The Odd Ballerz

by Ruthie Robinson

  “Which was?” he asked.

  “To push me off to the side, put me in a category in your mind, stopped expecting anything from me. That’s the worst of what people do when they label you. You would have turned the lights out and moved on, moved me to some place where I would do the least amount of damage. Am I wrong?”

  “Defensive much?” he said, chuckling.

  “You don’t know my life, and yes, I’m defensive. It’s hard not to be. I saw what was in your eyes before you learned of my issues and more so after you did,” she said with force. That was years of people and their expectations escaping.

  “And what do you think you saw?”

  “Pity and I don’t like pity. Actually I hate pity and sympathy,” she said, and blew out a breath, looking away to try and rein in her emotions. “Dyspraxia is what I have, or a mild form of it was what I was diagnosed with last year. It is the explanation for my clumsiness. Dyspraxia is the clinical name for childhood clumsy, elementary and middle school clumsy. It was worse then, if you can believe that.”

  “You can take a deep breath now, Jones, and maybe even let go a little of that chip. And it wasn’t pity, what you think you saw. Can your dyspraxia be fixed?” he asked.

  “With work, I’m told. Occupational therapy if I wanted.”

  “You have problems with anxiety too?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “Medication?”

  “Not if I can help it. Really, it’s mostly under control, doesn’t impact my daily living anymore,” she said, and released another breath. “This whole football playing thing makes me nervous. Being on display in front of everyone makes me nervous, and it’s a fight sometimes for me to not live my past.”

  “What does that mean, live your past?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Alex doesn’t know?” he asked, letting her non-answer go.

  “She does now, but no, not before.”

  “Okay then,” he said.

  “Okay then what?” she said.

  “Nothing,” he said, chuckling. “Ease up a little, Jones. It’s not that serious. I mean, it is and it isn’t.”

  “Spoken from someone who has always had it easy, I bet. Good looks, good body, good in sports; pick a thing and I’ve bet it’s come easy for you,” she said, looking away before she met his gaze again. They’d reached the back door of his home again and he followed her inside. “Sorry,” she said, turning to face him. “You didn’t deserve that. It’s old anger that you’ve done nothing to earn.”

  “Apology accepted,” he said, watching her. “Why try then?”

  “What?”

  “Why try then? I know you’ve been trying at camp. Not the first day, but every day since then. I can tell and you are getting better. Small increments as I’ve said before, but it’s progress, Jones,” he said, moving around her to lead her down the hall again.

  “The bet, remember, and you said I would make the team, that everyone that showed up would, so really it was less pressure after that. I might as well try,” she said to his back. “I’m competitive in other parts of my life. I’m one of the top insurance agents in the state, and I didn’t say that to blow myself up, but really I’m that good. I’ve managed to conquer my nerves, my anxiety, in that area, right? And now, this thing I thought I was awful at, or that I was most afraid of, maybe it’s time to get past that too. No, I would not have put myself at your camp. However, now that I’m here, it’s not so bad, or as bad as it used to be, as bad as I expected, or it doesn’t hurt as much… maybe I’m less sensitive about it, I don’t know,” she said, taking a breath. She laughed then. “That was a lot of words, huh,” she said. “What I’m trying to say so poorly is that I’d like to see if I could be more. I like the thought of Memphis the athlete.”

  “I see,” he said, staring into her eyes, a small smile at his lips.

  “I don’t want someone telling me what I should or shouldn’t do.”

  “We’re talking Aubrey now?”

  “Yes, we are. She and I have been friends for a long time. Elementary school, and she lived next door to me growing up and looked out for me. She’s seen that part of me, the little girl that was terrible at everything, and she knows me, but not in everything, and I find myself wanting to prove a point.”

  “To her?”

  “To me, always me,” she said.

  “And that point is?”

  “That you never know with people, that the ones you least expect can turn out to fool you.”

  “Good, then,” he said and she had no clue to what he was thinking. She thought the shades were the things he hid his thoughts behind, and no, it wasn’t. It was his face that he kept his thoughts hidden behind.

  “Were you really going to kick me off the team?” They had reached the living room and back where they started.

  “Yes, I had considered letting you go, especially after the first day, but that’s long gone now. If you continue to try, I’ll find a spot for you,” he said.

  “Not like a charity case or something?”

  “No, not like a charity case or something.”

  “Good, ’cause that’s the last thing I’d want. I can take being cut if I’m not good enough, just so you know.”

  “Got it,” he said, smiling.

  She smiled, calmer now, lighter now, having let go of that anger. “Something smells delicious. Your dinner?” she asked.

  “Yep.”

  “Some would say the polite thing to do would be to extend an invitation to one’s visitor,” she said, Charlotte’s advice about flirting coming to mind. Go strong or go home.

  “Is that your way of asking to have dinner with me?” he asked, chuckling, meeting her eyes, humor in his gaze.

  “No,” she said.

  “Good, ’cause we have this rule, the Ballerz have this rule, right? Nothing romantic between players and coaches.”

  “Right, so you’re having romantic thoughts about this player?” she asked, chuckling to save face, ’cause, dang, that was not the answer she’d hoped for.

