Page 28 of Playing By Ear

They queued up to leave the dressing room for the pitch, each player resting a hand on the shoulder of the one proceeding him, with their sighted goalkeeper, Alex, at the head. Then both teams walked onto the pitch to applause and cheering from what sounded a decent crowd for a Tuesday night. Perry’s parents often came to his matches, but they were both working, which was just as well, considering his mediocre performance thus far this season.

Glasgow greeted their opponents with the usual line of handshakes. Dundee were their toughest competition and sat at the top of the four-team blind league table, but they were no doubt fatigued from the previous weekend’s trip abroad for an international qualifier.

“Right, lads, gather round,” called Graeme Holmes, the Glasgow coach. “Gonnae be a strange night, playing indoors. The echoes will be disorientating. So to avoid fouls and injuries, let’s slow our pace at the beginning until we’re all used to it.”

They did a fifteen-minute warmup, then Perry went to Glasgow Blind’s bench area behind the kickboard with the other four substitutes. As the players set up for kickoff, the place fell quiet as an empty church. Then the whistle blew.

At first it sounded like chaos—between the jingling ball, shouts of “Voy!” from the players, and instructions from the coaches and goalkeeper—but soon the game took shape in Perry’s mind. He kept his entire focus on the sounds, hoping to maintain the images until he was subbed in.

It was, perhaps, his only way to forget Jamie.

Perry’s match had already started when Jamie tiptoed back into the venue with shower-damp hair and a gut full of hope.

He sat at the end of the third row, which, like the other two rows, held a handful of silent spectators, a few with guide dogs. A thirty-something woman with wavy blond hair turned and gave him a bright smile, which he returned.

The pitch where the Warriors had trained less than an hour before had been transformed. In the place of Heather’s goal—the one Jamie had embarrassed himself in front of—was a smaller one, maybe ten feet across and six feet high. Running lengthways along the two touchlines were three-foot-high kickboards, tilted slightly outward. The venue echoed with the shouts of players and coaches, while the ball jangled like a backing track of tambourines.

Once he’d figured out that the Glasgow team were in sky-blue kits with black trim, with Dundee in black-and-white stripes, he scanned the pitch for Perry. But the players’ dark masks obscured their faces from the nose up.

Maybe Perry wasn’t even here tonight, and maybe that would be best. Even if Perry gave him a second chance, how long before the MacKrays’ toxicity poisoned them both?

But Charlotte was right. Jamie needed someone to trust. He couldn’t tell Perry every fact about his family, but he would implode if he didn’t share these two new facts: 1) Dad was dying, and 2) Jamie felt more hollow and lost than he ever could have predicted.

A wad of paper hit his chest. The blonde woman was facing him again, muzzling a mischievous grin.

He uncrumpled the note:

Who are you here to see?

Jamie pulled out his phone, opened a notes app and wrote PERRY HULL in a large font.

Her eyes lit up, and she beckoned him to sit beside her. When he got there, she was scribbling on a small notepad.

That’s my husband Brian’s best mate!!

She’d turned the exclamation marks’ bottom points into the eyes of a smiley face. Jamie gave her a grin and a thumbs-up.

There was no turning back now. Meeting the best mate’s partner was as inner-circle as it got. If Jamie left, Perry would find out and be hurt all over again.

She flipped the page and kept writing.

I’m Sarah and this is Dodger. He’s not working just now so when he wakes up you can stroke him if you like.

The black Lab snoozed on his side at her feet, forepaws twitching. He wore only a lead, while his undone harness lay on the seat to Sarah’s left.

Jamie typed his own name in the notes app and shook her hand.

1st time seeing blind fb? she wrote next.

He nodded, then searched for Perry again. He was taller than average, right? Jamie was five-ten, and he’d barely had to lift his chin to kiss him that first time.

That first time, as they’d stood in Perry’s kitchen. If Belinda hadn’t phoned, they might’ve shed their clothes and⁠—

Sarah tapped his elbow and pointed to the area behind the kickboard where several players stood with the coach. Then she held up four fingers.

The man in the blue number four jersey was jogging in place, nodding as the coach spoke to him.

Something twanged in Jamie’s chest like a broken B string. Of course that was Perry. His own body’s reaction was all the proof he needed.