Hate to Love You

by Isabelle Richards

  Oh man, she’s plastered. I get her a bottle of water from the fridge. “Drink this or you’ll be praying to the porcelain god all night.”

  She opens the bottle and takes a sip. “I don’t know why she didn’t tell you. Maybe it was a genuine false alarm, maybe she was just trying to get under my infertile skin, or maybe she’s secretly trying to get knocked up to lock you in. I’m not sure what it is, but something doesn’t smell right here. If you really don’t want kids, you should really be more careful.”

  “A few months ago, I would have said that this is just an innocent mix up, but now…. She has dark sides to her that I never noticed before. I don’t know what to believe anymore.” I try to recall the last few months and decipher how this is even possible. “The craziest part is that things haven’t exactly been active on that front. For months now.”

  She crinkles her nose. “Stop right there. I don’t want to know.”

  “Please,” I reply. “I’ve had to listen to you and Spencer talk about baby-making for a year now.”

  She smiles. “But that’s because Spencer and I are awesome. You and Jenna… not so much.” She giggles at her lame joke. The giggles quickly morph into drunken laughter. The laughter stops when she sees the SportsCenter teaser though. She lets out a deep sigh.

  “Are you going down there?” I ask.

  She sighs. “Nope. I am persona non grata. She hates both of us equally now.”

  “Not possible. I will always top the ‘hated by Ari’ list.”

  “Yeah, but she expects it from you. I’m supposed to be the smarter, more sensitive Brennan. I really screwed up this time.”

  I stumble over to the bar and pour another scotch. “You’re Charlie. You don’t screw up. Tell me what happened.”

  She sips the last of her wine, then places the glass on the side table. “I used a picture in my show that I never should have used. Worst best friend ever.”

  I stumble back to the couch and scoot next to her. “What, did she have a hair out of place or something? Jesus, she can’t put her ego aside for her best friend’s show?”

  She sighs and leans her head on my shoulder. “No, that’s not it at all. There’s nothing Ari hates more than being vulnerable, and one of my photos showed her at one of her lowest moments. I thought she looked so beautiful and… I don’t know… so real. Honest. When she lets her guard down, she has this elegance and grace that she never shows the world. It’s my favorite picture of her despite what was going on when it was taken. But I didn’t think about it from her perspective. She felt so exposed, and I should have known better.”

  I take a long sip of my scotch. “You’re right. It was the best one.”

  She rolls her eyes. “You don’t even know which one.”

  “Of course I do,” I reply. “It was the last one in the row. She looks…” I take a deep breath as I try to find a description that can accurately describe the feelings I get when I look at that picture. “There aren’t words for how stunning she looks in that photo. But she would never see it that way. When did you take it?”

  Charlie yanks on the blanket draped over the back of the couch and pulls it over her legs. “Right after she announced her retirement. She put on a brave front, but it killed her. Not so much leaving tennis, but she felt like she’d failed, like she let the injury beat her. She had to accept defeat in more ways than one, and she hates to lose. I exposed all that, and it wasn’t fair.”

  “Her life would be so much easier if she wasn’t always so concerned with protecting her brand.”

  Running her finger along the grooves, she traces the pattern of the cable-knit blanket. “That’s not really it. It’s part of it, but I think the bigger issue is about preserving her privacy. Her whole life has been in front of cameras. Keeping that Arianna separate from the Ari we know and love helps her keep something for herself, something she doesn’t have to share with everyone.”

  I snort. Apparently, I’m so drunk I’m snorting. “I know for a fact that’s bullshit.”

  “How?”

  “I was always asking her to reel it back. Her sponsors were always trying to push her sex appeal, and I couldn’t deal with my girlfriend being out there for any guy to whack off to. She never would. She was always worried about her brand. The brand beat me every time.”

  She pulls her knees to her chest. “She’s always been caught between opposing forces, and you’ve never been able to take the backseat to anyone. I suppose that’s why you guys couldn’t make it work.”

