by Jamie Summer
I should have known. After all, she’d left before. But this felt different. As if she wanted whatever was going on between us as much as I did. So why had she run?
“That was great. If you keep this up in the game, they have to keep you,” Devon said, coming up next to me.
“Thanks for the great pass. That was one of the reasons it worked,” I told him, clasping him on the shoulder. I hadn’t told either Devon or Tyler what had happened with Betty. I could guess exactly what they would say.
That I was crazy for even wanting her the way I did after all these years. I had seen her again... What? Three times? And was ready to just say screw it and go find her? Yeah, that wouldn’t go over well with the guys.
I wanted her with the same intensity I did all those years ago. Nothing had changed. And didn’t that suck.
“Ten more minutes,” Coach called. I continued with my usual warm-up routine. I barely took notice of anyone around me. I was in the zone, the way I normally was right before a game.
I didn’t hear the crowd walking in. None of the thousand people currently seated made any noise to me. It was only me and the ball. The way it had always been. I was always happiest on the field. As a teen, this game gave me the peace and outlet I desperately needed, and it had stayed with me.
“Michaelson,” Coach called. I ran over dutifully. I knew what he was going to say. “You showed great promise in the warm-up, so show those suit-wearers you deserve to be here. I know you can do it; otherwise, I wouldn’t have picked you for the team in the first place. You have everything you need right at your fingertips. Concentrate on that. I would hate to lose you.”
His little pep talk motivated and scared me at the same time, but I decided to focus on the fact that Coach had faith in me.
I followed the others toward the changing room for our last team meeting before the game, trying to free my mind of everything.
Linda, one of the girls responsible for the organizational stuff, stopped me on the way. “Your special guests have arrived. They are seated in one of the private lounge sections.”
It took me a few seconds to remember who I had invited, but then it came back. “Trevor?”
She nodded. “He brought his mom and his grandma along.” She smiled, her clipboard held tightly against her chest. I rarely saw her without it.
“Thank you so much. I’ll check on them later.” She nodded and vanished as I continued toward the changing room.
Coach gave us the usual pre-game speech, and within ten minutes, were walked out, the cheers of the crowd accompanying us. This was one of the only moments I took it all in. The cheers, the yells, the loud noises. I reveled in the fact all these people came to watch a game. It didn’t matter whether they came to see us or the other team. All that mattered was that we shared the love for this game.
When the whistle blew, I shut off everything within me. My sole focus was doing the best I could.
It worked. I caught the balls, had the shots on goal—two resulting in a score—and managed to call forth the kind of play I needed to show everyone I was meant to do this. I felt good, great even, as the whistle rang out, signaling halftime.
“Amazing. Great job, Michaelson,” Coach told me, making a huge smile break out on my face. It shocked me so much, I couldn’t even reply. “Keep doing what you do and there is nothing you need to worry about,” he added. I couldn’t help the surge of pride flowing through me. I wasn’t safe yet, but it was a step in the right direction.
“All right. Everyone move. We only have fifteen minutes,” Coach called and rushed us into the changing room. I spotted Linda on my way in and remembered Trevor. I knew I didn’t have time to actually go up to the lounge, but I wanted to make sure he knew I hadn’t forgotten about him.
I decided to wait until after the halftime talk and followed the team inside, knowing I’d be in trouble otherwise. Thankfully, Coach kept it short and simple. Before long, we were on our way out again. I needed to be fast and not have anyone see me. We weren’t supposed to stray far during halftime.
I glanced up at the stands, trying to find the cubicle. I knew we had a few private lounges, so I was somewhat familiar with the layout. I found the one in question without any issues. Trevor stood outside it, a huge smile on his face. He held several pieces of merchandise, no doubt from the array that was usually given to the visitors in the lounges. He also wore a West Ham jersey. The sight made me smile.
“Gavin, let’s go,” Tyler said, pushing me forward. I sighed. I wanted to look at Trevor some more. His carefree attitude and the way he enjoyed soccer without any hesitation was something I loved to see.
