Page 22

Chapter 22

Emilie

When We Play is hosting an event for city kids and that means I’m spending my Friday night watching professional athletes run around like they’re kids. This event was my idea, and I’m thankful the Cosmos let us alter their practice schedule and steal facility time during the season. It’s after school on a Friday, so that means they just shifted practice to end earlier.

The point is to do a little press for When We Play and the Cosmos, while kids get instruction on specific football positions. Obviously, we have Tripp and a few wide receivers, Ben Gambill showing how to drop back and throw a pass as a quarterback, and then Zack, with all things long snapper.

It might be a weird mix of players and positions, but it’s who we could get to bite on a Friday night volunteer opportunity.

Once the kids check in, they get their own Cosmos jersey, and it’s making my heart hurt how cute they are. Boys and girls, aged eight to twelve, run around showing off their new team wear. There’s even an option to wear eye black like the team does during real games.

I’ve never really thought about having kids. After high school, it was college, and my path was unconventional. My parents offered to pay for my tuition, but I didn’t take it. I didn’t want the experience to be tainted, or held above my head in any way, shape, or form. Plus, since I wasn’t going to law school, I knew I was already on the wrong foot .

Instead, I worked my ass off—in school to get great grades and out of school to scrape together every penny I could. I learned how to get by with three hours of sleep. Obviously, that didn’t leave much room for partying or hanging out. I tried to get to every sporting event I could, but that was the extent of my consistent social life.

College took me longer than most, but I graduated with minimal debt and honors, and I’m proud I did it that way. I heard from a friend of a friend about an assistant opening, which turned out to be for Willow, and things have never been the same.

Now, I watch a girl, probably ten years old, learn how to properly hold a football that is almost as big as her. She laughs as she runs, zigzagging through the course, and some Cosmos players fail to catch her.

My ovaries. They hurt. Bad.

This lightheaded feeling washes over me, and I put my hand on my chest to feel my heartbeat. It consistently thuds, no spaces or anything out of sorts. I suck in a deep breath, letting the air stretch my lungs.

I recognize the feeling, the uncomfortableness of it all, because I’ve not considered this life-altering topic: a family. Now, I always envisioned myself with a partner I’d grow old with—whether we got married or not would depend on them. I’m not someone who has to get married.

Honestly, all I want is someone who can love and support me.

I find myself wondering if there should be kids in that same vision. Oof. Sweat beads on the bridge of my nose. This isn’t where I thought I’d be, mentally, while working this non-profit event. Luckily, I did most of the set up and now I’m responsible for getting candid pictures of the athletes.

Last but not least is Zack’s section. Currently, he’s showing a group of kids the correct stance prior to snapping the football. He’s turned it into a game—whoever stays up the longest wins. He runs around, in between the kids, and he’s making them laugh with impressions and just casual Zack shenanigans.

He goes as far to take a pom from the dance team and is shaking it near their ears, trying to get them to fall from the tickle. That certainly seems like it should be against the rules.

Next, he’s showing how to block when it comes to punt returns. He acts like the offensive player, whoever is returning the kick, and the kid’s fake block him but he acts like the human version of a pinball.

Zack’s eyes catch mine, all alive and bright, clearly in his element. He fits so effortlessly in every situation I’ve seen him in. Doesn’t matter if it’s a bunch of ten-year-olds, a press conference, the general public, or a lackluster dinner with my family. My hand immediately goes to my heart, to feel my heartbeat, and this time it’s racing.

“Hey! Earth to EJ.” Zack is clapping and waving his hands, bringing me back to the moment. He’s always seeming to turn up when I need him.

“Sorry, what’s up?”

“Nothing, you just looked like you were on another planet, a really sad one. You good?”

No. I wouldn’t use the word good to describe myself. My anxiety has been rough the last few days. Intrusive thoughts pinched my brain last night, and again this morning, and I’m mentally exhausted.

“All good,” I lie as I look at my watch. The event is about over; time to take the group photos.

“You still need a ride home, right?” Zack asks, placing a hand on my lower back just for the briefest of seconds as we walk toward the group of kids being wrangled for the photo. Those hands. His fingers. I wish his hands were all over me and we weren’t at a children’s event.

I nod, my head feeling like it’s full of thick clouds, because I have no idea what my voice would sound like at this moment.

“Good thing the stadium had the roof on today,” Zack says as we exit the stadium.

Buckets of rain drop from the sky, gray and ominous. We drive slowly in the parking lot as it fills with the water that’s coming down too fast.

The thing about the Upstate Cosmos is they’re not really Upstate—the stadium is located just outside the city, far enough to have the room but close enough to still deal with the horrific New York City traffic.

My phone vibrates with a notification: severe thunderstorm warning. We’re about to turn out onto the road when I show it to Zack.

“You good with driving slow, trying to get back to your apartment?” he asks, putting the car in park, giving me time.

The alternative is to post up at the stadium, and that doesn’t sound appealing. “Yes, let’s try to get back.”

We drive painfully slow, and I keep my eyes on the radar. There’s not any lightning or thunder yet, just heavy rain. There are some parts of the interstate with standing water; cars driving too fast don’t see it until it’s too late—we’ve seen a handful of them hydroplane.

My heart races, and my body’s tired. I’m not typically concerned about weather, since New York doesn’t get anything too severe: no hurricanes, earthquakes, and a tornado would be extremely rare. But given the last few days, and lack of sleep, my nerves are shot. I crave my apartment, my bed, my own space.

The thoughts, which I have no energy to shove down, are getting louder. What if you drove into oncoming traffic? What if that car side swipes us? Is my car door locked? Is my seatbelt really buckled ?

Zack slams on the breaks, putting his arm out in front of my chest, as a car spins out in front of us. If he hadn’t been driving with enough space between the car in front of us, we’d probably have hit them.

“If these people would slow the fuck down.” he says, his chest rising and falling with nervous breath. “You okay?” He looks over, and I nod.

My phone, which I'm holding too tight, vibrates. When I turn it over, I thought I'd see another weather alert. Instead, it’s a barrage of social media notifications. I open the app and my stomach drops.

Zack Andersen NSFW Video Leaked.

The post shows a still of Zack, completely nude, parts of him censored, with a blonde draped over him. They’re clearly both naked and it’s not hard to guess what they were doing. Without thinking, I scroll the comments: ‘what about @ehayestrueblue,’ ‘omg so much better than @ehayestrueblue,’ ‘thought he was a good one – poor emilie.’ It’s everyone commenting and mentioning my handle which has my phone blowing up.

I can’t do this. Any of this. The weather. This thing with Zack; I’ll just call it off and go to the wedding alone. I'm too rundown to pretend anymore. Pretend that this doesn’t hurt.

Since I love to torture myself, I click on the short clip. It's Zack, naked, and a woman naked around his waist. They laugh as he walks her toward the wall. When they’re kissing, hands all over each other, I turn my phone over and cross my arms against my chest.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Zack offers, looking over at me, sensing my mood change.

“How much longer?” I ask, not wanting to get into this right now.

“I’m guessing fifteen minutes.” He focuses on the road.

I turn and act like I'm fixated on what’s outside my window. I can’t see much but dark gray and water. I focus on the raindrops falling on the window until we get to my apartment.