  Closing my eyes, I let my head fall against the back of the couch. “That, and so many other reasons.” This last shot is hitting me hard, and I’m starting to slur. Maybe I shouldn’t be talking about this. “It’s all ancient history now. She’s with Henrik now, and they’re just so happy. The whole world loves them. Arianna and I are over. Over over.”

  “Well, you sealed that deal when you asked Jenna to marry you.”

  I scoff. “She was already gone at that point.”

  Charlie lets out a long sigh. “No, she wasn’t. The media had completely fabricated their relationship. Things with Henrik were completely platonic until you made that announcement the day she retired. The next day, she went to see him in Munich. Two months later, she got engaged.”

  I pat her head. “I think you’re confused, oh intoxicated one. She was with him all the time. Climbing mountains, and white water rafting, and all that other extreme sport shit. They were totally together.”

  “I’m not confused, you’re just wrong. After the second surgery, she was obsessed with getting back on the court. At the rate she was going, she was going to burn out what was left of her knee. We were all worried about her. It wasn’t healthy. Henrik got her to take breaks and live life a little. It was just what she needed at the time, but I swear to you, it was purely platonic.”

  Scotch and regret swirl around in my mind. I’m not sure what I feel worse about. That I mistakenly thought she had moved on, or that she was in dire need of help and I wasn’t there to give it to her.

  Tapping my leg, she gets up. “Scratch the camp out. Sleeping on the floor is for kids that get hopped up on grape soda. I’m a grown up with a very expensive mattress and I will have a bitch of a hangover tomorrow. I’m going to bed. See you in the morning.”

  Suddenly, I’m sober. Well, soberish. My body is screaming for sleep, but my brain won’t relent. I think I seriously fucked up, and I have no idea what to do. There’s nothing I can do. She’s gone, and I’m with Jenna.

  “Brennan! Pull your head out of your hind-end! H-E-double hockey sticks. I think my grandson can throw better than that. Shut the fu-front door and get in my office. Now.”

  Coach and his anti-cursing campaign may be the only thing that puts a smile on my face these days. He’s got a one hundred thousand dollar bet with his brother, the defensive coordinator, that he can go the whole season without swearing.

  Tossing the ball to the Esposito, my backup, I jog across the field. “Sorry, Coach.”

  He slaps the back of my head. “Just get your tuckus in there.”

  I trudge into his office, not looking forward to this ass chewing. We walk in, and he slams the door.

  He points at the chair in front of his desk. “Sit.”

  I sit; he stands. Maintaining his position of power. I’m really in for it.

  I can tell his anger is through the roof because his arms flail and he spits as he yells. “I’ve been hearing ‘sorry, Coach’ from you for three weeks now. The only thing sorry is the way you’re playing. You can’t complete a pass to save your life. You’re running like you’ve got lead in your shoes. You even look like you’ve lost weight. What in the Sam hill is going on?”

  “Coach, I’m in a funk, but I swear I’ll snap out of it.”

  He crosses his arms. “I only see this kind of slump when players are wrapped up in drugs, debt, or women. So which is it?”

  “None of the above. Really, Coach, it’s just a slump. Happens to the best of u
s.”

  “This is the big leagues, boy. We don’t have the luxury of having a slump.” He leans in and pokes me in the chest. “I suggest you figure out what’s at the center of all this and quick, before I have to start looking to your back up to lead this team. Now haul your back side on the field and let me see some of that spark you’re getting paid so well for.”

  Spark? I can’t remember the last time I felt a spark. I can’t remember the last time I felt anything. For weeks, I’ve been numb, empty, hollow. I can’t sleep, can’t eat, and I’ve never played this badly in my life. The fire that drives everything in me has died down to smoking embers.

  Hours after the team has left, I’m still on the field, trying to push myself through this. Sore and tired, I trudge home to Charlie’s. Jenna’s in the driveway, binders from hell in tow. From her scowl, I’m sure I’m in deep shit. This day just keeps getting better.

  “You’re late. I’ve been waiting here for hours,” she snaps. “Why didn’t you pick up your phone?”

  I wave her off as I hobble to the front door. My body is screaming at me for the hell I put it through today. I need to sit in an ice bath. “Practice ran late. Were we supposed to meet?”

