Surely we're not engaged.
No, of course, we're not.
He's reasonable. I'm sometimes reasonable. Marrying a stranger is not reasonable. So once he gets here, we'll talk it out, and then I'll make sure he knows this was all the product of too many assholes, too much wine, and too many romance novels. I'm willing to give up two of the three.
Okay, I'm really only willing to give up the assholes, but there's never a need for me to drink that much again. At least not any time soon.
I can breathe again. Yes, he's not expecting me to marry him. No way would he. Time to finish in here. Three disinfectant wipes later, the bathroom is in decent shape.
Now onto me.
My hair is half-damp, but the idea of blow drying it and straightening it just seems like too much. I opt for two French braids and pull on my thickest high-waisted leggings, hoping to make my lower end seem fit and toned even though running through various romantic scenarios in my brain is as active as I get. I don a crop top sweatshirt, which barely shows any skin on me because of my height, and I'm good to go.
Well, after I add hoop earrings and some makeup because I'm three shades paler than printer paper. A hangover does nothing for my complexion.
As I finish my makeup I stop and look at myself. What am I doing? Am I just going to let this random guy in my apartment? I don't know him at all.
Me: MARLEY….
But also me … should I go meet him at South Station? It's kind of a hike down there. I've got to take the C line all the way into Park Street and then change to the red line. We're talking a good forty-five minutes, at least, so if I'm going to go, I should go.
I mean, he is on a seven-hour ride up here to see me. I wish I could remember all of the night. Like what happened after I asked him to marry me. Oh God, what if I flashed him my hoo-ha, and he's coming all this way for sex?
What if he thinks because I showed him my lady cat that I expect him to make a purchase at the pet store?
What is wrong with me?
Please don't let me have gotten naked on FaceTime.
These are things I never thought I'd pray for as a child, but I'm sure there's a patron saint for keeping your clothes on while on a video chat. Whatever that saint is, I bet they've been working overtime since COVID started.
I should go meet Xavier. That way if I get a sketchy vibe or whatever, I can take him to a hotel rather than have him here. It's definitely safer to meet up with him in a public place. I throw on my oversized coat and head for the T-stop.
I text Xavier to let him know I'll meet him in front of the Dunkin' Donuts. Then I send one last text to Marley.
Me: So apparently, I'm engaged. I don't remember all of it, but I'm on my way to meet him now. Hope you don't see me on an episode of Discovery ID. If Dateline interviews you, please talk about how much everyone loved me, and don't let them use a bad picture. I don't want to be known as a loser who talked more to her cat than to other people.
Serves her right.
Chapter 18: Xavier
She's coming to meet me. That's bloody great. Despite having played in cities all over Britain and the US, I'm still not super comfortable with public transit. I'd much prefer to be in a car driving.
Fewer people, more freedom.
Plus, I'm not a big fan of being underground. I think it's because I got lost on the Tube that one time. My parents freaked out and Philip was visibly annoyed that I'd ruined the day, but it's not like I got separated from them on purpose.
Although, after seven hours on this train, I'm not sure I smell very good. As soon as I step off, I head toward the nearest loo to brush my teeth and add another coat of deodorant.
Not because I have expectations of anything. Other than her proposing, it was quite the platonic conversation. It was rather enjoyable, really. Actually, it was the best time I've had in a while. With the exception of family and friends from before my career began, not that there are many of those, people usually put on a show for me. With Ophelia, there was no show. Simply a lot of telling, not to mention laughter. Then it became apparent she was quite sloshed. I was half in the bag myself, so I'm in no place to judge.
Enjoyable times and laughter aside, it's not the purpose of my trip. With amazing speed that makes me question what exactly goes on with Tony's agency, he emailed me a rough draft of a contract. I really don't care to know how Tony drafted an entire business contract for a marriage deal in a matter of hours. Thinking about that makes my stomach churn.
Perhaps I should take some comfort in knowing that as professional athletes, we're expected to make all sorts of sacrifices for our careers. I never expected to have to marry a total stranger just to be able to set foot upon the pitch again.
At least I've talked to her a bit. It's not quite as bad as posting an ad on Craigslist or having ClikClak set me up.
Maybe I'll have Tony put in a line about how I'm not allowed to whip it out in public if only so she's reassured that she won't have a repeat of last night.
