Coach Me

by Lulu Pratt

  Sophia cried, “Hell yeah!” and the whole team burst into excited laughter.

  “Well, okay then,” I said with a grin. “I like the enthusiasm.” I checked my phone and saw that every minute we stood on this grass, time was ticking away.

  “We’d have to go, like, right now,” I explained.

  Rose bent down, double-tied her shoes, and then straightened up to say, “Okay, now I’m ready.”

  “Since practice looks as though it’s not happening today, consider this getting in your laps,” I joked, before taking off like a shot.

  I began to sprint across the field, with my entire team following me like a battalion. And only a few hours ago, I’d wondered if I would ever lead them again. How could I have even questioned their loyalty? These girls would follow me to the ends of the earth — they’d even follow me into the Athletics Director’s office.

  We raced across campus, around buildings, over mud and in between students. Heads turned to watch us as we flew past, baffled and intrigued. You don’t even know the half of it, I wanted to tell the bystanders.

  To their credit, the girls weren’t even out of breath when we pulled to a halt in front of David’s door, which was a long way across campus from the field. Good. At least that meant they were still in fighting shape, despite all that I’d put them in through in the last few days.

  “This is it,” I said quietly.

  An arm slung around my shoulder, and I looked to my side to see that Grace was next to me.

  “You can do this,” she whispered. “We’ll be right by your side the whole time.”

  The rest of the team nodded in agreement.

  That gave me all the push I needed. I flung open the office door just in time to see Simon rising from his seat across from David.

  “Catya?!” he exclaimed. Then he looked over my shoulder and saw the rest of the team. “Uh, what’s the team doing here? What’s going on?”

  Instead of responding, I fully opened the door, and walked in, gesturing for the team to follow me. We filed into David’s office, a space that was conveniently big enough to hold all of us. The man of the hour, David, was seated at his desk, looking on incredulously.

  “Hello, Catya,” he said, and to the team, “hello, Stallions.”

  “Hi, David,” we all chorused, in that annoying synchronicity habit leftover from years of organized sports.

  Simon, looking desperate and on edge, intervened to say, “Catya, you can’t be here right now.”

  I shook my head. “Sorry, but I have to be. I won’t let you do what you’re about to do.”

  “It’s already done,” he replied.

  The team’s shocked murmurs swept around me like a sea, but I stood fast, an anchor in the currents.

  David raised his voice to agree with Simon. “He’s already turned in his resignation. I wasn’t sure it was a great idea, but it’s his job and his call. You kids gotta respect that.”

  I refrained from rolling my eyes, and replied, “We’re not kids, and he’s resigning because he thinks that if he doesn’t, my scholarship would be at risk.”

  “Is that true, Simon?” David asked. “I thought you were worried about Title IX.”

  “Well, that too,” I interrupted. “But mostly, it’s my scholarship. He thinks that if he stays here, I’ll get in trouble for, um, being involved with a coach, and that I’ll be kicked off the team before word gets out and ULA gets in trouble. That you will martyr me to save him. And Simon doesn’t want to let that happen.”

  I looked over to where Simon was standing, his long body casting shadows in the afternoon light. His face, torn as it was by diverging emotions, looked like that of a tortured statue, a stone man who only wanted love and was instead met by war. I could see that he’d tried to protect me, that he’d whipped out his sword just to fall on it, and that I was spoiling his big plan to keep me safe.

  To him, to my stone man, I said, “Simon, you don’t get to be the only one here who makes big sacrifices. You’ve got to leave enough heroism to go around.”

  Prompted by my joke, a small smile crossed his face, but quickly dispersed. He replied, “Please, love, don’t—”

  “Love. I’m doing this for love,” I responded.

  The team was breathing heavily behind me, on tenterhooks, excited to see where this went. I swiveled in David’s direction, forcibly tearing myself from Simon’s scared but affectionate gaze.

  I summon my courage, and announced to David, “Sir, if Simon has to quit this job, I’ll stop playing for the Stallions.”

