by S. M. Parker
Sudbury works the ball to the opposite side of the field, but with effort. By the time I’m set to score, the nymph flits out of my blind spot and hops the ball over my stick. She attempts another goal that Karen thwarts. My breathing comes heavy. Every muscle engages.
Nearly an hour into the game, lights buzz on overhead like mosquitoes. Chants construct walls of sound, the rival crowd so much louder than our supporters. The autumn air nips at the tips of my ears and feels too cold as I breathe the shock of it in and out of my overworked lungs.
By halftime, we’re tied 0–0. Near the end of the last quarter, the game is still scoreless. I feel drained. Only a few minutes remain on the clock. We’re facing possible overtime and all I can think of is splaying myself out on the cold grass and never running again for the rest of my life. Exhaustion spasms my thighs as Coach gathers us for our last time out.
“It’s us or them, girls,” Coach tells us. “One team has to bring home the trophy. That’s the way this works. What you do in the next string of minutes will determine which school will hold the state title. Understand?”
We nod collectively as Coach continues.
I know the high of winning and I want it for me, our school, Coach. I let her last pep talk propel me back onto the field with renewed energy.
Within seconds, a hard thwack sends the ball within reaching distance of Karen. She runs to it, smacks it down the right sideline, and another forward gets control. She keeps the small ball magnetized to the end of her stick. I summon my last bit of strength to sprint to the opposite sideline and position myself for the pass. It comes. Hard. The ball soars over the cropped grass and I halt it with my stick.
I draw it back.
One arm straight.
One elbow bent.
I fix my shoulders.
I swing hard and hear the whoosh of air as the stick cuts through the atmosphere. My forearms ripple with a sting and the thwack echoes against the silenced crowd. I watch the ball rise on wings, heading right for the enemy goal.
Their goalie stretches to reach with her oversize glove, but the ball soars into the upper right corner of the goal box. The net absorbs the spinning orb before spitting it onto the quiet grass, where it stops rolling with all the finality of the end of a sentence.
The final air horn blows. The game is over. The end of my field hockey days for Sudbury. Our supporters explode with cheers and I am lifted by a dozen arms, hoisted into the air so that I’m flying inside and out. Beyond the madness, I see Karen between our goalposts, raising her stick above her head like a bar, pumping it fiercely with two hands. She runs toward me and I swallow this feeling, how it tastes like sugar and pride.
The fatigue in my muscles washes away and my adrenaline convinces me I could run a marathon. When we line up for our good-game high-fives, pride pulsates through me and I’m convinced there is no greater high in the universe.
From within the crowd I hear Lizzie’s distinctive ranch-hand whistle. I spy her on the sidelines with her camera, her hand corralling the team into a group shot.
“Gather up, ladies!” I call, and they do. We pile onto and around one another and scream out “Champions!” at Lizzie’s prompting. We are a mob. A mass. Connected in our triumph. I raise my stick over my head. Someone thrusts the game ball into my other palm. I hold these pieces above me as my teammates raise me above them. Lizzie’s camera follows me upward, her repeated flash leaving dots in my eyes—smaller, brighter versions of the field lights that have borne witness to our hard-won victory.
When my feet return to the ground, Lizzie tells me, “You are now without question the most bestest field hockey player I’ve ever been best friends with. It’s my working headline.” She pulls me to her before her face contorts. “Even if you do smell ripe.”
“It’s an unfortunate side effect of greatness.”
“You were awesome out there, Zee. Really.”
I can’t stop the smile sprinting to my face. “It felt great. A tough game, but an unforgettable one for sure.”
“Not a bad way to end a career.” Lizzie scans the photos on her camera’s display screen. “Yours and mine.”
That’s when it hits me that this is the last game of mine she’ll watch. The last time she’ll write up a story about my team. The thought jolts me with loss. That, and . . .
“Have you seen Gregg?” I wipe the sweat from my forehead with my sleeve and scan the crowd.
She looks at me, her eyes soft. “It’s his loss, Zee.”
