by Fox Brison
But they weren’t the only ones benefitting from the experience, I was too. I now appreciated Skye’s dedication and love of teaching, and working with kids was certainly something I wanted to pursue once my playing days were over.
***
It wasn’t unusual for me to squeeze in a quick forty winks after training and before going to the youth centre, and today wasn’t an exception. However, oversleeping was. I barely had time for a shower before Abby was honking downstairs. And by honking I meant her horn, not that she held a particular malodour. I waved out of the window so she’d know I heard. Jesus, Helen Keller would have heard it’s like she’s trying to wake the dead, and hurried into the bedroom, nearly tripping in my haste to pull on my trackers. Fuck! In the middle of racing to get my kit together my phone beeped. “Not now,” I muttered and although I could have waited and read it in Abby’s car, something in my stomach told me it was important.
Desperation sharpened your instincts to a far finer point than any other emotion, except perhaps fear!
It was a message from Sue Johnstone, my old coach from university. There was no reason for her to be texting me, in fact I hadn’t heard from her since a few days after my injury when she told me I was an utter fool for risking my career skiing, and to never forget what a privileged position I was in. I took her words to heart, I always had.
I opened the text and read the message, before reading it again, a little slower the second time around. Who am I kidding? I read it twice as quick I was so damned excited, and without a second thought I fired off a response. Hell yeah I wanted to play for Sunderland this winter! I flew down the stairwell, jumping the last two steps, and climbed into Abby’s electric car. “Someone’s in a better mood,” she teased. “Skye there to kiss your boo boos?”
“If you’d been upstairs a minute ago, then you would have really seen me excited. I was shaking my booty like Beyoncé on speed.”
“I don’t want to know what you and Skye get up to thank you very much.”
“She wasn’t there; she’s still at work.”
“Then I definitely don’t want to know what you were up to!”
“Oh yes you do! My old uni coach is the new manager at Sunderland Ladies and she wants me on loan over the winter. How amazing is that!”
“I’m assuming that’s rhetorical.”
“Totally,” I replied cheerfully.
“That’s awesome news, Nat, for you at least. For me, not so much.”
“Why not?”
“Because once they see how good you are, they’ll want to keep you and I’ll be stuck with Aimee, who’s basically the pillow princess of strike partners.”
I laughed. “Thanks, Abbs, but I don’t think you have to worry.” However, the loan deal would furnish me with the opportunity to prove a point, to myself if no one else. Confidence is a funny creature, nervously hiding, taking a lot of coaxing and persuasion to come into the light and easily spooked. But when you held it in your hands? God it was the best feeling ever.
“Skye’s okay with you leaving?” Abby pulled sharply into the traffic.
I held my breath (and the door handle) as she manoeuvred through the streets. Finally I remembered to breathe again. “Hmm?” My phone impatiently heralded another email, this one was from Johnny.
“Skye? How’d she take it?”
My good mood quickly evaporated. I’d been on such a high I didn’t even think twice about Skye; I hadn’t even thought about her once and that made me nauseous. “I haven’t told her yet.”
“Ah.” One word yet it encompassed many meanings. Judgement. Shock. Disbelief. “Well I’m sure once you both weigh up the pros and cons, she’ll be on board. We’re lucky, Nat, to have such understanding women in our lives, trust me when I say that’s rare.”
That little speech made me feel even more of a heel. “There’s nothing to weigh up, it’s already a done deal, Abbs.”
“Oh.”
Another single word. Two damned letters. She may not have said it but I knew what she wanted to say…‘You’re a bloody selfish idiot Natalie Jeffries.’
And how could I argue with the truth?
Chapter 10
Skye
I was shattered. The first week back at work after the summer break at Durham was torture (Fresher’s week, new classes, new staff) and it was no different here in Boston. This, coupled with the fact I was endeavouring to be upbeat and ultra positive for Natalie, equalled mental exhaustion.