As if he sensed my gaze on him, Trevor’s eyes went from the field to where we stood on the sidelines. When he saw me looking, he gave me a wave, the smile on his face growing even bigger. If that were even possible.
Someone must have called him then because Trevor turned toward the lounge. He said something, then turned back to me with a smile. Someone approached him from behind. I tried to make out the person, but it was hard to with the sun shining directly on them.
A moment later the woman next to Trevor moved slightly, her features suddenly becoming crystal clear.
“Oh shit,” Tyler whispered. I had completely forgotten he stood next to me.
It can’t be. What is she doing here?
Betty stepped up to Trevor and handed him something to drink. A small gesture, but one that opened up a hole in my world so deep, I wasn’t sure I could climb out again.
Trevor. Betty.
It can’t be. It isn’t possible.
Betty was his mother.
Betty was—
“Michaelson, move. Everyone else is on the field already,” Glen, our assistant coach, yelled, the displeasure clear in his voice.
I made it to the middle of the field somehow, but I had no recollection of it. Or any of the remaining game. I tried to focus on playing the best game I could, but the image of Betty and Trevor together broke through my focus time and time again.
Coach yelled at me more than he probably cared for, but there was no way I could push everything to the back of my mind and focus on the game. I couldn’t. Not after this.
“Get over here,” Coach called when the referee was busy with a foul on the other side of the field. I jogged over, ready for the verbal beating I would no doubt get.
“What is going on with you? Your first half was first class, now it’s like you’re stuck in the shitter again. You need to get a grip. I can’t keep you based on one performance. You need to show them what you got. Misplaced passes or shots way off goal won’t help with that. So do me a favor and focus.”
I listened, but my eyes drifted up to the lounge. Trevor still stood there, a confused expression on his face as he watched me talk with the coach. I was sure he was as irritated as the rest of the stadium as to why my performance had shifted for the worse.
Part of me wanted to yell at them and tell them to go screw themselves, while the self-preservation part of me knew I needed this game in order to stick around for a while.
Trevor gave me a thumbs up, as if motivating me. Strangely enough, it did just that. Just a little bit, but it did nonetheless. I waited for anger to accompany the sight of him, but found none. For now. I honestly didn’t know what I felt.
But I wanted to play better.
For Trevor.
Which was crazy.
“Back on the field,” Coach told me. I ran off, taking whatever small motivational burst I had gotten and trying to bring it to my game.
There were twenty minutes left, and I needed to make them count. In my attempt to push any questions to the back of my mind, I searched for the ball, making it my sole focus. While Trevor’s face popped up every once in a while, it urged me on instead of making me wonder about what I had witnessed earlier.
I fought harder, ran faster and been more goal-oriented than I had before. It worked. Almost as if something inside had been repaired, making it possibl
e for me to focus on bringing the game I needed to. It still wasn’t the same performance from the first half, but it was better than the crap I had pulled after halftime.
I managed to score one more goal, as did Tyler. In the end, we won 4-1, a result I was more than happy with.
“Great job, Gavin. I’m proud of you.” Coach rarely called me by my first name, so I knew the importance of those words. Maybe my career wasn’t over just yet.
Others on the team came over and told me they were happy to see me back, and hope filled me with every word. None of the managers did, obviously, but I saw their approving looks from the stands.
“Man, am I glad to see you back,” Devon said, a smile on his face. “What an awesome game.”
I nodded with a grin. “Not bad for someone about to be kicked off the team,” I replied. Tyler joined us, punching me in the shoulder.
“Yeah, right. No way they can fire you after this,” he said. I hoped he spoke the truth. I couldn’t accept anything else.
“We’ll see. I’m not out of the woods yet,” I cautioned them, but they merely waved me off, apparently sure my performance today saved me from being booted.
“Always so negative. Cheer up, buttercup,” Tyler added.
“Hey, Linda.”