My heart plummets to my stomach.
Coach calls for me to get my hustle on. “Chop, chop, Doyle!”
I thumb toward my classmates loading onto the bus. “I gotta ride back with the team. I’ll text you about the party at Karen’s.”
“Figure out the details and just come pick me up. After you shower, obvs.”
“Will do.” I turn, but before my feet carry me away, I move closer toward her. “I want you to have this.” I jiggle my gift in a loose fist.
Lizzie extends her palm, onto which I slide my saliva-filled guard.
“A small trophy. To mark the end of an era.”
“You are gross, Zephyr Doyle.” She hooks my mouth guard across the V of her hoodie like some perverse medal. “You make me so proud, little grasshopper.”
“Thanks Obi-Wan.”
My smile reaches Coach before I do. The bus literally rocks from my teammates clanking sticks in beats of victory. Adrenaline surges. I’ll never have a night like this again and all I want to do is capture this rush, bottle it.
We plan to celebrate in style. Karen’s parents have opened up their house to the team and our fans. Heated pool. Catered food. And even though I’m psyched that Lizzie will be there with me, I can’t help how the sadness of absent Gregg wiggles into this night.
I approach the door to the bus as a figure steals out from beyond the headlights.
I’d know the shape anywhere.
His steady gait.
His broad shoulders.
My heart sprints as if I’m on the field again.
Alec walks to me. “You rocked it, Zephyr actually.”
“You’re here?”
“Wouldn’t have missed it.” He pulls me softly off to the side. It’s almost too surreal: his support, his tousled hair, his beautiful tallness. “See me tonight. To celebrate.” He strokes my cheek with his finger and I press my face into the tenderness of his touch.
“I-I can’t. I already made plans.”
He scowls softly, his disappointment making him even cuter. “With who?”
“The team has this huge celebration bash planned. I told Lizzie we’d head over after I showered.”
“Be with me instead.” He steps closer to me, his breath so close to my neck I can feel its signature heat. And I smell the spearmint hovering on his words.
“I can’t.” I couldn’t.
“You can.”
I laugh. “If only. Maybe tomorrow?”
Alec nods, smiling. “Tomorrow.” He steals a quick kiss on the cheek before Coach hollers again.
“Thanks for coming.” I board the bus and it lurches into gear. I wipe the fog from the window with my palm and that’s when I see him.
My father.
Standing under a parking lot spotlight, hands in his jacket pockets, watching our bus start out on its return trip to Sudbury. I press my hands around my eyes, against the glass, trying to magnify this one person among a crowd of people. But then I don’t need to focus or wonder if he can see me. My father brings one hand free of his jacket and gives me his signature wave, a sideways thumb held steady . . . steady. Until he raises it quick and firm into a thumbs-up. My heart wrenches. It is the same signal he gave me a million and four times from across the playground when I jumped off a swing or when he watched me compete in junior high track meets. My own thumb twitters with a response, but I tuck it into my fist.
The bus lumbers out of the parking lot and I can’t help watching my father’s figure beco
me smaller with distance. Until darkness erases him. Music booms and my teammates sing and scream, but inside my brain the world is silent. And filling with anger. Does he think he can pop back into my life whenever it’s convenient for him? Whether it’s what I want or not? He had to know his presence would rock me. And then my anger reaches out, grabs Mom. Did she tell him to come because she couldn’t be here?
The ride home is too long. It is long enough for my anger to fall into confusion. Over why Dad wants to be a part of my life again. And then anger again at him leaving in the first place and allowing any of this sadness to drape over my insides like a permanent shadow.
By the time I see the WELCOME TO SUDBURY sign, I realize I’ve become that girl again—the one from summer who doubted she had any worth at all if her own father couldn’t see a reason to stay with her. I hate that my father has this much power over me still.
I drive home and stop at our mailbox. I tuck my hand inside and pull out a few bills—all addressed to Dad. I crush them into a ball, toss them in my backseat. Then there is only a card. With two stick figure people walking hand in hand along a beach. The drawing is crude, the shoreline just a thin swipe of ink. I open the card and read:
I dig hanging with you.
