It's Ophelia's turn to spit out her drink. A horrified look crosses her face as she hastily cleans off her phone.
"Good, now we're even."
"That was not at all what I was expecting. And this comes from a woman who discovered an exposed member at her dinner table tonight. I didn't even spit my wine out then. But go on." She waves her hand, urging me to continue.
"I guess that's not the proper start, anyway. The proper start is that I'm being benched on the Baltimore Terrors. They're looking to terminate my contract. And if I don't play, and then get cut eventually, it doesn't bode well for another team picking me up."
She nods. "Following that, but not the married thing."
"Hold on a minute. I'm getting to that. Because I'm an international player, I'm not eligible for trade until after the season starts in March. My former coach is up in Boston, and the Buzzards organization wants me. They'll trade for me. But they need me before the season starts."
"Why can't you be traded before then?"
"The USSL wants to cultivate American talent to make them more competitive on the world stage. Therefore, they're limiting the number of foreign players on any one team and limiting the trade possibilities to make American players more desirable."
"Okay, I guess. I mean, it seems discriminatory but whatever."
"The Global Games are the biggest football tourney in the world. The US Men's National Team hasn't even qualified for the past two sets. It's embarrassing for the US, really. So they've spent the last three years really building up their internal programs."
"So it's like the Olympics for soccer?"
"Exactly. In order to be traded to Boston now, the only way for me to do it is to become an American citizen."
"Okay. I mean, I'm sure it's a pain and there's a lot of paperwork, but it seems like a simple solution."
I frown.
"What'd I say that's wrong?" she asks. "I can tell from your face I said something wrong."
"I don't want to become American. I mean, no offense."
"None taken?" Her voice rises to a question. "Why not though?"
I shrug. "I'm a Brit. It breaks my heart that I can't play on my own soil, but that's a story for another day. And to have to renounce my homeland and my family, well, it's got me gutted."
"Well, why don't you go and play for England then? No one is forcing you to stay here."
Her words, though innocuous in intention, cut through me like a sharp knife. "That's not an option. So, I become an American, or my career is over."
She watches me thoughtfully for a moment. Finally, she takes a long sip from her wine glass. "But if your career is done, then you can't help your family out."
"Right." I can't believe she goes right to this. Most people would talk about losing the fame and fortune and glory. That's not what it's about for me. I love the game, and I love my family. I take my own drink. If she's going to get pissed, I might as well too. "Plus, I can't imagine my life without football. It's all I've ever wanted to do from the time I was a schoolboy."
"Okay, I think I'm following, except for the marriage thing."
"I've only been here and had my green card for four years. In order to apply for naturalization, you have to have been here five. Unless …" I take another long sip. And then one more for good measure. "My spouse is a citizen, and then you only have to be here for three years."
The pieces click together for her. "So if you get married to an American, you can become a citizen sooner."
I nod. I'm glad we're on FaceTime, so I can see her reaction. I haven't talked about this with anyone in person, so it's nice to get someone else's take. "The only thing is, I don't have a fiancée. I don't even have a girlfriend. I'm not sure I even have a friend who's a girl. No matter how you slice it, getting married seems as impossible as walking on the moon."
Ophelia lifts her glass in a toasting motion. "You and me both, brother. Now you understand my position."
I salute her with my glass and finish it off. Yes, tonight is definitely a night for getting pissed. At least with Facetiming Ophelia, I don't have to say I'm drinking alone.
I stand up and get another beer. I see Ophelia refill her wine glass. Yes, this is good. We'll get sloshed together.
"It should be easy for you to find someone. You're totally hot." Ophelia says and then lets out a little giggle. Perhaps it's not going to take her as long to get tipsy as I thought.