  The girls hadn’t known I was going to do that. In fairness, I probably should’ve warned them, but I was going more for drama than practicality.

  “You’ll do what?!” Simon shouted.

  David added, “You can’t do that.”

  And all the girls behind me exclaimed, in different wording but with ultimately the same intention, “No, you fucking won’t!”

  I waited for the storm to pass around me — for Simon to lift his face from his hands, for David’s frown to turn a somewhat friendlier direction, for the team’s noises to die down. It was a full thirty seconds of all-out confusion, but I withstood it, confident for once that I was doing the right thing. If I’m being honest, the outcry did give me one second of self-doubt, but then I looked at Simon, and that was all I needed. His very presence gave me the strength to be better than I was. And wasn’t that what love is?

  The room grew silent once more, and it was clear that people were expecting me to respond, and hoping that that response would be something along the lines of, ‘Oh gosh, you sure are right, whatever was I thinking?’

  Instead, I said, “I love this school, I love this team, and I love soccer. Honestly, it would break my heart to quit playing for ULA. But—” and here, I crossed the room to stand in front of Simon, and force him to look in my eyes. “I love Simon more than all of that.”

  The girls, unable to help themselves, let out a round of ‘awws,’ like a soap opera mixed with a Greek chorus.

  Simon, in contrast, just shook his head, and under his breath, whispered, “Catya, I’m begging you, please. Don’t do this.”

  I ignored him, and turning to David, said, “I’m sorry to do this, but I have no choice. If Simon goes, so do I. We’re a package deal. And I know that I’m ULA’s star player.”

  For a moment, I wondered if that was too arrogant of me to say, and turned to apologize to the team, but then the women behind me all nodded in vigorous agreement.

  With their vote, I continued, declaring, “If I leave, the soccer season is in trouble. Not because this isn’t a great team, but because they need a captain.”

  “Yeah,” affirmed Beth, and several other girls repeated her ‘yeah.’

  “And,” I said, “if the season is bad, ULA loses all the money it’s poured into soccer, and the donors will get upset, and you’ll have a fiscal crisis on your hands.”

  Okay, so that part… that part I was kind of making up on the fly. I wasn’t wrong — see, colleges in the US, private ones that is, are almost entirely dependent on alumni donations, and at schools like ULA, those donations are mostly generated from alumni who still have ‘school spirit’ for the institution’s sports teams.

  People gave millions upon millions each year to ULA just to keep the sports in good standing. If a team like women’s soccer, which was by far the most popular women’s team and the one with the best standing, started to falter, it stood to reason that folks would see it as a red flag for the rest of the athletics at ULA, and consider pulling their donations. Mind you, I was reasoning all of this out off the cuff, but I figured my logic made sense.

  By the look on David’s face, I’d hit the nail right on the damn head. He seemed to pale with the realization that what I’d said was completely true — without a good season, his department was in trouble, and without me, there might not be a good season — the girls had said as much.

  “But,” I continued, “if you let Simon stay, I�
��ll leave quietly. With him at the helm, the team can work, can succeed, can win championships. I’m saying if you send Simon off, I’ll go, but if you keep Simon on, I’ll quit and you’ll still have a team. Okay?”

  That was it, that was my ultimatum. I’d given him a rock and a hard place. Either way, the team would suffer, but I felt confident that as long as they had Simon, they could still clinch the title. I’d be sad — no, devastated — to go, but it was worth it to let the man of my dreams pursue his dreams.

  David gave me a long, hard stare, and then at last said, “And you know this whole thing, this standing up for your beliefs… that it might mean nothing? That Simon might have to leave anyways, or that you could still lose your scholarship?”

  I took a deep breath and nodded. “Yes. I understand.”

  Chapter 29

  Simon

  I loved Catya, but God almighty, she could be stubborn.