A.
I stare at the two outlined figures connected on paper and feel that same connectedness with Alec. How can he know exactly what to say? Even when he’s not here? I clutch the card and know he’s the only person I want to process my father’s skulking with.
I drive the long, dark road of our driveway and am surprised to see Alec’s car waiting in front of our garage.
He steps out just as my headlights wash the side of his perfectly polished car, its chrome gleaming in the starlight.
I roll down my window. Alec leans in. “I know you have plans and you can tell me to go, but you looked so happy after the game, I just had to see you again.”
“I’m glad.” Alec’s presence, the high of our win, the card in the mail . . . these things lift me again. I open my door, climb out.
“I feel like I’d be a really shitty boyfriend if I didn’t at least try to celebrate with you tonight. Besides, your voice is all low and sexy from all that cheering, so there’s that.” He wraps his arm around the small of my back like a hook, pulling me to his hips. When his lips are on mine, I feel the beginning breath of that rush, that adrenaline that built just before scoring.
“I just got your card.”
“I thought . . . you know, this way you wouldn’t be totally disappointed if your acceptance letter didn’t arrive yet. Yet being the operative word.”
His thoughtfulness swallows me. “Can you hang out?”
He looks around. “Tonight? As in now?”
“Yeah, I kind of feel like staying in.”
“What about your plans?”
I shrug. “Not really in the mood anymore.”
“But you’re in the mood for me?”
“Kinda.” I bite on a smile.
“Consider me honored.”
He gathers my Adidas bag and field hockey stick from my backseat and we meet Mom in the kitchen. She looks gorgeous. Her long blond hair has been blown out into soft waves. She’s wearing a periwinkle blue dress and it makes her skin glow. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen Mom wear anything but a dark suit.
“You look nice. Are you going out or coming home?”
“Out.” She urges me with animated eyes. “Well, did you win?”
“We’re the official state champs.”
Mom pulls me into her arms, hugs me tight. “Oh Zephyr! That’s incredible!” She looks to Alec. “Did you go to the game? Was it wonderful?”
“Zephyr scored the winning goal.”
Mom releases her hug, puts me at arm’s length to study me. “You didn’t! Oh, it kills me I wasn’t there to see it. You know that, right?” Mom had to meet with a client at the state prison. The timing of those things is pretty precise.
“Lizzie’s covering it for the paper. She’ll make you feel like you were there.”
Mom pulls me to her again. “I can’t wait. And there’ll be photos too, I hope?”
“Lizzie’s thorough.”
Mom squeezes me, whispers in my ear. “I’m so proud of you, Zephyr.” Then she finally releases me. “I’m meeting up with people from work, but I’ll only be an hour or so.”
I take in her outfit again. And the three new plants on the counter, a bag of potting soil waiting at the laundry room door.
“Where are you kids going to celebrate?”
“Karen’s,” I say, too quickly.
“Oh, that sounds like fun!” Mom can hardly contain her joy, but I don’t think it’s because of my win. Not totally. “Be home by eleven.”
Alec squeezes my hand. “I’ll make sure of it,” he says, so quickly a conspirator in my lie.
“Good. Thank you.” Mom looks around frantically for her purse. I spy her bag on the island chair and hand it to her. “You don’t mind that I’m going out? I could stay if you wanted to do something special.”
“Nope. We’re leaving for Karen’s in, like, five.”
“Okay, good. Great. I want you to enjoy this night, Zephyr. You trained so hard for this.” She turns to Alec, says good-bye.
“It was nice seeing you again, Mrs. Doyle.”
Mom kisses me on the head then, pulls me in for another deep hug.
When she leaves, the house falls quiet. Too quiet. “I’ll be right back,” I tell Alec. I run outside and catch up with her.
“Mom . . . ?”
Mom turns, looking so beautiful. “Yes?”
