“Well.” Her chin comes up. “It’s a gigantic problem if they’re noticing anything. Especially regarding me and you. That’s exactly why we’re cutting this.”
“Cutting this,” I repeat.
“Yes.”
“Just like that.”
“There was nothing official to cut,” she says, and her voice is very controlled. “That’s the point. We make sure it doesn’t happen again and we move forward professionally, and that’s it.”
“Did you think about my job?” she asks. “When this was - when we were-” She stops again. “I’m the one with stuff to lose here. You’re leaving at the end of the season. You’ve got an offer coming, or you will have, and you’ll be gone and I’ll still be here and if anyone thinks-”
“So that’s what this is? You’re protecting your job.”
“Yes. Among other things.”
“Among other things,” I repeat. “Right.”
Something is building in my head that I know I should put a lid on but I’m not quite managing it.
“What do you want me to say? I made a mistake. We both did. I’m trying to handle it like an adult.”
“An adult. Great. Very adult. Very professional.” I can hear myself and I know I’m losing it, but I can’t stop. “What are you so worried about? You’re a consultant, not a tenured, real coach. And I’m leaving soon anyway - so what’s the actual problem?”
ELIDA
“I’m not a real coach,” I say softly.
He opens his mouth.
“I gave up everything.” My voice comes out low and even which I’m grateful for. “I gave up a career that I spent my entire life building and I came here and I have been working every single day to do this job properly and to be taken seriously and to-” I stop. Breathe. “And you just-”
“I didn’t mean-”
“I’m not a laughing-stock. I’m not someone you can just-” I stop again. “I’m not.”
The word hangs there.
He looks like he wishes desperately he could unsay it.
I don’t give him the chance.
“This conversation is over. The sessions continue because the team needs them and because I’m here to do a job.” The word lands deliberately. “But that’s it. That’s all this is.”
I pick up my notebook.
“Elida-”
“Goodbye, Russo.”
I walk out.
In the corridor I keep my pace even and my head up and I don’t stop until I’m through the exit door and the cold hits me and then I stand in it for a moment with my eyes closed.
Not a real coach.
I know he didn’t mean it. I know it came from frustration. Still, it hurt more than he could guess.
I’m not in the mood to go home so I end up on Main Street.
