The Odd Ballerz

by Ruthie Robinson

  Alex looked up, following Aubrey’s gaze to where Z stood on the field across from them.

  “Yes,” Alex said.

  “Memphis told me that you and Z are good friends.”

  “Coach Z, you mean?” Alex asked.

  “Coach Z,” Aubrey said, smiling, wanting to avoid antagonizing her only source of Z information.

  “We are,” Alex said, glancing in Z’s direction again. “Did Memphis tell you about the rule we have that discourages relationships between coaches and players?” Alex asked.

  “Discourages or forbids?” Aubrey asked, gazing across the field at Z still. He was throwing the ball to Memphis, and in and out of her hands it went. Terrible in everything, except insurance, it seemed, and sad for that to be one’s life, Aubrey thought. She watched for Z’s reaction, surprised to find a smile on his face. It wasn’t huge, small by smile size standards, or maybe not. It was gone so quickly.

  “They will drop him as coach, so he won’t risk it. He loves coaching the team too much, and more than that, he’s good at it,” Alex said.

  “We’ll see,” Aubrey said.

  “Sure,” Alex said, not even going to respond, ’cause really what could she say to someone who was clearly determined to have their way as was always the case with Aubrey. “Handing the ball off, and pitching the ball is next,” Alex said, moving away, leaving Aubrey alone.

  SEVEN

  Alex entered the storage room with the ladders from today’s drill piled high in her arms. It was her turn to help Z with the after camp clean-up. She dropped them in the designated spot on the floor and started in with rinsing out the coolers while she waited for Z to return. He’d gone back out for the last of the equipment and she wanted to talk to him about Aubrey, but more importantly she wanted to talk about her sister.

  She’d seen Memphis out on the fields for the first time today and, wow, how had she not known? She’d heard tales and she’d heard stories from the other coaches and before today had thought it was more than a little embellishing. But nope, it was all true. Her sister had serious issues with her feet. She’d known people that had struggled with athletics but nothing near Memphis’s level of non-athletic ability and that was sad, because she’d really looked forward to playing with her sister in the fall.

  Aubrey was good enough, which was a bummer and totally unfair. She still couldn’t believe she’d tried to warn her about Z, when she should have just stepped aside like one of those bull fighters and let her get burned like the others that had come before.

  “I had no idea,” Alex said, when Z finally reappeared, his hands filled with bags.

  “About what?” he asked, setting the smaller of his two bags on the table near her.

  “My sister.”

  “What? That she has trouble with anything football related, or anything sports related for that matter? Running, throwing or catching,” he said, chuckling. “You didn’t know?”

  “No.”

  “So you wouldn’t know what causes it?”

  “What do you mean what causes it? Like a condition or something?”

  “Yes, like a condition or something. Maybe. I don’t know. The first day, Monday, I thought either she was awful or that all her falling was done intentionally, to get out of your bet. But nope, I’ve since ruled that out. That’s all her that you see. So maybe it’s something else and I thought you might know what,” he said.

  “No, sorry, I don’t have any answers,” she said, pausing in her washing. “How do you explain her time in the forty then, when she’s not falling, that is? She’s fast. Would that be possible if she had an issue?”

  “My point exactly. Usually one is not outstanding in only one thing and then sucks in the rest. She’s improving, though. Small improvements, hard to see, but even if you can’t, you can see that she’s trying. Something is getting in her way, I think. She gets nervous too, anxious is more of what I think she does. How about anxiety? Does she have trouble with that?” he asked, placing the balls in the corner of the room. He’d blow them up tomorrow or Wednesday afternoon.

  “Memphis? Are you kidding?” Alex said, and made a noise. His expression told her he was not. “She’s a rock. Had to be, so no, I don’t think so.”

  “Well, again, she is trying and more focused than I’ve seen before, so that’s something,” he added, looking around the room, hands on hips.

  “She won’t quit. I don’t know anyone beside me that’s more stubborn or hardheaded. So you’ll need to let her go gently if you decide to let her go. Are you thinking of letting her go?” Alex said.

  He smiled. “If you’d asked me that last week, the answer would have been ‘hell yes,’ and you know what that means, given how badly we need women,” he said, chuckling. “She is trying. I can see that. So, no, I’m not going to let her go. If she continues to try, I’ll find a place for her on the team,” he said.

  “She’ll be happy to learn that,” Alex said, smiling, pleased.

  “Let’s not tell her yet. Let her keep trying,” he said.

  “Aubrey asked about you,” she said, satisfied with Memphis and his impression of her.

  “Yeah?” he said.

  “Wants to know the usual; are you single and available.”

  “We have that rule and she’s a nice pick-up for the team. I wouldn’t want to lose that.”

  “I don’t know if that will suffice with that one,” Alex said, chuckling now.

  “It will have to,” he said, and that was the end of that, Alex knew, had seen him shut down many a woman looking for it to be more. Last year they’d all learned the hard way to keep things strictly business.

  #

  Tuesday

  From her perch at the bar, Memphis looked around the restaurant. It was a nice one: French’s, new and expensive, all-white-table elegant. It was a large square-shaped building with two smaller square shaped side rooms to the left and right of it. She was seated in the room to the right, waiting for her date to appear: blind date number four, courtesy of Aubrey’s matchmaking service. Drew Stanford was his name and he was late, and, oh god, who did she remind herself of with that late bit?

