Technically, we’ve been together less than a week, though that really doesn’t encapsulate our history. I’m expecting those conversations will come up soon.
“Well, when you’re ready.” Opa opens the cigar box that’s always sat on the table next to his favorite chair. He used to smoke regularly, before I moved in with him. The cloves scent still clings to some of the furniture.
When his hand reappears, there’s a small velvet box inside. I know what it is, even before he casts a furtive look at the doorway. Claire’s been gone for a lot longer than the time it takes to pour a glass of water, and I’m certain it’s on purpose. That she’s gifting us this time alone, lending silent support.
“It was Ella’s,” he tells me, passing the box. “I know your grandmother would have wanted you to have it. To give it to Claire, if you’d like.”
I flip the lid open, studying the diamond ring. My grandparents got married young. They grew up together, in this town, a neighbor once told me. Opa rarely talks about his late wife. Even now, nearly fifty years after her death, I can see the sadness in his expression. A football field is where I’ve spent most Sundays, but that doesn’t prevent me from hoping there’s some reunion ahead for them. That death isn’t a final parting.
I shut the box and stand, words still hard to summon.
Opa stands, too, without needing any assistance. I can’t decide if it makes it better or worse—that he appears perfectly healthy. It makes what’s coming harder to accept. But I’m glad that he’s still well enough to move around with assistance. That his grip is firm as we shake hands and as we share a quick embrace. It’s not as awkward as I expected, considering we haven’t hugged since I was a kid.
“I’m proud of you, boy,” he tells me.
I swear under my breath, spotting the crowd gathered ahead. I’m guessing Saylor, Beck, Sophia, and Will have already arrived. We’re running late since traffic heading into the city was especially slow. Claire and I spent twice as long in Tannfeld as I had expected to. We walked to the white church, stopping under the oak tree, where my mom and grandmother were buried. Went to agasthausin town for lunch and stayed at his house until Mila stopped by in the afternoon with groceries for Opa.
It was a good day. A great day. And I refuse to let a horde of press and fans detract from it, even though I’m more irritated by the paparazzi than I’ve ever been before. I went from basking in the attention as a teenager to adjusting to it as an adult, and I also became accustomed to a certain absence of it in Boston. In Kluvberg, interest in me is at an all-time high. It would have been anyway, probably, coming back from my injury. The press conference and the scene I made in the stands only fanned the flames. And it’s not just me under scrutiny anymore.
I glance at Claire, who’s already spotted the clamoring in front of our destination. She’s smiling, which is a relief. After everything we’ve been through, I didn’t think some nosy reporters would scare her off. But I know it’s an adjustment.
I pull up to the valet stand, climbing out and tossing the keys to a wide-eyed guy who looks to be in his early twenties.
Having Sophia choose the restaurant tonight was probably a mistake. She has a tendency to select trendy, popular places that attract attention. And patrons who follow football and care about three FC Kluvberg players appearing.
I round the front of the car, pulling open Claire’s door and offering her a hand. The flashes come even faster once she’s out of the car.
“Holy shit,” she murmurs as I shut the door and pull her tight to my side.
A pathway has been cleared to the entrance of the restaurant, but it’s lined with people snapping photos on their phones. White spots dance across my vision as we walk into the building.
I glance at Claire. “You okay?”
She nods, taking my hand as we follow a hostess over to a corner table.
Saylor jumps up first, flinging her arms around Claire, forcing me to drop her hand, and essentially ignoring me. I roll my eyes as I greet Beck and Will, then hug Sophia.
When Saylor finally releases my girlfriend, I hug her too. I also whisper, “Thank you.”
I assumed—and Beck confirmed—that Saylor was the one who had gotten Claire into the stadium for the charity match.
“You’re welcome,” she tells me, smirking. Then her smile fades, expression shifting to serious. “I’m really glad I got to be a part of your love story, like you got to be a part of mine and Beck’s.”
I manage a nod, words slippery again. My emotions are still raw from my conversation with Opa earlier, especially now that I’m in the midst of people who have served as my family on the days it felt like I had none.
Everyone takes their seats, and a waiter comes over to take our orders. I’ve had a lot of dinners with these four people, but this one feels entirely different.
We don’t discuss football as we eat, drink, and talk, even though it’s what the five of us have in common. We talk about Gigi, who’s starting to show an interest in football, to her parents’ delight. About Will and Sophia’s upcoming wedding.
And my friends pelt Claire with questions. She and Will bond over Boston.
Midway through the meal, it occurs to me that I’m no longer unsure of what my life post-retirement will look like.
Whether I play in Boston—my agent assured me Beacon FC isveryinterested in signing me—for one year or ten, whether it’s a conscious choice or because of an injury I can’t rehab, it won’t be the sinkhole that swallowed me after my shoulder tore.
It will be hard. Will be an ending.
But it’ll be a beginning, too, the same way right now feels like one.
