location of the hotel attached! Nina is so excited to see you again!!
My stomach sinks more and more with every word. What the hell have I signed up for? I vaguely remember a call with Isabel where she mentioned Nina, but I was too preoccupied with coaching to hear exactly what she said. I have half a mind to email Isabel back and say absolutely no way in hell am I going to be doing this. But I can feel the enthusiasm inher email, and it will be nice to see Nina again.
Maybe it won’t be the worst thing in the world, going to this fundraiser.
Taking a deep breath, I click on the attachment.
Chapter 18
Maya
Thirteen days to the match
I stare at my phone screen, the words that I’ve written for today staring up at me. They feel disingenuous – like I’ve written out a bunch of lies to parrot.
Now that I’m sitting on the tube going into central London, to a big, fancy hotel, wearing a dress that clings to me a little too tightly, I’m reconsidering everything.
