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Pressing down on my eyebrow, I kept going. “I should have told you before but I didn’t want to. It took me long enough to talk to you, and by the time I could do it like a normal person and not like a fan-girl, I didn’t want to. I didn’t want you to look at me differently. Idon’twant you to. I’m sorry. It was a long time ago and I’d been just a kid back then.”
There was silence. Total silence.
And I thought to myself,this is over.Our friendship was done. Any hope I had of… well, that was done with too. But what could I do? Nothing. I couldn’t take it back. When I was a kid, I had no idea I’d ever meet Reiner Kulti, much less become friends with him. I definitely had no idea that I would ever fall in love with the human version of him, the real man. Unfortunately, you can’t turn back time and change the past.
Then again, would I want to? I’d gotten to where I was because I’d idolized him, because I had wanted to be him. What the hell else would I be doing if it hadn’t been for him and that damn Altus Cup when I was seven?
Goosebumps rose up on my arms as I sat straight and lunged for my shirt again, pulling it on as the German shifted in his seat right next to me.
I had just tugged it down over my stomach when he shoved his cell phone into my hand with a single order. “Look.”
Big Girl Socks on, I cast a single glance at his face but he had that same blank expression, the cool one. I looked down at what he was showing me on the screen. It was a picture of something.
“Take a closer look.”
I took the phone from him and brought it up to my face, enlarging the image to see what he wanted to show me. It was a picture of a picture. Well, of a drawing to be exact. It was an orange sheet of construction paper with big, black words written in a little kid’s handwriting.
Wait a second.
I looked even closer, blowing up the image more.
It was the little kid version of my handwriting.
Dear Mr. Kulti,
You are my favorite player. I play soccer 2 butt I’m not good like you are. Not yet. I practice all the time so 1 day I can be just like you or beter. I watch all of ur games so don’t mess up.
Ur #1 fan,
Sal
<3 <3 <3
P.S. Do u have a girl friend?
P.P.S. Why don’t u cut ur hair?
“I was nineteen when that showed up to the club’s offices. It was my third fan letter ever and the other two were topless pictures,” he said in his low, steady voice. “That letter stayed in every locker I used for the next ten years. It was the first thing I looked at before my games, and the first thing I saw after I played. I framed it and put it in my house in Meissen once it started to wear out. It’s still there on the wall of my bedroom.”
Oh my God.
“You didn’t put a return address on the envelope, you know. It only had your street’s name and Texas on it. I was never able to write you back because it wouldn’t have made it, but I would have, Sal,” he said.
Looking at the picture reminded me so clearly of writing it, so many years ago.
He had kept it.
“I still have the three others you sent me.”
If I was someone who swooned, or whatever kind of crap happened to people when they were in shock, I would have been doing it. This was… there was no word for what this was. “Did you know it was me when you took the position here?” I asked, still looking at the picture.
“No. I didn’t realize it until you introduced yourself in Gardner’s office. I couldn’t believe it. I knew your last name from the videos of your playing but I didn’t know your first name,” he explained. “I only remembered your first name from your letters.”
Good grief.
“So you’ve always known?” My voice cracked a little at the last word.
“Did I know you’d been my number one fan once?” he asked, nudging my rib enough so that I looked up at him. A gentle look replaced his harsh, usually brooding features. “Yes, I knew. If I would have paid attention the first day of practice, I would have figured it out sooner. And then you cussed me out—“
