“Here. I want you to stay here. Next to me.”
She smiles, nervously biting her lip.
“Stay. I promise I’ll concentrate on the match. Just stay.”
“Okay.”
She sits on the bench – as if she were the team chairman, I guess – as I join Tyler at the side of the pitch, trying to spur on the kids, and make sure my headmistress gets her victory.
“She came.”
“Of course.”
Tyler laughs. “Imagine if we lose, now.”
“Imagine if I told you to fuck off.”
“Isn’t that what you always do?”
I sigh and glance quickly over my shoulder.
“She’s here.”
Tyler smiles.
“That must mean something, right?”
“It means she probably cares about you, you dickhead – like I do. Not in the same way, obviously, but I still care. See, Kerry: not everyone hates you.”
Maybe this means that, for the first time in my life, things are starting to go in the right direction.
* * *
When the sponsorsand the organisers place the trophy into the eager hands of my team – among the cheering crowd, and the smile of my headmistress – my confidence has reached an all-time high. It feels even better than when I used to play myself, back when I was a champion. Maybe it’s because, in my headmistress’ eyes, there’s something much deeper than plain admiration; maybe it’s because of the pride I can read in my daughter. Maybe it’s because all I can see isher.
I break away from the team, from all the people trying to shake my hand, and I lead her under the bleachers, to the same spot where I found my daughter kissing her new boyfriend – or whatever he is to her, now.
“I want to hear the terms of your agreement.”
“Don’t you want to go and bask in your glory a little more?”
“I want to know if you love me,” I say, instantly. No use beating around the bush, right? “I want to know if you believe.”
“What is there to believe in?”
I stroke her face, sliding my hand around to the back of her neck, before leaning down to her and pressing my lips against hers. It’s a gentle, intimate kiss; one that makes you hope for more kisses, for a future.
It makes you hope for a happily-ever-after.
“Don’t you want to hear about my proposal first?”
“I want to hear everything you have to say.”
“I’ve been cheated on. Humiliated. Cast aside,” she says, calmly. She isn’t telling me because she wants pity; she’s telling me because it’s led her to the woman she is today. “I told myself I wasn’t good enough: that I was boring, predictable.” She thinks about this, then goes on. “I told myself I could never seduce a man.”
The mere thought of her seducing anyone else makes me clench my jaw tightly.
“I told myself that I wasn’t the kind of woman that men reallydesire. I felt stupid and small. I felt worthless.”
