Loving Asher

by Maya Rossi

  He caught my jaw and spoke quietly. “Dan was a striker, you are a midfielder. Who’s to say Dan would have eventually played football?”

  I stiffened, angry at that assertion. “He would have. And he would have won many championships, led his team to victory, won the world best player. He was that good.”

  “Who’s speaking right now? You or your father?” He cupped my cheek. “Check the stats. How many ten years olds grow to play pro ball? A small percentage. But that’s not the point,” he continued when I tried to butt in, “you’re you and he’s dead.”

  With a quiet sob, I pressed my face to his chest, struggling with the force of my emotions. We sat there for a long while. The club offices went silent. Asher’s breathing slowed to a crawl and my eyes began to drift close.

  “I won’t be in the next game, almost didn’t make this one.”

  “Okay. Do--do you need me there with Rach?”

  “No, she contacted her guy.”

  Surprise pulled me from his arms. “What, how?”

  He shrugged self-consciously. “I might have tracked him down.”

  “Does he remember her?” I asked slowly. How would anyone forget Rachel? If he did, maybe he was never the man she thought he was.

  Asher’s eyes drifted to my mouth and away. “He’s a cool guy. He’s with her at the hospital.”

  “How do you feel about that?”

  He blinked, eyelids heavy, features somber. “Rach’s gonna die.” His arms tightened briefly and released. “I hoped to have kids and the white picket fence. I wanted to live before I died--”

  “Unlike Dan,” I croaked.

  “He never stood a chance. Never saved for the Messi autographed shirt he wanted, never kissed Abby--”

  “He wanted to kiss Abby?” I laughed, the joy trickling out like a tap not locked all the way.

  Asher smiled. “Desperately. He went on and on until I got tired of hearing it, you know how he is.” His smile disappeared. “That’s why I rushed Rach into marriage. I knew she wasn’t ready. Hell, we never even got to have the children discussion.”

  It was my turn to hold him close. So he said into my shoulder. “I thought I was doing something noble, caring for my sick wife but she was looking out for me. She knew.”

  A cold tingly excitement grabbed hold of my muscles even as hope filtered in through the cracks of my heart. “Knew what?”

  “That I loved someone else.”

  Chapter eight

  Extra time. I glanced at the overhead clock. The assistant coach, Jane Parrish sat in the technical area, scribbling furiously. Asher’s seat was conspicuously empty. The news of Rachel’s illness and death had sent shock waves through the sports community. To my surprise, the players turned to me in their confusion. How long has Rachel been sick? How did Asher manage to get us to the finals with Rachel sick? Would he be at the game?

  Now we were losing while Asher mourned his wife somewhere. At the end it wasn’t even the cancer that ended Rach’s life. She passed away in her sleep. A minor stroke, the doctors said.

  I was pulled to the present when Dany jabbed my side. I glanced at Jane and began getting ready to get on the pitch. Before I went in, Jane grabbed my arm.

  “Georgie…”

  As she trailed off, I leaned down to catch her eye. “I know.”

  Embarrassed but determined, she clapped her clipboard to my back lightly. “Let’s do him proud.”

  Within eight minutes of getting in, I took control of the midfield. I channeled my grief over Rach’s death, the end of dreams and my love for Asher into the next three minutes. Our break came towards the end of extra time. A move we had practised over and over in training, began with me and ended with Lane. Suddenly, the ball was in the net.

  Later, as tears flowed down my cheeks and champagne soaked my jersey, I would remember Rach’s words. Did I play for my father, Dan or myself?

  When Lane handed the cup over so I could raise it above my head for the official team photo, I shook my head. “You were always the better captain, Lane.”

  She flushed, the ripe familiar smell of sweat, grass and gum clinging to her. “Thank you.”

  I laughed because she never tried to deny what a shit captain I was. “You deserve this.” I brushed sweat off my forehead. “Now go enjoy the heck out of this.”

  “You won’t hit the club with us?”

  “I want to check on coach then hit the sack, in that order.”

  Lane fingered the black bands we all wore in Rachel’s honor. “It’s kinda weird to mourn a woman I never met. She never attended the official introduction when Coach started. Now I know why. What kind of person was she?”

  “Sweet,” I said immediately.

  Before Lane would reply, Peggy hugged her from behind. “Woohoo, we did it.” She shot me a cool nod over Lane’s shoulder.

  It wasn’t the time to rehash whatever issue Peggy had with me. I made a stop at the nursing home to visit my father. Despite the failure of previous visits, the metallic coldness of my winners medal against my skin roused my hopes.

  Father was in the garden playing cards with another resident. “What a sight for sore eyes,” the elderly woman he played with crowed. “Pull up a chair, come on.”

  Surprised, I pulled up a chair and sat. Father looked good with color in his cheeks and his white beards trimmed.

  I learned the woman, Mrs Tracht was eighty-seven, a great grandmother and loved clubbing. As we talked, I stole quick glances at father, hoping he would say something, anything. He remained silent, pointedly ignoring me until I rose to leave.

  “Come, come, give me a kiss,” Mrs Tracht urged, “I hoped you’ll come again but something tells me this visit is your last.”

  I nodded, inhaling the smell of roses that clung to her as I pressed a kiss to her cheek. I fiddled with my handbag, my gaze flickering over to my father. He wasn’t a bad man, just a father who didn’t know what to do with a girl. He still smelled faintly of old socks and the menthol cigarettes that were his favorites. He even had on the old face cap from Dan’s old junior team.

  It was the sight of that cap and its connection to Dan that cemented my decision.

  “I’m retiring after this season,” I blurted.

  Father visibly started. His shoulders stiffened and then fell. He still didn’t turn around, couldn’t even look me in the eye.

  I smiled at Mrs Tracht and took my leave, determined never to return.

  During the following months, I enrolled in the nearby state university, started a blog and learned how to ride a horse in a nearby farm. It was the idyllic existence, the life I always dreamed of. If my mind slipped to Asher now and again, I refused to think too much of it.

  I waited.

  On Thursday morning, I went for a run. As my feet pounded the pavement, I recalled watching Dan and my father on their runs. How devastated father must have been when Dan died. I was so engrossed in my thoughts that I took the next turn without looking and collided with a woman and her son.

  “Shit, sorry.”

  After a hundred apologies, I grabbed a seat by the park bench to catch my breath. I was hunched over, breathing deeply when a familiar bark caught my attention. Lacey jumped on me, tail wagging furiously. I laughed, returning her show of affection by scratching behind her ears. Black mirror shine dress shoes appeared in my vision. Asher.

  “Hello Georgie.”