My head snapped up. The smile on her face vanished as she met my gaze, making me wonder what was up.
“Hi,” she said to Devon. “Gavin, Tyler.”
“Linda, are my guests still up in the lounge?” I asked, trying not to let any of my emotions shine through. Not that I knew what those were at this point.
“They are. Last I saw, they were heading to the buffet. I heard the mom say she wanted her son to get the full experience, which meant eating everything he could fit into his stomach.” There was a softness in her voice that made me wonder how long Linda had been watching them.
“Okay. I’m gonna check on them before I change. I don’t want to miss them.” I knew my voice sounded cold, detached. Tyler and Devon give me curious looks, but I ignored their questioning stares and went over to the stairs leading up to the lounges.
I didn’t hear anyone. Didn’t see anyone.
My sole focus shifted from the game that possibly decided my career to the moment that could possibly change my life.
Betty
Ever since Trevor had told me Gavin was going to leave him tickets for the game, I had tried to get him to back off going. Not a chance. He had been so happy to meet some of his favorite stars—favorite stars I didn’t even know he had—that it was like talking to a wall every time I tried to bring up the topic of skipping the game.
My mom had given me curious looks all week long, but every time she asked me about it, I thought of another reason why going was a bad idea. She didn’t believe me, I could tell, but it was better than telling her the real reason I wanted to skip it.
As Saturday came around, I was a nervous wreck. I had no idea how those private lounges worked, but I knew the chances of Gavin showing up there were higher than if we were just spectators in the stands.
I still wasn't sure what to think. About us. About him being here. About what happened the other day. Every time I tried to make sense of it, I came up blank. The only thing I was certain of was the warm and fuzzy feeling that overcame me every time I replayed the kiss in my mind.
That couldn’t be a good sign, could it?
“Mom, do you have my shirt?”
I turned toward Trevor standing in the doorway, looking at me expectantly. We had gone shopping and had stumbled upon a row of West Ham soccer shirts. Trevor had begged me to get him one, and I had reluctantly agreed. I ran out of good reasons why he couldn’t. Thankfully, my mom wasn’t with us because the moment she would have seen Trevor pick one out with Gavin’s last name and number on it, she’d have given me a look I would much rather live without.
There was no going back now.
“It’s over there,” I said to him, pointing to a pile of laundry I had done the day before. I watched how Trevor riffled through it until he came to the shirt in question. His eyes shown with so much excitement, it was hard for me to keep the overwhelming emotions at bay.
If he only knew whose shirt he would wear.
Sometimes I wish things were different. That I would have made different choices. I was young. Stupid. Felt all alone. I should have told Gavin, should have admitted to him what I had a hard time admitting to myself in the first weeks.
But I was too chicken.
I couldn’t.
“Thanks, Mom,” Trevor said with a wide smile, then walked out.
That was hours ago. The memory of that happy face was nothing compared to the ecstatic boy standing next to me now. The game was over, and Trevor had enjoyed every second of it. He had yelled, cheered and booed with the crowd, and I didn’t think I had ever seen him as happy as he had been in that stadium.
Just like his dad.
“Mom, can we do this again? This was awesome,” he wanted to know. I was about to tell him we would have to see when I heard someone approach from the inside of the lounge. There was an inside area, as well as an outside standing option. Trevor and I had spent the past several minutes enjoying the rush of the end of the game.
“Excuse me. Sorry for the interruption,” the same lady who had led us up earlier said, a soft smile on her lips. “I merely came to tell you that you still have the lounge for another hour, so if you want to grab another bite to eat or maybe just sit out here for a little longer, that’s perfectly fine.”
I stared at her. I had no idea how those things usually worked, but that seemed rather gracious.
“Thank you. We appreciate it,” I told her, walking over and shaking her hand. She merely waved me off.
“No need to thank me. It’s always a pleasure to see people who have a passion for the game as much as the players themselves,” she said, then smiled and left.