Not a remotely shiny happy person, optimism took me a lot of effort.
It’s difficult to admit I’m a ‘the glass is half full’ kinda gal, but perhaps that’s why I was attracted to optimists as friends, and now as a girlfriend. And Nat was a particularly eternal one too, always nudging and cajoling me into seeing the bright side of the darkest situation.
It was charming.
So I had a wonderful partner, friends who cared deeply for me, I’d reconnected with my family and my career was on the definite up. I should be loving this version of me; Skye Donaghie 2.0, the Natalie Jeffries Years.
If only Nat could win her place back on the team things would be perfect.
I wasn’t thanking God it was Friday, I was singing ‘Halleluiah it’s Tuesday’ because when Nat finished at the youth centre she’d be bringing dinner in with her. Frankly, I was fit for nothing except putting my feet up and watching television, but not before a nice relaxing shower.
Opening the door I shuddered to a stop.
Were the bathrooms at the training ground busted and she invited the whole team over to shower here? I stared aghast at what could have been a scene from the sequel to the movie Twister; clearly a tornado had been through our pokey bathroom leaving a debris field as wide as Texas in its path. There were wet towels strewn haphazardly on the floor, the lid was off the shampoo and a stream of conditioner was sliding down the side of the bottle, forming a congealing puddle in the bottom of the bath.
And the piece de résistance? It appeared that Pablo Escobar’s best customer had been overcome by hayfever; there was talcum powder everywhere. “It’s even of the ceiling, for chrissakes,” I muttered.
Nat and I had timidly dipped a toe in the dating pool, before willingly jumping head first into the relationship ocean – and without water wings. When we surfaced we discovered that living with another person is never easy, and compromises had to be made, neurosis overcome and changes wrought.
And I still hate change with a passion.
Being a neat freak this, I shook my head as I scanned the bathroom again, this had been a major issue when we first started living together. To her credit Natalie had quickly realised, understood and thus improved her bathroom etiquette, so a one off misdemeanour was forgivable, especially as she had a lot on her mind at the moment.
However, I thought sardonically, we might have to introduce a three strikes rule in the future!
***
I heard the door unlock and the fragrant aroma of Thai green curry wafted through the apartment. The clock on the computer was reading nine pm exactly and I couldn’t figure out where the last hour had gone.
Oh right, yes, cleaning up the bombsite that was formerly our bathroom.
“Something smells good,” I called, hearing her bag land with a soft thud. Natalie followed my voice into the spare room that we used as an office. It was barely big enough for a desk and a couple of bookcases, but the upside? I didn’t have to get out of my chair if I wanted a book off the bookcase. Natalie kissed my forehead and put her arms around my neck. I relished these moments, these quiet times when we would hold each other. It was when I felt safest, when all my dragons were slain and my knight came home with her bounty to reassure me everything was right with the world.
“Sorry about the bathroom, I was running late. Forty winks turned into eighty and, well, you know.” Ah my girlfriend, she knew how to get away with murder. A gentle kiss, a whispered sweet nothing in my ear; if she was utterly contrite it was a neck nibble followe
d by a languid tickling of my back.
I think I’d live in a pig sty for a back tickle from Natalie and what it ultimately led to.
“How were the girls?” I powered down my laptop and prepared to give Nat a proper welcome home. A few minutes later I was on my desk with my legs wrapped around her waist.
“They were okay. Dinner’s going to get cold,” she said, preparing to walk away.
“It’ll nuke.” I caught her arm and drew her gently back between my legs. She rested her head on my shoulder and she inhaled. “Just okay?” I prodded.
“Yes. Skye, I need to talk to you about something.”
“What? Nat? Is… is everything alright?” Needing to talk? Never a good start to a conversation. Maybe I should stop being so anal about the bathroom.
“Yes. Look you must be starving, we can talk over dinner.”