  “No, it was meant as a warning in case you were,” he said, smiling.

  “I’m not, I wasn’t. I’m not really sure why I said that, but anyway,” she said, searching for a face-saving way out, “you’re safe.” She smiled strong to cover some major embarrassment.

  “We’re both safe. How about that?” he said, and it was his turn to chuckle.

  She laughed. “Better. I feel less like an idiot now. Dang, that was harsh. If I was having any romantic thoughts about you, they are officially shut down.”

  He laughed and, man, he was handsome when he laughed.

  “You get that a lot?” she asked, chuckling still.

  “What?”

  “Women coming on to you.”

  “Was that what you were doing?” he asked before he chuckled. “More than I’d like,” he added and smiled. “So would you like to stay for dinner now that we’ve settled the romantic thing between us?”

  “No, but thanks anyway, and that was a nice way to ease my pain. Thank you. I don’t feel as bad now,” she said, chuckling. “No, really, you’ve been a huge help tonight, helping me to find my phone, listening to me rant about my issues, but the biggest thing you’ve done for me is to be different from every other coach I’ve had. So a huge thanks for that.”

  “You’re welcome,” he said, his gaze tangled up with hers. Clear and calm was that gaze of his. “Good night, Jones,” he said.

  “Night, Coach,” she said, and slipped out his front door.

  He stood on the front porch and watched her walk to her car. More of those lights came on so she could see the way back. She waved just before she slid behind the wheel, and he returned it, glad she’d shared that part about herself with him.

  He’d watched the anxiety on her face earlier at her friend’s words, followed by hurt, and for some reason seeing hurt on Jones’s face affected him in a way he couldn’t explain. It was the same hurt that had silent
ly roped him into standing beside her earlier at camp, coaching her through her last attempt at the forty-yard run.

  He’d been in her shoes, so he also understood the anger she felt at people who doubted and or tried to make you feel small because you couldn’t do fill-in-the-blank. Aubrey was interesting and worth watching, and probably not in the way she’d hoped. Yeah, he’d met her kind before too.

  How to help Jones? Could he help her? He wanted to try, so that was a start. But it was also more than that, more like a feeling of kinship, this thing he was beginning to feel for Jones. He desired her lovely assets and fine form, true. But he was most impressed with the woman who showed up to his camp, prepared to suck but unafraid to show it to whoever. What courage and strength that required and worthy of a more considered study for something other than training. Perhaps Jones could fill the spot for something he’d been searching for and for a while now, something he’d started to give up on finding. He smiled and went back inside.

  #

  That hadn’t been unpleasant at all, Memphis thought, turning on to the main road that would lead her back to the city. It had been good to talk to him away from camp, alone without the younger boys looking on. So he knew her issues now. It would be interesting to see what he did with that knowledge. She had not seen pity in his gaze this evening, so that was a start.

  She’d had enough of pity and sympathy to last her lifetime. She’d take the snickers and laughter, the whatever, any day of the week over the tragic, isn’t it, the thing about the Jones girls, with the father dying, leaving them with all his debts and the mother who just gave up on life. Poor little Memphis and her sisters, a phrase she heard often growing up. So no, she wasn’t much into pity and or sympathy.

  She was pulling onto the freeway now on her second trip home, with her thoughts all over the place: darting around from thoughts of him, all positive, wishful thinking; to Aubrey, and how to proceed with her friend—no answers for that—before settling on her sisters. She loved those two dearly, would die for them, so yes, she was protective of them. She had raised them so how could she not be? And yes, she should have told them about her issues.

  Old habits of looking out for them and of not dumping her problems on them had stood in her way and yes, Aubrey was right in that. She still played the mom to her siblings, and probably always would.

  Okay, enough thinking for one night. She turned up the music in her car and tried to relax, to forget about it all until tomorrow, all except for Z. He could stick around in her head for a while, take her home and put her to bed. She smiled at what a nice guy he was turning out to be.

  NINE

  Thursday

  Lunchtime found Alex sitting outside relaxing, under the shade of an umbrella, in one of the hospital’s many patios. She had the early morning shift so lunch was at nine this morning; breakfast for most people. She was saving money and watching what she ate, which meant, bringing something from home.

  She was still digesting what she’d learned about Memphis last night. There was so much she didn’t know about either of her sisters. Things you realized about your parents after you’d grown up a bit. Things like they were human, with their own set of flaws and strengths. Memphis had been more mother to her than her biological one. So she’d always only viewed Memphis, more than Charlotte, through the prism of an adult. One who was always telling her what to do, trying to control her life, the typical teenage stuff. In their home, things had been a tad more difficult with those parents and all that business with them dying. She’d been too busy coping, and not very well, to see that perhaps her sisters were struggling too. She could see that now.

  “Is this seat taken?” Aarik said, interrupting her thoughts.

