David
25 years
I don’t actually bite my nails anymore, after my mother used to hit my fingers with a fly swatter when I was four, but right now I would love to have a completely useless habit to channel my nervousness into for at least eight minutes. I feel like I’m about to implode and completely helpless. I’m still not sure if this really is a good idea, but somehow I got carried away by Louis’s enthusiasm.
Now I’m standing here at the bus stop where Louis will pick me up in ten minutes, hopping from one foot to the other. Since it’s not freezing cold—not at all—all the passers-by probably think I need to go to the bathroom, but hey, it’s not embarrassing at all. I’m totally over it, everything’s cool... Oh God, can someone please bring me a new brain?
Preferably in the next ten minutes, before Louis arrives and I make a complete fool of myself. I thought long and hard about whether this had the potential to be a good idea, but in the end, Lou more or less decided for me, and I had no chance to say no.
“Are you ready?” He looks over at me from the driver’s seat, and memories of previous trips together in this teal-colored VW Polo come flooding back. A slight, expectant smile plays around his lips.
“I’ll probably make a complete fool of myself because I can’t keep up, but I didn’t really feel like no was an option.” Oh God, he’s looking at me again and I lower my gaze to my lap. He makes me feel so incredibly weak, I want to throw myself into his arms, rest my head on his shoulder, hear his heart beating. Is it beating a little faster than normal again?
“Since when is no ever an option?” Even though I don’t look up, I know he’s grinning cheekily and defiantly, but with so much warmth in his coffee-brown eyes that I’m sure I can do anything as long as he’s with me.
“David, honestly, our center back is a complete idiot. Zero timing, zero strategy, and I don’t even want to get started on how he can’t read the opponent. Being better than him isn’t really difficult.”But what if we don’t work together anymore?My biggest fear, one I can’t voice because it doesn’t fit in with our game.
Louis’s car comes to a stop in a large parking lot. We’re running a little late and there are already quite a few carsthere. “Your coach knows I’m coming, right?”
“Yes, and he’s looking forward to it.” I raise my eyebrows questioningly, and there it is again, that grin. “I may have told him where you’re currently practicing.”
Ah, that explains the man from two weeks ago. He was there for almost the entire hour and a half of my practice with my current team, taking notes. I try to reconstruct the training session in my head figuring out if I did anything stupid, but I’m actually sure it was pretty solid. No fireworks, but I’m missing my old teammates, I’m missing Louis.
I’m about to take my ball out of my bag when I hear Louis behind me. “Hey!”
Just one word, and I know immediately what he wants. I can feel it. I turn around in a flash and catch the ball out of the air as it flies easily in my direction. It’s still there, that special connection I felt the moment Louis walked up to me at practice all those years ago.
I pass it back with a little more force, and Louis’s eyes light up.
After an hour, it’s more than obvious that we haven’t lost any of our magic, not a bit.
We play together as if there hadn’t been a six-year break, as if we had practiced every single move together for years. Coach says nothing, occasionally shaking his head, slightly stunned when my interpretation is correct. When his whistle blows, we have twenty minutes left.
“I want to see you play. Seven against seven, split up. Louis, David, I want you together. David as center back.”
“Let’s go, let’s crush them.” Louis high-fives me and beams from ear to ear. He’s pumped, full of adrenaline, just like me, totally focused. The first few minutes are evenly matched, Lou and I test each other out, pushing ourselves to our limits,and when we both feel confident that nothing has changed, we get started. And damn, it’s fun. This is handball. The fact that the rest of the team is also good makes it so much better.
After the final whistle, Louis jumps towards me, wraps his arms around my neck and his legs around my waist. “Damn, that was good! Tell me you thought it was awesome too! Tell me you’ll come back!” Suddenly, he becomes aware of our position and he pauses.
My hands reach under his butt to hold him. “If coach wants me, I’ll come back.” Then my courage leaves me, and I slowly let him back down onto his feet.
“Do you have a player’s ID?” Surprised, I flinch and turn around, still holding the towel I just used to wipe the sweat from my forehead.
“Uh, yes, but not for this league.”
“That doesn’t matter, as long as your details are in the system, I can get you changed quickly. Only if you want to, of course.” If I want to? What kind of question is that? My head almost flies back and forth as I nod exuberantly.
Why can’t I just be cool for once? Just once? “Yes, sure, definitely. Thanks.”
“I don’t know what’s going on between you and Louis, but I want you both on that court together. We can’t save this season, but I have big goals for the next one.”
***
We’re in the lead by a lot against the current league leader. The team is carried along by the momentum that Louis and I bring to the game, everyone running a little faster and jumping a little higher than at practice. Our game isaggressive but fair, which isn’t the case for our opponents.
When they realized they couldn’t keep up with us in terms of skill, they resorted to physical violence. They prefer to go after Lou, partly because he’s a smaller player and therefore an easier target, but also because he’s one of the key players in attack and defense.
Once again, he’s lying on the floor, breathing heavily. I jog over to him and hold out my hand.
