“You’re retiring?” I joke, trying to lighten the mood.
“I spoke with Don Neeley last week. He heads the athletics department and manages the budget.”
“I’m sure that was a riveting meeting.”
“They’re trying to hire a new football coach to revamp the team, which means our budget is taking a hit.” Coach shakes his head.
“I see.” My chest feels both deflated and tight at the same time.
“But Don said he could probably figure something out if we wanted to hire someone else.”
My chest reinflates. “That’s good.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose. “I told him we wouldn’t need the extra money.”
“Oh.” My mouth goes dry, and I feel my heart sink to my stomach. He doesn’t need the extra money because he won’t be extending my contract.Fuck.Coach Jameson was one of the last people who still believed in me after I got injured. One of the last people to give me another chance. And I blew it. “Can I ask why?”
“You tried very hard Mason. I could see that.” His words are meant to comfort me, but they fall flat.
Coach hesitates like he doesn’t want to hurt me.
“Go ahead and say it, Coach. I can handle it.”
“You have an eye for the game, there’s no denying it. I’m just not sure if I can trust your judgment as a coach. You’ve had a few good suggestions, ones that have helped make a difference, but every time I give you the opportunity to take the lead andreallybe a coach you deflect the responsibility back to me. You rely on me too much to make decisions, and I need a partner who is independent. I already know that I can do this job, but the question is canyou?”
Honestly, I wasn’t sure. I wanted to believe that I could be just as good of a coach as I was a player, but everything he said was true. I don’t even think I can look him in the eye. I thought I felt passionate about coaching, like it had replaced the emptiness my retirement left me with, but maybe I was just lying to myself. Maybe I didn’t want it bad enough and that’s what Coach was seeing. Or maybe it was all the moments I second guessed myself. Despite all my accomplishments with this team I haven’t been able to silence the voice in the back of my head that said,‘Who are you trying to fool into thinking you could be a coach? Everyone knows you’re a fraud. Nothing but a washed-up ex-hockey player.’
I had thought I’d been able to keep my insecurities hidden. Had hoped Coach didn’t catch all the moments where my hands started to shake after I called out a play, terrified that my decision was wrong. All the moments I held back from speaking my mind because I didn’t want to mess things up. But he had. Coach caught all my moments of self-doubt. And it made him realize I wasn’t cut out for this job.
I look down at my hands. ”I’m sorry, Coach.”
“I know you are, Mason.”
“I should probably get going.” My whole body feels numb as I stand up and head toward the door.
“Your contract doesn’t expire until the end of the season. I better see your ass at practice next week.”
“You got it.” I give him a small nod before leaving his office. I bolt straight to my car, needing to put as much distance between myself and this arena as possible. The drive home gives me time to replay Coach Jameson’s words in my head.
When I arrive home, I dial a number I haven’t used in years.
forty-two
. . .
Violet
In my twenty-sixyears I’ve learned one thing — the universe is all about balance. The low points in life are not permanent, and neither are the highs. Recently my life has been filled with highs. My heart felt whole anytime I was with Mason, which was often. We’d reached a lull in the semester, so I could redirect my attention to finishing one of the many outstanding manuscripts I’d been putting off. Life as a grad student didn’t get much better than this, which is why I knew my laptop was going to burst into flames or my kidney was going to stop working any minute now. My good luck had to run out.
And it did. This afternoon in my inbox. I’m staring blankly at a rejection from the fellowship I had poured my whole heart into.
Not my first rejection, and not my last, but this one stung a bit more. Maybe because I had felt stretched thin this year andwas hoping — reallydying— for a break. Or maybe because everyone had so much confidence in me, and for once I felt confidence in myself.
Even worse was getting the email rejection as I was headed to my weekly meeting with Bethany. Though she always managed to find a way to cheer me up, I felt like I had let her down after all she had done for me. Bethany gives me a tense smile as soon as I enter her office and gestures for me to shut the door. The only time we have closed-door meetings is when I have to vent or cry about something.
“So, I take it you heard about the rejection?”
“I did. I’m so sorry, Violet.” Her sorrowful expression likely matched the one on my face.