  Alex didn’t look up, didn’t need to. She knew who it was. It was the nurse, sweating her again. The dude that introduced himself a week ago, using that I-used-to-play-football story, and the same one she avoided when possible. She’d seen him off and on the past week, coming and going, mostly arriving at the beginning of their shifts. They both seem to prefer the early morning hours to work. He’d smile and she wouldn’t. She wasn’t trying to be rude, just adhering to her no men pledge for a while longer.

  “It’s a free world, you can sit where ever you like,” she said.

  “Thank you,” he said, placing his tray in the spot directly across from her before sliding his body onto the bench. He was shorter than her, came to about her shoulders. She was six foot two, so most men were shorter. She preferred taller men or at least her height. She hadn’t really done short before; not sure of the strength factor of short men, which was dumb, now that she thought about it. She had met and dated many a tall man whose strength eventually proved illusory. It was stupid to associate traits to something as innocuous as height. It was right up there with skin color, or eye or hair color and, oh, God, she was turning into Charlotte.

  “Grace?” he asked.

  “If you want,” she said, studying him as he bowed his head, and moved his lips in prayer. He had a pretty smile, white against the smooth dark chocolate color of his skin. He was neatly groomed, wore his afro short on his head, and at the other end of his face, was a mustache and beard combination, that men seemed to prefer these days, also neatly trimmed. Did she say he smelled good? He did. Whatever he wore floated softly and soothingly over her nostrils.

  “How’s your day going so far?” he asked when he was done praying.

  “Okay,” she said.

  “Just okay?”

  “Yep.”

  “So do you like working here?” he asked.

  “I like it enough.”

  “That’s good,” he said and paused, waiting for her to inquire after him. She didn’t. “The Austin Ballerz,” he said, after several more seconds of silence. He chuckled at the look of suspicion she gave him. “I looked them up. You’re the starting quarterback.”

  She smiled quickly, but otherwise remained quiet.

  “How’s football training?”

  “Good.”

  “Are you from Austin originally?” he asked.

  “Yep.”

  “You not going to make this easy for me, are you?”

  “Make what easier for you?”

  “This getting to know you.”

  “Oh, so you consider this hard?”

  He laughed. “No, but I’m trying here, trying to get to know you better. You could help a brother out,” he said, chuckling.

  “For friendship?”

  “I’ll take that. It’s a start, I guess,” he said, and smiled. “I was hoping for more, if I’m being honest.”

  “I’m in a good space here. You don’t know this about me, but I’m getting my life back on track. I don’t want anything else.”

  “Not even friends?”

  “Not even friends, but thanks for the offer. Your breakfast is getting cold so I’m going to leave you to it,” she said, and placed her napkin in her lunch box and zipped it up. “See you around,” she said and stood. A few minutes later she was at the door leading back inside.

  #

  Memphis looked up, not surprised to find Aubrey standing outside of her office door. She’d expected something beside the many I’m sorry, don’t be angry with me texts Aubrey had sent after her many phone calls had gone unanswered.

  “I didn’t hear you come in. Is Amanda at her desk?” Memphis said, proud at her ability to keep her expression and voice neutral.

  “Yes, I told her not to announce me. I knew you were probably angry still. You can hold a grudge longer than anyone I know.”

  “So this is my fault?”

  “No, but, M, really, what did I say that wasn’t true?”

  “Nothing, and that’s not the point. Had I wanted anyone else to know my business, I’d have told them.”

  “No, you wouldn’t have. And you know it. No one’s aware of your problems but you.”

  “What’s wrong with that? It’s my choice. And you know what? This is just making me angry again, s
o let’s talk about something else.”

  “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings,” Aubrey said, taking a seat in front of Memphis’s desk.

  “Okay, I got it. I heard you. Oh, and before I forget to tell you again, no more setting me up on dates,” Memphis said.

  “In my defense, he never said he was married.”

  “I know, he told me. It’s not just that. I just need a man break for a while.”

  “You won’t find one if you don’t look,” Aubrey said. It was more silence from Memphis. “Fine, suit yourself. Billie’s district manager position is going to be posted by the end of the week. It’s official,” Aubrey said.

  “I know. I talked to her.”

  “She’s going to hook you up, right? It’s your job now. No reason for the rest of us to apply.”

  “She’s not like that, and neither am I. I don’t need a hook-up. I can either compete or I can’t. Can you compete, Aubrey?”

  “Of course I can. So you’re going to apply, then?” she asked.

  “I am. I just decided. At this very moment,” she said, offering her friend a glare in warning.

  “I was only looking out for you. It’s what I’ve always done. We are alike in that way. Looking out for our sisters,” she said.

  “We’ll see. Can we talk later? I’ve got an appointment to get ready for,” she said.

  “Sure, see you at camp tomorrow.”

  “Yep,” she said, and watched her friend disappear through her door. She sat back in her chair, listening to the muffled sounds of Aubrey talking to Amanda, followed by the sound of the front door opening and closing.

  #

  Friday

  The last evening of camp found Z standing apart from his fellow coaches in the middle of the field, watching Jones’s car snake its way around his drive. It was headed towards the parking area. It had been nothing but good-natured ribbing and teasing from his coaching buddies since he walked over to talk to her Wednesday evening; not that he had expected anything different.