Opa leans on his cane and watches, an inscrutable expression on his face. He’s seen me interact with some fans before, but not many. I haven’t invited him to a match since I called him with the news that I’d been named the starting keeper for Germany’s team at the Paris Olympics. When I offered tickets, he said he’d rather watch from home, but I’m not sure he ever did.
I’ve resented his indifference toward football plenty of times, but I don’t hate it. It protected this escape, provided one place—one person—I was simply Otto to. I’ve had teammates who were berated by family members for poor performances or constantly asked for money. I was never treated as anything more than ordinary, and it was a pocket of normalcy I should have appreciated more.
The boy runs back into his yard, his mom calling a thank-you that I respond to with a wave, and we continue down the street.
“I remember when that was you,” Opa says quietly.
47
CLAIRE
Low buzzing wakes me. I reach for the spot where I keep my phone, brushing soft nylon instead of hard wood. That contrast is enough to wake me fully, blinking and disoriented.
Cassidy and Josh left on their—unbeknownst to Cassidy—engagement trip this morning. Tommy wanted to camp out in the backyard tonight. I agreed, thinking we’d wind up inside after the novelty of the tent wore off, but he fell asleep an hour ago. I dozed off at some point too, apparently.
My phone’s still buzzing. I locate the device, flipping it over so I can see the screen. Instantly, my stomach somersaults with a mix of nerves and excitement.
I accept the call, whispering, “One sec,” before tucking the phone in the waistband of my sweatpants and crawling past a snoring Tommy. I unzip the tent as quietly as possible, then tumble out onto cool grass.
I walk past the row of blooming dahlias, taking deep breaths as I approach the swing set that was my tenth birthday gift. After the wedding, I hope Josh winds up joining Cassidy and Tommy here. It’s a house meant for a family to live in. And I want to notlive here, surrounded by ghosts of Mom in every nook, cranny, and flower.
“You still there?” I ask, raising the phone to my ear as I sink onto one of the swings.
“Yes,” Otto replies. “And I just realized how late it is there. Sorry.”
He sounds more tired than I do, but I don’t say so.
“I was up.”
“Liar.”
Rather than deny it, I laugh. “How could you tell?”
“I just can. Your voice gets higher.”
“I wasn’t expecting to fall asleep. I’m camping in the backyard with Tommy. Cassidy and Josh are gone for the weekend.”
“The proposal trip?”
I shouldn’t be surprised. He’s proven multiple times that he listens to me. That he remembers. But I’m so used to expecting people won’t, I guess, that it still catches me off guard.
“Exactly.” I tip my head back, staring at the starry sky overhead. The same one he looks at, even halfway around the world, and the thought is oddly comforting. Like he’s not that far away, even though I know, logically, there are a lot of miles between us right now. “How is…being back?”
“Good—mostly. Busy. Kluvberg’s doctors officially cleared me. My first day training in goal is tomorrow. We have got a charity match coming up next week.”
“You’re starting in it?”
“Yes.” I can hear the smile—the relief—in his voice.
“That’s incredible, Otto. Congratulations.”
“You were the first person I wanted to tell when they cleared me.”
I open my mouth, then close it again. I’m not sure how to reply to that. So, I start swinging, the whoosh of summer air combing through my loose curls.
“I was not sure if I should call,” he continues. “We did not really talk about…boundaries.”
“That wouldn’t have been as fun as sex.”