  Looking at her, in that moment, I was so in love. Her hands were planted firmly on her hips, her chest thrust forward, and it occurred to me that she looked like Wonder Woman — fierce, determined, ready to take evil to task. Her stance reminded me, once more, of why I couldn’t let her do this.

  “Catya,” I said quietly. “Stop. Just… you have to let me go.”

  She turned and caught my gaze, and replied, “I’m not going to do that.”

  “I’m an adult, love, I can make my own decisions.”

  “So am I. And this is my decision — that I love you, and want to be with you. How complicated is that?”

  David spoke up. “Simon, quitting this job means you’d have to leave the country, so I’ll ask one more time — are you sure?”

  Catya whirled around on me. Shit. I’d still sort of forgotten to mention my immigration status to her.

  “What?!” she cried out, and the girls behind us echoed her like the sheer walls of a mountain.

  In a low voice, attempting to be discreet, I asked her, “Can we talk about this later—”

  “No! You were going to quit this job and then have to leave the country, all because of me?”

  I shrugged, looked askance, and replied, “I’m on a work visa. So, yes, if I left ULA, it wouldn’t be long before ICE caught up with me. I don’t think they’re exactly targeting British nationals right now, but they’re certainly on a tear. That is — yeah. I probably wouldn’t have much time left in the US.”

  Catya’s eyes were red with tears. “No. No, you can’t leave. You can’t leave. I was pretty sure about my decision before, but now that I know this… of course I’m quitting the team. Getting deported is a way bigger deal than quitting a college soccer team.”

  “This is your dream!” I shouted. “Love, you have to pursue your dreams! I can’t be the one who stands in the way of that.”

  Without warning, Catya flung herself into my arms, and held tight to me. We clung to one another, scared and confused by our choices. Would I leave the country, or would she leave the college?

  She lifted her head from my chest, wiped away a few tears, and to David, said, “My choice is final. I’ll leave the team.”

  “Catya—”

  She cut me off, replying, “It feels good to just follow my heart, instead of following a set plan. It feels… right.”

  I wanted to kiss her so badly, but knew that that would probably be throwing salt in everybody’s wounds.

  David’s face was inscrutable. Was he with us, or against us? He looked to be frowning, but then, he always looked like that.

  “Anything else?” he asked us.

  I gazed at Catya, and pulled her closer to me. To David, I said, “Sir, you’ll have to choose which one of us goes. It’s obvious to me that neither of us are capable of convincing the other, so it’s up to you. Who stays, and who goes? Personally, I think I should be the one to leave—”

  Catya interjected, “But I know I’m the one who should leave.”

  David sighed, and the room held its breath. At last, he said, “My decision is… “

  My heart pounded and I gripped Catya. Her small hands curled around my arms as we waited in what felt like the space of forever to hear David’s answer.

  “Neither,” he finished. “My decision is that neither of you goes.”

  “What?” Catya and I and several of the team members behind us said simultaneously.

  “That’s my decision,” David said, by way of explanation.

  I cleared my throat. Hoping it didn’t sound like I was talking down to him, I said carefully, “David, one of us has to leave, or there’s Title IX issues. The conference could disband us. We can’t be in a relationship and play for the same team. And,” I turned to Catya to double-check, “we want to be in a relationship.”

  She smiled sadly and nodded. There was no perfect solution here, only hard compromises made out of pure love.

  “I heard your options,” David sniffed, evidently impervious to our emotional display. “I don’t like them.”

  We stared at him blankly. Where was this going?

  He continued, “So… we’re going to rethink this. Here’s my offer, you can take it or leave in this room, right now, or it goes away. No second chance on this one. Deal?”

  I nodded, and then pivoted to look at Catya, who also indicated her agreement. She clasped my hand so tightly I wondered if I was losing circulation. Not that it mattered. If I couldn’t be with her, I didn’t want any of my limbs. What was the point of my body, save to touch hers?

