“You are freelance, right?”
Trish nods.
“Okay, cool.Cool, cool, coooool.”
“Why?What is this about?”
“Well,” I say, taking a seat opposite her on the white leather sofa I’ll never see again.There is a god.
“How would you feel about becoming my personal diatr—”
“Don’t you dare say Dietrishan, you know our rule, Kyle.”I swear.She goes to turn her hair into a bun, and I laugh.
“Okay, fine,” I say.“Anyway, I have a medical tomorrow up north.”
“Up north?Why?”Her face is a picture of puzzlement.Her ice blue eyes stare at me.
“I’ve been sold to Union.I have a medical appointment tomorrow.And I know they’ll have a fancy team at their disposal, but I would love it if you come with me.”
Trish stands up, and for a moment, I think she’s going to hit me, but instead, she hugs me tight.
“I knew you would make it.I’m so proud of you, Kyle!”
“It’s still early days, though, I could fail my medical and that would be the end of it, but I wanted someone with me, for you know, support?”My anxiety tries to rear its ugly head at the thought of it.I try my best to keep it at bay with happy thoughts.It’s a shame they’re in such sparse supply right now.
Trish makes her way over to the kitchen and starts grabbing ingredients out of the fridge.
I walk over to her and see what she’s doing, and I can’t help but laugh.She places one glass in front of me and one in front of herself, raises it, and I mimic her.
“To success,” she says.
“To success,” I echo.
And we down our smoothies in unison.
We stay up most of the night, talking and watching movies.I try not to think about AJ and the comments on social media.I haven’t told my parents yet, and they haven’t called me, so they obviously don’t know either.Besides, it’s all just paper talk at the minute anyway.Some of the outlets have said I have a medical, but they don’t know when.
I’ve always dreamed of scoring goals for Union.Dreamed of stepping out onto the hallowed pitch.And soon my dreams will hopefully become a reality.
I wake up to the smell of freshly squeezed orange juice and baked goods.I jump out of bed, put some training gear on, and head into the kitchen where I see Trish with a big smile on her face.She hands me a glass of orange goodness and a croissant.
“Good morning, sleep okay?”I ask, as I take a seat at the breakfast bar.
“No complaints.I woke up at five, went for a run, stopped off to get some oranges for the juicer, and thought I should treat us to some bakery goods.”
“I really did make the right decision hiring you, didn’t I?”
She smirks at me, “As long as you know you’re only hiring my assistance and not my—”
“ASSistance?”I helpfully interject.
“Yeah.That,” she says flatly.
A thought gnaws at the back of my mind, I bite my lip and let my truth speak, “Can I tell you something, um, something private, about me?”
Trish shifts in her seat, her eyes turn soft and takes my hand in her own.“Of course, what’s up?”
“I, um, just want you to know, you don’t have to worry about me leering at you or hiring you for the wrong reasons.Not because you’re unattractive, smart, kind, funny…and a brutal taskmaster, but because, well, the thing is, I’m gay.”The words fly out, and I feel free.The rope around my neck loosens.The doctor was right—it does feel good to tell people.Trish squeezes my shoulder.
