I watch a woman a few seats down from us take a covert sip from her flask, and with a sigh, reach for my pink tumbler instead. Today’s drink of choice is the usual chai, although heavy-handed on the concentrate and not so much on the milk. I’ll be needing it.
With a grumbled curse, I massage the tension out of my temples. If the chaos of the tournament wasn’t enough, it’s also currently seven a.m., which means we woke up at the first lick of dawn to be here. I take down my hair in hopes of releasing some of the pain from my scalp, and stick the pink hair tie on Rod’s wrist, next to about two others. No wonder I’m running low on hairbands.
‘Hey, Collector’s Edition.’ I prod at the other bands. ‘I’ll be needing those back eventually.’
‘Give me two to three business days,’ he grins, ‘and I might just consider it. I like having them with me.’
I scoff in a great display of irritation, but my smile gives me away. He can keep them, honestly. The fuzzy happiness that ripples through me when I think of him keeping my hair ties with him day in, day out is something else.
‘There she is!’ Rod squeezes my shoulder and points down towards Ring Two, marked by a big silver Mylar ‘2’ balloon. The lore was so accurate. I watch as Tali, in a red chest protector, walks on the mat and faces another pint-size kid in blue. Tali’s braid is sticking out the back of her helmet. They are little Rock ’Em Sock ’Em robots if I’ve ever seen them.
‘LET’S GO!’ Rod and I both yell with all the fervour of determined professional athletes. There are parents around us going even harder – we’re talking the kind of volume that would deafen the average human being, teeth-baring screaming – but we are locked in, which is something I never thought I’d say, especially when the kids start fighting. It is precious. One of them throws a kick, and then the other calculates before returning it. Tali, for the record, is an absolute menace, as competitive as her father. She finds a rhythm that gets her what have to be the kindest chest shots I’ve ever seen, one after another. Rod and I are on our feet gesturing wildly, and we literally jump into each other’s arms when the ref calls it, taking Tali’s tiny hand and raising it high. ‘Winner – red!’
‘YOU GO, GIRL!’ I howl, shaking Rod so hard I’m surprised I don’t knock him over. Tali finds us with the broadest grin and the cutest little wave. Oh, she is a graceful sportswoman, and she is definitely her father’s daughter. It’s a skill I envy. I don’tthink there has ever been a flattering photo of me taken after a victory to date. ‘Let’s go get that TROPHY!’
In one another’s embrace, waving back at Tali, my heart sprouts minuscule wings. This is a little bit unfamiliar, a little bit untrodden. I’m in this unreal space where it feels like our worlds, mine and Rod’s, have merged, rather than collided. It’s so new, a leap of faith, but this is it. I know I’m in deep when Rod and I exchange a look of pride, which then turns to realization as we soak this in. Both of us have had our respective experiences with looking up at the stands and feeling a little bit empty. There is no emptiness here. I rest my head against Rod’s shoulder and just let myself savour it all.
‘Jor, speaking of trophies. You do know,’ laughs Rod, ‘that we have to wait tillallthe kids are done for that – right?’
I very abruptly pause my celebration. ‘We what?’
‘They’ll do the presentation of the awards …’ Rod leans in ominously. ‘At the very end.’
I slump forward with all the drama in my body. ‘I need one of those five-hour energy things,’ I groan.
Rod just chuckles. ‘They do have Red Bull, if you’ll settle for that.’
‘Oh, anything will do at this point.’
‘Perfect.’ He presses a quick kiss to my cheek before nodding at the exit to the gym. ‘Concessions. I’ll be back in five.’
‘You’re the best.’
I watch him head down the stands, and towards the concession just outside the gymnasium. This man. Sometimes, I still cannot believe he’s real, and not just a myriad of YouTube highlights watched with dreaminess all in my young college eyes.
‘Excuse me?’
‘Hmm?’
A woman’s voice sucks me from my little college reminiscence. Time to screw my head on right. I yank myself from Magic Kingdom and into reality, regarding the stranger standing before me. I’ve definitely not seen her before. She’s got curls somewhere between blonde and brunette in colour, a slightly upturned nose, and hazel eyes, all of which strike me as vaguely familiar, but unplaceable. Her outfit makes me feel immediately underdressed. It screams boss lady: a short-sleeved white sweater, coffee-coloured wide leg pants cinched with a gold-buckled belt, and polished black Gucci flats.
‘Is this seat taken?’ she asks, gesturing to the empty space to my right, opposite where Rod’s left his jacket.
‘Not at all.’ I find myself unconsciously smoothing down my jeans and Black Sabbath T-shirt. My eyes travel down to the pair of boots on my feet. Not very Gucci of me.
I whip out the positive self-talk in this moment. Or at least I try, when the woman asks, ‘Which one’s yours?’
Eek. I nearly laugh. Would ‘it’s complicated’ be a sufficient answer? Instead, I stick with safe. ‘Oh, she wrapped up a little while back. Just waiting for the awards.’
‘Me, too.’ Boss Lady shoots me a quick, apologetic smile. ‘I unfortunately just missed my daughter. Guess it’s time to long haul it, then.’
‘Yes,’ I agree with gusto and a barely concealed yawn. ‘Thankfully I’ve got a Red Bull on the way.’
‘I ought to have grabbed one,’ she remarks.
‘Long morning?’
‘I had a call right before this. And afterwards, it’s back to the office.’