I want to ask her about Dad. If she told him about the game and why she didn’t warn me. But seeing her smile, the way she looks—confident, happy. “Have fun,” I say instead. Mom winks at me before heading to her car.
I dip back into the house, where Alec’s waiting. I go to him, my lips finding his so quickly. His hands pull my hips to his. Hard. I kiss him harder, for an eternity of minutes. It is an effort to pull away.
“I’m so glad you’re here. This is just what I needed. A night in. Something quiet. No drama.” I kiss him again, quickly this time. “I need to call Lizzie. Let her know I’m bailing on Karen’s.”
He takes a small step back, rakes his fingers through his hair. “Yeah, of course.”
I text Lizzie and she calls two seconds later. “What’s up?”
“I’ve decided to stay in. Alec’s here.”
“You’re blowing me off for Hockey Boy?”
“I’m not blowing you off, Lizzie. I just . . .”
“Don’t be that girl, Zee. You need to be out with the team. You’re the captain.”
As if I didn’t know. As if the stress hasn’t been enough all season. “Cocaptain, and I wanted to celebrate, Lizzie, I did. But . . .”
“Something happened. What happened?”
I turn away from Alec, fidget with the dish towel folded under Mom’s pruning shears. “My father was at the game.”
“Holy shit, Zee. You doing okay? Do you want to talk? I can be over in, like, fifteen minutes.”
“Thanks, but it’s cool. Alec is here.”
I hear the weight of her sigh. “Yeah, okay. I’ll tell Karen you weren’t feeling well.”
I tack on another “thanks” before hanging up.
Alec gathers me to his chest and I feel safe. “I’m sorry your father hijacked your win. That’s really lame.”
I pull back. “He didn’t.” I’m surprised by how quickly I leap to Dad’s defense. “It just left me feeling kind of lost I guess. Like I don’t know what to do.”
“Do you have to do anything?”
I search his eyes.
Alec caresses my jaw. “Right now, right here, you don’t have to do anything or decide anything. You can just be. With me, of course. That’s my caveat. That you just be with me.”
“Bossy,” I tease. But it’s perfect. I want to just be with Alec. Free of any doubt or drama.
I toss my Adidas bag onto the laundry machine and tuck my stick into the forgotten corner of the laundry room. I take Alec’s hand to lead him to my room.
I watch him stretch out onto my bed, prop his head against my pillows. He kicks off his sneakers and they thud onto the floor, one before the other. He crosses his legs and even his socks are cute. Finn sniffs around his Alec’s toes, his ears flat back in a way I’ve never seen.
“I don’t think your dog likes me.” Alec holds out his hand for Finn to sniff. Finn backs away.
“It just takes him a beat to warm up to new people. I’m not sure he had the nicest owner before we got him.” I kneel next to Finn, which feels easier than joining Alec on the bed. I pull Finn’s head to my chest. “But now you’re loved, aren’t you? Who loves you more than chocolate?” I kiss him on the nose. “That’s right, I do. I love you more than anything.”
When I stand, I pin Alec’s card and the “Everything from A to Zee” menu to my wall collage, careful to place them far away from any pictures of Gregg. “How’d you get to be so thoughtful?”
“I never thought I was, really. I think you might bring out the best in me.”
I blush, bending to tousle the red fur on Finn’s head. “I have to change. I think I might stink.” I step out of my sneakers, line them up with my other shoes.
“Don’t let me stop you.”
I turn at the suggestion in his tone, a new blush already painting the rounds of my cheeks. “You mean, like, here? In front of you?”
He sits up, crosses his legs, balancing his elbows upon his knees. “Are you offering?”
My room shifts Arctic cold. I raise my arms across my chest; spy my bedroom door that’s cracked open. Part of me wishes Mom was still home. “Um, no. Definitely not.”
Alec stares at me, stares through me. He walks across the room, shoos Finn out the door before closing it. He grabs my hips from behind, presses his lips to my ear. “I would never want to make you feel uncomfortable, Zephyr. I just want to be around you. Is that okay?” He spins me to face him and the entire world falls away.