Trevor and I decided to get some more food, then sat at one of the tables on the inside. My mom joined us, after having had a conversation with one of the security guards. I wasn’t even going to ask.
“This is so good. Mom, can you make it at home at some point?” Trevor asked. I glanced at the food on his plate. I didn’t have the slightest idea what he was eating, so it would be hard to replicate it at home.
“It’s Shepard’s Pie,” a male voice behind us said, making my back straighten instantly.
No. No. No. I’m not ready. No. Please, God.
“Hi!” Trevor almost screamed. He pushed his chair back and jumped up, almost knocking his chair over. I turned my head to watch them.
“Hi, buddy," Gavin greeted him, then gave him a high five. While he tried to smile, I saw the tension all over his face. Trevor wouldn’t have noticed, but I had spent years memorizing everything about Gavin Michaelson.
“Well, hello.”
I had completely forgotten about my mom. I groaned inwardly.
“Mrs. Caster,” Gavin greeted her with a nod. “Good to see you again. I hope you’re doing well.”
“Thank you, yes. Things are going quite well.”
“That was an awesome game. Thank you so much for letting me watch it from up here. It was incredible. When I’m older, I want to play soccer,” Trevor said, the same excitement he had shown throughout the game still in his voice.
Gavin’s gaze went from Trevor to me and back again. I waited for him to start yelling. To fuss. To do something that would make this situation more uncomfortable. If that happened, we would be out of there in a second. Trevor was too young for this.
When Gavin refocused on Trevor, there was a gentle smile on his face. He even kneeled down to be at eye level with my son.
He isn’t only my son, though, is he?
The realization made cold sweat run down my back. Trevor was as much Gavin’s as he was mine. Seeing them together like this made that abundantly clear. They had the same hair, the same eyes. Some of Trevor’s gestures were Gavin’s.
“My mom used t
o tell me I could be whatever I wanted to be. I knew soccer was a game I wanted to pursue. I trained hard every day, and eventually got here. I don’t regret one single thing,” I heard Gavin say. Trevor was glued to his every word. “So if you want to be a soccer player, I say go for it. There are plenty of opportunities in this city.”
“Can I try out for West Ham?” Trevor asked, sheer awe in his voice.
“If you want to when you’re older. I know they also have youth teams.” I tried to find bitterness or anger in Gavin’s words, but failed.
“Mom, can I?” Trevor’s shining eyes turned to me, as did Gavin’s. I felt my heart lodged in my throat. How could you be so overwhelmed with several emotions all at once? I was scared and excited, terrified and thrilled by their conversation.
God, what a mess.
“Trevor, how about we go outside and watch how they clean up the field?” my mom suggested, and I wasn’t sure whether I should thank her or yell at her. I saw Trevor wasn’t sure if he wanted to, now that Gavin was here, but it was Gavin who put him at ease.
“I’ll still be here,” he assured him. I just hoped that were true after whatever conversation we were about to have.
My mom gave me an encouraging smile before taking Trevor’s hand and leading him outside.
Silence descended upon the room as they closed the door behind them. I wanted to fill it, but had no idea what I was supposed to say. I’m sorry didn’t seem like enough at this point.
I watched Gavin for a while, trying to read the expression on his face. I failed miserably.
“He’s a great kid,” he eventually said, emotion evident in every single word he spoke.
“He is.”
“How old is he?” The question was more loaded than I wanted it to be.
“Five.”
“Five…” Gavin let the number hang in the air. Was it only me, or had the oxygen in here become really thin? I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans and tried to calm the erratic beating of my heart. It was only a matter of time before I’d have a heart attack. I was sure of it.
“He’s five,” Gavin repeated. I merely nodded. “God, Betty.” His eyes met mine, but instead of the anger I expected, all I could make out was hurt. And that cut deeper than anything else. “You lied to me. You stood in front of me and told me you were leaving to take care of your mom. Your mom. Not our child.” His voice had grown louder, but he was more controlled than I would have expected him to be. Hell, more than I would have been in his shoes.