  It was all about the testing in this dating game business as for as she was concerned. Wasn’t that the point? Testing to see just who this person was, what they liked, and if it matched up to what you wanted. She preferred to meet for drinks first, and if things went well—mutually agreed upon, of course—then dinner could follow. It was expensive here and if he made a fuss about it, then she was prepared to treat him, or even if he didn’t make a fuss, sometimes she treated them to see what they would do with the fact that she could. All of it was useful information to her.

  “Memphis Jones?” someone with a smooth baritone voice said, interrupting her musings. She turned to look and smiled.

  “Yes,” she said to the smooth voice and the smooth man—her first impression anyway.

  “Drew Stanford,” the deep voice continued with its smooth delivery. “Sorry I’m late,” he said, sliding in to the bar stool beside her. She laughed, and her mind was filled with thoughts of Z and his late phobias, and good thing he wasn’t around or this dude would be toast. And it was not good to be thinking of some other man, she reminded herself.

  “You’re not. I’m early,” she said. He was nice looking, dressed professionally in a dark suit and snappy tie. He had a nice smile, nice teeth, shining brown eyes, and looked to be about her height. The very pretty bartender walked over to them and Memphis watched him interact with her, totally not judging, merely observing. She was past all of that getting angry over can-you-believe-he-looked-at-another-woman stuff. No need to get angry, it was so a better use of her time to ask herself if she wanted to put up with it or not.

  “What can I get for you?” the bartender asked.

  “I’ll have what she’s having,” he said and smiled at Memphis.

  “A white wine,” she said.

  “White wine’s good. I like plain sometimes,” he said, smilin
g. “So, how do you and Aubrey know each other?”

  “We lived next door to each other, go way back to grade school,” she said, still running his “plain” word choice through her brain.

  “That is way back,” he said, chuckling.

  “You?” Memphis asked, watching as he pulled his wine glass toward him with one hand while sliding his credit card with the other towards the barkeep.

  “These two,” he said, his finger moving to indicate he was paying for them both.

  “Thanks, you didn’t have to,” Memphis said.

  “Yes, I do,” he said and smiled. “I met Aubrey when she was looking to purchase one of our cars, which she didn’t. I lost out to a Mini Cooper, I’ve since learned,” he said, shaking his head. “So you sell insurance too? We should exchange business information in case I have a client with insurance needs,” he said.

  “Sure, that would be great,” she said, handing over her business card. He did the same. “So Aubrey mentioned me? It’s been a while since she was looking for a car.”

  “Why did it take so long for me to call you is your question,” he said, and smiled. “No reason, just got busy, with family and life, you know?”

  “I do,” Memphis said, smiling.

  “So what else should I know about you, besides insurance seller and good friend to Aubrey?” he said, settling back in his chair.

  “You and I are married and I’ve developed breast cancer. I have to have a mastectomy.”

  “Excuse me, what?” he asked, surprised, and choking on his drink.

  “It’s a thing I do, a game I play where I ask questions. It can seem a little strange at first to some, I’ll admit, but it works for me, oddly enough,” she said, and smiled. And yes, she was well aware that it was off-putting to some men, made her seem a little strange, but she was what she was and was done apologizing for her way of getting to know men. They either got her or they didn’t and she’d rather know that sooner than later. All else was a waste of everybody’s time.

  “Just jump right in, I see,” he said, laughing. “You have to admire that,” he said, his laughter dying down to chuckles. “You don’t think it’s too early for game playing?”

  “I’m weird that way. You want to play or not?” she asked and smiled.

  “Sure, as long as you can handle the answers, then I’m all yours,” he said, chuckling.

  “So, what would you do if I had to have a mastectomy?”

  He laughed. “Actually I can speak from experience. My wife actually had breast cancer and it was a scary time for the both of us.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, and squeezed his hand. “She didn’t survive?”

  “What? No, she beat it,” he said, chuckling.

  “So you’re divorced?”

  He was quiet for moment, before his gaze slid over and locked with hers. “No, I’m not divorced.”

  “Oh,” she said quietly. Had not expected that answer.

  “I’m married, but it’s what we, Cheryl and I—Cheryl is my wife—call an open marriage. You know what that is?”

  “You two can sleep with whomever you want and the other person doesn’t mind,” she said.

  “We try not to give each other limits, is a better explanation for it. It makes us much better as a couple, our marriage is stronger when we give each other room to grow and explore.”

  “Right,” Memphis said.

  “We weren’t happy before her cancer scare, had been considering getting a divorce. The cancer helped us realize how much we meant to each other,” he said.

  “I can see that as a possibility,” she said.

  “We’d been together for ten years before the scare and had decided against having children; neither of us wanted them. Afterward we decided to stay together, but to add a little spice… diversity to our marriage. Have each other and have others too,” he said.

  “I see. So did you tell Aubrey this?”

  “No, or I’m guessing you wouldn’t be here now,” he said. It was quiet between them. “I’m pretty good at reading people and I’m betting that this is the end of our night.”