***
Unusually, there was a hush as we puttered around the small kitchen; Nat laid the table and I poured her a glass of water and myself a glass of white wine. We moved with such an ease of familiarity it was effortless, before sitting down and tucking in. At least I tucked in. Despite a love of Thai food, Nat was merely chasing her food around the plate.
“So you know how worried I’ve been about regaining my place in the England team?” She finally broke the still.
“Yes. Just give it time-” I was going for supportive, but she quickly interrupted me.
“I don’t have a lot of time, Skye, that’s the problem. I got a message from Sue Johnstone this afternoon.”
“Sue John… remind me, darling?”
“Sue Johnstone, my coach at Loughborough.”
“Ah yes.”
“Anyway, she’s been handed the manager’s position at Sunderland and wants me to sign for them.” Natalie still couldn’t look at me, not properly, the odd shifty sideways glance.
“Nat, that’s wonderful news,” I said joyously and clasped her hand. “You don’t have to worry about what’s going to happen when your contract finishes here and I can go back to Durham. I told you everything would work itself out…” Nat wore an expression that could only be described as fretful. “And I’m guessing from your face I’ve said something wrong?” I was so caught up in the future I never suspected we might have been discussing the present.
“It’s not for next season, it’s for this winter,” she said and smiled. Nervously. Extremely nervously. “I’ll be playing with my England teammates and the selectors can watch me live week in week out.”
“Winter?” I said abruptly. Natalie scrutinised her plate again and the penny finally dropped. “This winter? Let me get this straight, you’re going to be playing in England when we go home for Christmas?”
“No… I’ll have to leave as soon as the season ends and won’t be returning until February.” She reached for my hand which I pulled away, slowly, and she looked shocked by my actions.
“I see.” Taking my bowl to the sink I scraped the remainder of my meal, virtually all of it, into the garbage disposal. My appetite disappeared pretty darned quick after the love of my life, ha! basically announced she’d gone behind my back and made a decision about her future... our future… without consulting me. Even once. My brain and heart were battling each other; massive red flags began to wave, each with their own pithy warning message.
She’s abandoning you.
She doesn’t care as much about you as she does her career.
She’ll find someone else.
She won’t be back.
Once the seeds of doubt were sown I couldn’t stop them from growing and all my deeper feelings rose to the surface, green shoots seeking the heat, not of the sun, but of anger.
I wondered, ever so briefly, if this was some sort of payback for the time I told her she’d been nothing more than a summer fling. I’d acted with the best of intentions, I didn’t want Natalie to forgo her dream of playing football in America for me, and watching her walk out of the cottage on Holy Island alone was the hardest thing I’d ever done. Yet now history was repeating itself like a twisted version of Groundhog Day, but on this occasion there was a distinct difference.
Had she even considered me once whilst concocting this plan?
“Skye, can we talk about this?” There was a quiver in her voice and I tensed. She pushed her chair away from the table, but remained seated, waiting for me to make the next move. Was I being unfair? Was my low self-esteem and irrational fears making this into a much bigger deal than it needed to be?
C’mon, Skye, get out of your head, you know it’s a dangerous place to loiter. “When do you have to give them your answer?” I asked, and when she found the pattern on the lino more interesting than meeting my eye, it was pretty obvious the deal was already done. “I see.” I said evenly.
“Skye, this is my career we’re talking about. I could end up losing everything!” she protested. It was funny, really, because although Natalie and I were different on so many levels, on one we both remained constant; it didn’t take either of us long to go on the defensive. Tonight Natalie won the race.
“No, I get that, I do. What I don’t get is why you didn’t tell me what you had in mind. Christ, you must have been thinking about this for weeks, months.” I threw my hands up in disgust. “Is it because you need a break from me? One foot out of the door, Nat,” I spat sarcastically. Okay, so tonight we were both going full throttle into defensive mode. “Why the hell did I even come out here if you were going to head back to England the first chance you got?”
