‘To one of the servers?’ The woman narrows her eyes at me. Like she can’t possibly imagine what a server needed to have done in order to garner a thanks from me.
‘Yes. Her name was Dina Chowdhury, and I … knocked into her, but she was so great about it. I just wanted to—’
The woman holds up a hand to silence me, scanning her clipboard. She taps on it with her pen, before her eyes flick up to me once more. ‘Yes, I have a Dina here. She’s new. I’llmake sure to pass on your message. But I really can’t have you here. Everybody’s busy working.’
She steps forward and holds open the double doors, waving me out. I take one last look around the kitchen, hoping to spot Dina. But when I don’t, I’m forced to admit defeat.
I step outside and towards the other side of the events hall, spotting Dina’s familiar figure in the distance. She’s at the drinks table on the edge of the hall, collecting used glasses and throwing bottles into a rubbish bag. I feel a tug in my heart. What was it Dina said to me? That she had been hating every moment of her life, trying to make ends meet. That was about working in finance, but I doubt that working as a server is part of her dream life either. I remember when we were young and bright-eyed with hopes for the future. We traded these grand dreams of being star football players. When we went to the football museum in Madrid for our school trip, we even talked about how one day our football shirts would be displayed there, because that’s how successful we would be.
But it seems that neither of our dreams were meant to be.
‘Hey,’ I say hesitantly as I approach Dina.
She jumps a little, before turning towards me. She looks more surprised to see me now than she did when I ran into her.
‘What are you still doing here? I thought everybody had left.’
‘I was looking for you. I think I spoke to your boss, in the kitchen.’
Dina frowns, before turning back and throwing a bunch of bottles into the rubbish bag. I dive towards the other side of the table and begin collecting dirty glasses and bottles too.
‘You don’t have to do that,’ Dina says. Her voice is grim, and she doesn’t look at me. I can’t tell what she’s thinking. Whatever moment we had before, where I actually opened up to her, where she seemed like she still cared about me, seems to have passed swiftly.
Maybe that realisation should deter me from trying with Dina now, but I’m not sure if I can stop. It felt like there was still something between us earlier, and I’m not willing to give up on that so fast.
‘I just … wanted to say thank you.’
Dina pauses in her work and her eyes snap towards me. ‘For what?’
‘For helping me earlier. I would never have been able to go up to that podium and speak if it weren’t for you. I probably would have just had my panic attack and cried in the bathroom and gone home. And Nina would have been down a speaker, and I would have felt … well, humiliated.’
‘You would have figured it out, even without me.’
I shake my head. ‘No. I don’t think I would have. I needed someone to say the things that you did. I needed … you. You were the only one who could push me in that way. The only one who understood me about so many things.’
Dina seems to study me, her eyes roving over me as if she’s looking for something, but I don’t know what it is. ‘I didn’t know things were so difficult for you,’ she finally says. ‘I’m sorry that you’ve had to deal with so much.’
‘Yeah, it’s been … It hasn’t been easy.’
Dina sighs. ‘I thought you were living some dream life, that you were about to announce that you’d be playing at the next World Cup or something.’ Dina almost seems shame-faced as she admits it, but I feel a smile tug at me. While others in the football world overlooked me, Dina always sawsomething in me. Even if it was tainted with envy.
‘I wish.’ I toss some empty bottles into the bag. They land with a loud clink.
‘Maybe now that people are finally hearing your side of the story, things will change,’ Dina says.
‘Maybe. I wouldn’t hold my breath.’
I reach for some of the empty glasses scattered around the table at the same time that Dina does. I freeze as our fingers brush, and fresh goosebumps erupt across my skin. Our eyes lock for just a moment, across the table. The dark brown of her irises pulling me in. My cheeks flush.
Then, all too soon, Dina looks away. I pull my hand aside and watch as Dina ducks her head, gathering the glasses and lining them up on a tray to take back to the kitchen.
‘Thanks,’ Dina mumbles, her voice soft. ‘You didn’t have to help me with this.’
‘I wanted to. I can help with the other—’
Dina cuts me off with a shake of her head. ‘Jana would probably kill me if she saw a guest helping me clean up, and I kind of need this job. The assistant coach position is only part-time, and this job pays better than the other catering gigs I’ve been doing.’
This is the most Dina has given me since I came back, and there’s a part of me that’s bursting with questions to ask her. About her job in finance that she must have quit, her other catering jobs, about what her life has been like for the past nine years. The curiosity of it all gnaws at me, but I simply nod.