  She stomps her foot. “Yes! We’re supposed to watch sample videos from the videographers tonight. I can’t believe you flaked on me. Again.”

  I open the door and motion for her to come in.

  She stops right in front of me. “You know, if you had just moved in with me, we wouldn’t have this problem.”

  “I told you, I didn’t want Charlie staying here alone while Spencer’s in Japan.”

  She glares at me. “So it’s okay for me to live alone, but Charlie can’t be without supervision for a few weeks. Why does that not surprise me?”

  I wave a warning finger. “Don’t start.”

  She storms into the living room and starts to spread out her wedding stuff. I peel off my sweaty shirt as I walk to the kitchen to grab some water and Advil. She follows me, carrying the binders.

  “Jenna, not tonight. I’ve had a long, shitty day, and I can’t talk about wedding crap again tonight.”

  She drops the binders on the table. “Wedding crap! I guess that tells me where I fall on your priority list.”

  The muscles in my legs scream with every step I take, and each high-pitched, whining word out of her mouth makes my ears want to bleed. I’m in no mood for this shit. “Fucking hell, Jenna, could you not play that card every time you don’t get your way? Putting that ring on your finger has changed you, and not for the better.”

  She slaps me. She actually slaps me. “You’re an insensitive prick.”

  Threading my fingers behind my head, I step away from her. I push out a frustrated sigh, trying hard to keep my composure. I choose my words carefully. “My life is coming unglued. You only care about wedding videos for a wedding that doesn’t even have a date yet, and that makes me the insensitive one?”

  She pounds her hand on the table causing the binder covers to pop open from the reverberation. “And whose fault is that? Every time I try to settle on a date, you back out.”

  If I didn’t need to be up at dawn to run tomorrow, I’d pour myself a drink. But no, I get to deal with this crap sober. “The last date you picked was on a Sunday! During football season! You do recall I play football, right? That’s what pays for that rock on your hand, your condo, your Benz, and all your fucking shopping sprees. I probably should show up for that, don’t you think?”

  She grabs the day planner at the top of her pile and throws it at me. “Then pick another date.”

  I duck to the side and let the planner fall to the floor. She looks at the open page. “February 16th. That’s a perfect day.” She picks up the planner and scribbles on the page. “That will give us plenty of time.”

  I bang my forehead against the wall. “I can’t do this right now. Weren’t you listening? Have you not been paying attention? I feel like I’m circling the drain. Why don’t you stop nagging for a minute and listen? This is important.”

  She looks up from her note taking. “What could possibly be more important than us?”

  “First of all, this”—I point at the stack of wedding binders—“is not us. It’s a glorified prom. Second, I’m going through something—”

  “A glorified prom?! Fuck you, Chase Brennan. I don’t care what you’re going through, because you can go to hell.” She walks out the door and slams it.

  “You forgot your wedding shit!” I scream at the closed door.

  A few hours and three quarters of a bottle of Jack later, Charlie comes home. I’ve got a roaring fire going, and it’s probably close to ninety degrees inside, so I’ve stripped down to my boxers.

  “It’s July,” she says. “A little warm for a fire, don’t you think? And is it Pants-Free Friday already?”

  “Nope and nope. I had some binders full of crap that I needed to get rid of. Recycling it just wouldn’t cut it.”

  She points at the bottle of Jack. “I see we’ve abandoned glasses too.”

  I shrug. “It’s better for the environment.”

  “Don’t you have practice tomorrow?” she asks.

  I put my finger to my lips. “Shhhh. We’re pretending that practice tomorrow is canceled. Or at least delayed.”

  “Like a snow day?” She walks to the bar and pours a glass of wine before looking at my to-be-burned pile. “Oh my god, are those the wedding binders?”

  “I’m hoping it exorcizes the demon I call psycho-bride,” I slur.

  She jumps and claps. “So she’s gone! Eighty-sixed? Sayonara, sweetheart!”

  I shake my head. “I’m not thinking about it. Not going to think about her, or any other her for that matter. I have a slump to get out of.”