“Hang on, I never asked you to-”
“Ah the get out of jail free card,” I scowled. “No you didn’t, but you didn’t exactly tell me to go back home, did you?”
“Because you have a great job that you’re happy in! If there’d been no opportunities for you here then yes, I would have understood if you’d gone back to Durham! Wait,” she paused and glowered at me, “doesn’t my career rank as highly as yours? Is that it? I have to watch my best years as a player pass me by, like I’m on a leaky rowboat and the rest of the team are on jetskis.”
I was furious and began pacing back and forth. “So tell me what I’m supposed to do whilst you’re in Sunderland, probably rooming with Harriet Davis? Sit at home and pine until you find time in your busy schedule to grace me with a phone call?”
“Jesus, Skye, I won’t be rooming with Harriet. Is that what all this is about? Harriet?” she exploded incredulously.
“Please, Natalie, give me some credit. Of course it isn’t.” But deep down inside I had to concede, it kinda was. Red flag number three moved into first place – she’ll find someone else, someone better.
“Skye, this is a golden opportunity for me. Golden. It’ll pretty much guarantee my place in the England team for the world cup qualifiers. It’s like…” she tried to think of an analogy, “it’s like you being given the chance to teach at Harvard. Do you get it?”
“Oh I get it, Nat,” the sarcasm was back and taking no prisoners. “Your career is important and I’m simply a scrubby little educator who can teach anywhere. Christ, didn’t you think it would have been nice to ask my opinion, even if you ignored it?” I repeated my earlier assertion.
“I didn’t think there would be a decision to make!” Nat shouted, standing up and leaning her hands on the kitchen table. “Damn it, Skye, no one wanted me! Do you know how that felt? It was demoralising and telling you…” she sat back down, a heavy thump like she was Atlas carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. She continued but the anger was replaced by weariness. “Your pity would only have made it worse. So when Sue made the offer, yes I grabbed it with both hands, because I was terrified she might withdraw it.”
“Pity?” I knelt on the floor at her feet and took her hands in mine. “Nat, darling, I would never have pitied you. I would have supported you. If you can’t tell the difference between the two we might be in serious trouble.”
Tears rose in her eyes. “Shit, Skye, I know I’ve handled this all wrong, and
I know I’ve let you down. It was only after watching the Euros that I gave the option of a loan deal serious thought. I want to experience that again, that feeling of pride when I pull on the England shirt. I’ve been in panic mode about my career, I could feel it slipping away. Every time I sat on the bench was like another nail in the coffin of my confidence.” Her head dropped. “But that’s no excuse. No matter how worried I was, I should have talked it over with you before agreeing to the move. And given the choice between playing for England and losing you, or never kicking a ball again and having you in my life, you know I’d choose you, right?”
“Of course,” I smiled but clearly it was a feeble attempt and wasn’t fooling anyone, least of all my usually perceptive girlfriend.
“You don’t sound too convinced.”
“Nat...” the anger and condemnation fizzled to nothing. How could I explain it to her? I gave myself a mental pep talk… change is as good as a rest, change can give you a new perspective, absence makes the heart grow fonder.
Absence.
How could I tell Nat I felt like she was abandoning me, just like everyone else in my life at one stage or another?
“Natalie, I’m not going to lie, I’m pissed off that you did this without talking to me about it. I feel…” I hesitated and grimaced. I needed to stop this argument before I said something I’d regret; it was fast heading that way, confrontation and the fear she was pulling away from me had that effect. “I feel inconsequential, like I didn’t deserve to be consulted because, hey, I’m nothing but a chubby loner whose idea of a good time is reading about dead monks, and basically you can do what you like because I should be grateful to have you in my life!”
“Skye-”
Christ, I hadn’t meant to blurt out all of my insecurities quite as forcefully. “Seriously, Nat, you need to stop talking now. We need to stop talking now. I can’t cope with this, with these feelings. I thought we were a partnership… it’s a smack in the face to realise you don’t see it the same way.”