The hurt catches me as soon as the plane starts to taxi down the runway. If I opened my mouth right now, I don’t know if I could form words. My throat is tight and it feels like there’s sand in my mouth… like you can’t swallow past it. Quietly, I try to catch my breath. I look over and see that Zack is wearing an eye mask and is trying to sleep.
Breathe in.
Her dad called.
Breathe out.
Why didn’t she tell me?
Breathe in.
What now?
Breathe out.
Who knows.
Eighteen
Blair
SeeingTysonatpracticeis what’s keeping me going on limited amounts of caffeine this morning. I’m at Embers and Ashes, trying to wrap up a ridiculous amount of work before being off for a few days. Thanksgiving isn’t until next week, but we’re celebrating with Tyson’s family early since the Cosmos have a Thanksgiving Day game next week.
I have a Thanksgiving Day game. Wow.
My brothers have shelled out some serious cash for tickets. Even though I would’ve paid for them, considering I fell into a bucket of money—at least for my standards—but they insisted.
I still think it’s wild that NFL players don’t get a ticket allotment for games. Yes, the staff will help them secure whatever they need, but everyone pays for them. Makes me wonder what Tyson paid for my birthday tickets. I shimmy my shoulders, shaking off the flush to my skin, and try to stay focused.
My to-do list is still too long, even though I got here at four in the morning, trying to catch up because of the away game trip this past weekend. There are so many things I want to oversee and take the lead on, but that makes it almost impossible. I know this isn’t how successful businesses run, but it’s like if I let up, even a little, the thing I’ve built will crumble down.
There’s not a crack in the foundation, especially now—since I’ve joined the Cosmos, our membership have maxed out and we’ve sold out of everynew piece of merch we’ve added to the shelves. I’ve hired more instructors and front office staff and still am more profitable than I’ve ever been.
I’ve been around the least I’ve ever managed since starting it—that part makes me feel a little sad. I know it’s a testament to its success, but it’s my favorite place to be, and since joining the Cosmos, I’ve spent very little time here.
Honestly? I think it’s time to consider opening a second Embers and Ashes location. That’s one of the reasons I’ve been holding onto the cash I got from the Cosmos. The goal wasn’t to create an empire or anything like that, but I did want to offer up as many safe spaces for people as possible. My eyes water at the possibility.
I need to go back to therapy. The thought that I can’t be all the way happy about my success is a massive red flag. There were nights I dreamt of getting the gym to this place, the one it’s in right now, and I’m still not satisfied. Pair that with the unresolved trauma of parent abandonment and my body dysmorphia that’s bubbled back up and I’m a therapist's dream!
Grabbing my phone, I set a reminder to call my therapist and make an appointment. I internally screech to myself when I see the time, needing toget to practice.
Today’spracticewasonefor the books. I made five field goals, consecutively, ranging from five to eight yards further than an extra point. Each time the ball went through the uprights, every single person in the room was on another level—jumping up and down and cheering me on like I hit a game winner.
We’re in the film room as the team discusses adjustments for the Thanksgiving game matchup, and I’m trying to find Tyson. Since we don’t practice with the same groups, it’s common that we do a bit of searching to find each other. But when the lights go down, and come back up after an hour of film, I still can’t find him.
I decide to check with Coach Dylan—maybe he needed extra treatment or something—I know he tweaked his ankle during the game on Sunday. Down the corridor I walk to Coach’s office, seeing the photos from all the key Cosmos moments thus far. Considering the Upstate Cosmos were an NFL expansion team and have only been in the league a few years, it’s impressive to see what they’ve accomplished. Many NFL teams have never won a Super Bowl, but here are the Cosmos with two checks already in that column.
When I approach Coach’s door, I hear the sounds of someone borderline yelling. I stop and wonder if I should turn around—I don’t have an appointment or anything. Just when I’m about to pivot and head home, it’s clear they’re talking about me. Orsomeoneis talking about me.
“This little PR stunt has run its course, don’t you think? Women don’t play in the NFL,” the voice says; it’s familiar but I don’t know who it belongs to.
Coach Dylan’s voice interrupts. “What is your issue? She has nothing to do with your client.” His voice is barely raised but it’s enough to raise my eyebrows.
“She’s occupying my client’s roster spot. I just need to know you’re going to come when Benny is ready and there isn’t going to be a murmur of keeping her on the roster.”
I can’t roll my eyes hard enough listening to Benny’s slimy agent talk to Dylan about me. Part of me knows this isn’t something meant for me to hear, but the other part of me is glued in place—there’s absolutely no way I’m leaving.
Dylan says nothing; it feels like the office is frozen in time. Fuck, what if Oscar storms out and sees me? The rational part of my brain says,Well, that’s on him and he shouldn’t be talking shit like this with the door open.
