Melanie's smile shifts into something softer, almost maternal. She pats my arm like she's confiding secrets. "Oh honey. Well, you're better off, then. And it's obviously his loss. Enzo's always been a bit of an asshole, hasn't he? I hope we'll see more of you now that you're free of him."
I force a smile even though my stomach twists. "Thank you. That's kind."
She nods, satisfied with herself, and glides out of the lounge. Her perfume lingers in her wake, sweet and cloying.
I grip the schedules so hard the edges curl.
Everyone here still remembers me as Enzo's wife. That's all I am to them. Not Scout Nash, kinesiology graduate. Not Scout Nash, a caring friend. Just Enzo's ex, still hanging around, making herself useful until someone tells her to leave.
Except maybe Juliet. Juliet saw me help Connor. She asked for a proposal. Maybe she sees something in me that I'd almost forgotten was there.
The rest of the day blurs together. I track down missing foam rollers for the equipment manager. Getting down to work, I update travel itineraries for the road trip next week. Then I make sure the rookies know where the bus leaves from.
And of course, I keep smiling until my face hurts.
But my mind keeps spinning back to Mobility Mondays. Scope. Key performance indicators. Risk mitigation. Proof that I'm more than just coffee runs and sympathy.
I work late. By the time I get home to the tiny apartment I share with Jessa, my feet ache and my smile feels permanently fixed in place. Jessa's door is closed, which means she's either asleep or not here. The smart thing would be tocollapse on the couch and watch mindless television until I fall asleep.
Instead, I open my laptop.
Mobility Mondays call my name. I work until almost nine building the proposal. I pull up research studies on mobility work and injury prevention, create templates for tracking range of motion improvements, design sample stretches tied to specific game situations.
Hip openers for wingers. Thoracic rotation for shooters. Shoulder stability for defensemen.
By the time I save the file, my eyes burn and my back aches from hunching over my keyboard. But my chest feels light. Hopeful. It feels better than I did last night, that’s for sure.
I should sleep. We have a big game tomorrow, so I need to be at the arena by six tomorrow morning. But instead of closing my eyes, I open the dating app.
A message waits for me, timestamped from an hour ago.
StatMan12
Still awake?
My pulse jumps. I type back quickly.
Yoga4Lyfe
Just finished working on something. You?
He gets back to me right away. A little chill runs down my spine, thinking how StatMan might have been waiting around to hear from me.
StatMan12
Can't sleep. My mind won't shut off.
Yoga4Lyfe
I know that feeling. What's keeping you up?
StatMan12
Just life. I worked out pretty hard today so I should be dead asleep. But my brain is an asshole sometimes.
Something in my chest twists. I curl up on my bed, laptop balanced on my knees, and type.
Yoga4Lyfe