  “True, and I’m not angry, though. You were honest, which I totally appreciate.”

  “I understand. I’m sorry you’re not interested. It would have been nice, I think,” he said, a soft smile at his lips.

  “Me too, and again thanks for being upfront. You didn’t have to be truthful, many people aren’t nowadays,” she said, and smiled again. “If I’m ever in the market for a Lexus, I’ll look you up,” she said, standing.

  “And I’ll still send a few clients your way.”

  “Thanks. I’d appreciate it. Good night then,” she said.

  “Good night,” he said.

  #

  She reached for her phone as soon as she slid behind the wheel of her car, shooting a He’s married text to Aubrey before calling Charlotte.

  “So how did it go?” Charlotte asked.

  “I’m giving up,” she said, frustrated and disappointed.

  “That bad.”

  “Yes… no. He’s married, however it’s an open marriage; both he and his wife are up for it, if I’m game.”

  “I take it that you’re not.”

  Memphis laughed, her anger leaving her just that quick. She could always count on Charlotte to lift her spirits. “You’re not as funny as you think you are,” she said, continuing to laugh. “Maybe this whole marriage deal isn’t for me, you ever think of that?” Memphis asked, starting up her car.

  “No, and you can’t quit. You can’t find him if you’re not looking, that’s for sure.”

  “I read somewhere that it’s best not to look. It’s better to get lost in the building of your life, to live it… grow you, and whomever will show up when the time is right.”

  “You and your theories, all of them limiting in some way, you know that, right? There are so many men in this world, and you only need one. And since we’re on the subject of limits, you shouldn’t bind yourself to a certain skin color either, that’s just ridiculousness,” Charlotte said.

  “And just like that, we are back to the dating-outside-my-race subject again.” She knew where Charlotte was heading. She said it often enough.

  “Yes, that again, and you don’t really have a race. I keep telling you people that,” she said. Well, it was more like she screamed the last of her sentence into the phone. “No one listens. There is no race! Not a biological one anyway. Have you ever done any research on just where and how this race stuff started? Nooo… you just keep eating what’s fed to you, no thought to maybe it’s all a lie, that there is no race beyond the human one.”

  “I didn’t really call you for this, you know,” Memphis said, running her hand over her face, trying to decide which way to turn, leaving the parking lot. Right, she decided.

  “Well, you should have. You are not a cat trying to get with a bird. You are a human trying to get with another human. Why is that so hard to understand? People!! Race is a made-up thing, for Christ’s sake, by people who needed an excuse to take from others or a way to enslave. It’s not true, then or now. We are all humans, all equal under our creator, and you can leave your little race box anytime you want.”

  “Please, Charlotte, not tonight,” Memphis said, laughing. “God, I knew I should have kept my mouth shut. I get it. I don’t need another lecture on race and if you’ll be quiet for a minute, I’d like to tell you something, and, God, I hope I don’t live to regret telling you this. Please don’t make me regret telling you this.”

  “Tell me what?” she asked.

  “I am interested in someone of a different race.”

  “UGH!! See, you’re not listening. No one listens. Please don’t say race again,” Charlotte said, and Memphis groaned. “Someone with different skin color, or if you have to anything, please say a different culture or ethnicity next time,” Charlotte added. She sighed, took a breath. “Okay, now who is this man?”

  “Alex’s coach?”

 
“Zachary Sloan. Really? He’s a cutie. I noticed him last year right off. He has a lot going on, that one does. I actually thought about him for you, would have mentioned it to you, but it would have been a waste of time, that skin color thing again. Does he know of this interest?” Charlotte asked.

  “No, and from what I’ve seen, I’m not his type. Aubrey is.”

  “Maybe. You never know. Most men just like women. We are the ones that rule ourselves out most times, that box thing again. Too long believing the slave master’s rhetoric regarding our value and our options.”

  “Please don’t start up again.”

  “Okay, fine. So what’s the problem? You can flirt, can’t you?”

  “They have a rule. No romantic anything between players and coaches.”

  “Who has a rule?”

  “The Ballerz,” Memphis said.

  “Trust me, from what I’ve heard, you probably won’t be playing with them for long.”

  “So harsh are my sisters to me,” Memphis said, laughing. “Anyway, I don’t know if I would work with someone that takes football playing so seriously.”

  “It’s what he did for a living. It’s probably hard for him not to. I didn’t tell you this the other night but since we’re on the subject of football, I’m glad you’re trying something new, however hard. I thought you would have quit by now, especially after you found out about the camp and the little boys. But you didn’t. Did I tell you that you’re my hero?” Charlotte sang the last of her sentence. “So try with the coach. What do you have to lose?”

  “My pride.”

  “I hear you. I mean, if you lose that, then what’s to keep you warm at night?” she said.

  Memphis laughed. “Okay, crazy militant woman, and my life isn’t as bad as you and Alex make it out to be.”

  “Your life’s not bad. You could be into worse things beside work, and what else is it that you do?” Charlotte asked, laughing. “Oh, nothing,” she added, laughing again. “I happen to know, however, that you want more. That’s what this evening was about, right?”