  Charlie flips open the binders and flips through the pages. “So you didn’t kick her to the curb? Damn. But it’s coming, right? Please, please tell me it’s coming.”

  “I’m avoiding any and all females, present company excluded, until I get my life back on track. According to Coach, I’m sparkless. I’ve got to find a way to get my spark back, and I’m not going to get it back by being suffocated by estrogen.”

  She sits next to me. “Try flying to Brazil. I can think of someone who’ll put some pep in your step.”

  I take another long pull off the bottle of Jack. “Nope, she’s someone else’s spark now. He’s at the height of his career, and I’m sparkless. It’s bullshit. She was supposed to be my spark, but she never loved me. She loves him. She’s probably been in love with him since they first met. I totally called it. He’s a fucking spark-stealer.” Fuck, I’m babbling.

  She wraps her arms around me. “Oh, honey. I hope you remember this conversation tomorrow. Then maybe we can talk about getting your life back on track. But I’m guessing you won’t remember a damn thing, and you’ll go back to pretending you aren’t still in love with her.”

  Sounds like a good reason to drink some more, so I do. “I need to find my way out of this slump.”

  She pats my chest. “I’ll help you through this.” She taps her chin. “I can’t remember you slumping before. You’ve always been perfectly spot on.”

  The fire looks low, so I throw a bunch more pages into it. “Not this bad, but I’ve gotten into funks before.”

  Charlie tears a few pages off. She looks at me with a mischievous grin. “May I?”

  I gesture toward the fireplace. “By all means.”

  She crumples the pages and throws them into the fire. “So, what’s worked in the past?”

  My brain goes directly to one place. “Her.”

  “Who? Jenna?

  I throw my head back and laugh. “That’s funny. Jenna’s never given two shits about football. So no. Not Jenna. Her.” I nod toward the picture of her and Ari on the end table.

  “Okay, what did Ari do to help you?”

  “She’d kick my ass… and other stuff.” Memories of “other stuff” flood my head. So many dirty memories, I ca
n’t help but smile.

  Charlie gets up and takes two bottles of water out of the bar fridge. She hands me one. “Drink this. What other stuff?”

  I set the water next to me. “I should not be telling you this. We shouldn’t be talking about me and her at all. But I’m shitfaced so… what the hell. Right before our first national championship, I was a bucket of nerves. She flew in a day early and snuck onto our floor of the hotel room.”

  She opens her water. “It pays to be the coach’s daughter, I guess.”

  “Yeah, she told Aiden she was going to talk to me about pressure and whatever. He told me later that he knew she’d piss me off and snap me out of it. He would keel over and die if he knew the truth. She showed up at my door wearing nothing but a red trench coat and five-inch heels.”

  Charlie throws a pillow at my head. “Eww! The Burberry? I bought her that. I so don’t want to hear this.”

  “That’s only part of it. After getting me… um… loosened up, we snuck onto the field and did passing drills all night. She kicked my ass way more than any coach ever did. By midnight, I was back on my game. Then we went back to the hotel and fucked all night. We killed them the next day, 48-0.”

  She gags, making a show of her revulsion. “Next time, please censor your stories. I wish I didn’t know what I know now.”

  “I never talk about sex with you, but I’ll be more careful in the future.” I take another drink, trying to remember what I just said and figure out how embarrassed I should be. “If you didn’t hear it from me, did you hear it from her? Does Ari talk about it with you? What does she say?”

  She makes an “X” with her arms. “No way. I’m not going there. No matter how drunk you are and how little you’ll remember tomorrow, my lips are sealed. Can’t do it.”

  I flip her off as I take a sip of my water. I lay my head back on the couch and close my eyes.

  “I got a really strange call today from Jenna.”

  “Oh, yeah?” I can only imagine where this is going. With how pissed Jenna was, I can easily see her stirring up trouble.

  “Yeah,” Charlie answers. “She said that one of my pictures was delivered to your house, and the contractors forwarded it to her condo. It’s the picture of Ari. The one that was bought by my anonymous buyer. Any idea how it ended up at your house?”