  “Okay,” David went on. “What we’re gonna do is — Simon, you’re gonna move to the men’s soccer team, and start coaching them. You’ll be co-head coach with Patrick. He’s old school, and he might not — rather, he will not — like it at first, but tough tits, he’ll get over it and he’s retiring in six months. We’ll need to get a new women’s coach, but that shouldn’t be hard. Maybe we’ll get a lady this time, for a change. And as long as you’re not directly coaching Catya, you can continue to see one another, in a romantic sense, that is. This way, no one has to leave the country or the school, and I keep my team, and my donors, happy. Now how does that sound?”

  I looked to Catya, who grinned and turned to the team and said, “That work for you, girls?”

  “Yes!” they all screamed back, delighted and overjoyed for their teammate and maybe even for their now-former coach. Their collective volume was almost ear-shattering.

  “I think we have our answer,” I said simply, trying to refrain from breaking out into a downright jig. “Yes, of course. Of course we’ll take that deal.”

  “Then it’s settled,” he said, leaning back in his chair, looking like he wanted a cigarette or at least a glass of hard whiskey. “Now you kids go celebrate.”

  I had waited long enough, and couldn’t wait anymore. I grabbed Catya’s waist, pulled her close to me, and brought her lips to mine. We kissed instantly and ecstatically, our hands unable to grab enough of one another, our mouths celebrating in joyous chorus. The ground seemed to drop away beneath my feet as we moved ever closer, our bodies nearly levitating with happiness. I’d known that love would find a way, and I’d been proven right.

  At last, we moved away from one another’s embrace, and shared a small, sacred smile.

  “So we’re doing this, huh?” she asked, pointing back and forth between us to indicate a relationship.

  “Yeah,” I replied, unable to contain my emotion. “We’re totally doing this.”

  Epilogue

  — Two Months Later —

  Catya

  Two months had passed since David had given Simon and I permission to keep dating one another, and now, it was time for the championships.

  Yeah — we’d qualified for the championships. What, like it was hard? Just kidding, it was a ton of work, but we’d done it and now the whole of ULA was turning out for the game. Apparently, every single seat in the visiting section of our opponent’s stadium had been sold out. The pressure of thousands of people watching didn’t stress me out, though. I had a
secret weapon — Simon.

  While Simon may no longer have been my coach, he was now my boyfriend, and as my boyfriend, he insisted that we train hard for the championships. Mostly, that meant going to the gym together. Sometimes, it just meant really athletic sex. I didn’t complain about either option. In any case, we’d been training like hell, and I knew I was in the best shape of my life. It didn’t hurt that I was also madly in love, and woke up every day thrilled about what was to come next.

  We’d been in love since the moment we met, but we’d fallen harder and harder for one another in the intervening months. Turns out, the more time we spent together, the more we found to like about each other — something that wouldn’t have been possible if Simon had left the country or if I’d left ULA.

  I boarded the bus to the final round of the championships that morning with excitement and nerves. The team we were up against was hard, but I felt confident that we could do it if we put our minds to it. Since Simon’s departure to the men’s team, we’d acquire a new female coach who worked us just as hard as Simon, and was less physically distracting, though a few of the queer women on the team had fallen for her.

  “So, is Simon coming today?” Nora asked coyly, turning around in her seat to address me.

  I shook my head. “Nah, the boys have a game today too, so he can’t make it.”

  “Aw, that sucks!” Beth exclaimed. The other girls nodded in agreement.

  Since Simon’s and my little — well, enormous — relationship problem had been solved, the girls had become super supportive of our relationship. Simon was at every game of mine that he could possibly attend, and they all still greeted him as ‘coach’ and hugged him. He was, in many ways, still part of the team.

  So I think we were, the lot of us, a little bummed that he couldn’t make it. His careful watching from the sidelines made everyone feel safe and confident. But I knew, on a more logical level, that these were the kinds of compromises we had to make to stay together. If being with me meant he had to coach the men’s team and occasionally miss my games, well, so be it. Could be worse — he could be in England, where he’d see none of my games except via livestream.