The Odd Ballerz

by Ruthie Robinson

  “I’m in training for two weeks,” Memphis shouted, moving on to her next complaint. “You should have told me that too. I’m not sure I can even be here for that long. I have other commitments you know, other things to do with my evenings besides going to camp,” Memphis said. She started her car, waiting her turn to back out of the parking lot.

  “Like what?” Alex scoffed. “So you miss doing your work, work and more boring work. You’ll live and you’ll be in much better shape at the end of it. Take your medicine like a big girl. You lost your bet and this, young one, is what is called ‘paying up.’”

  “I suck and two weeks of camp won’t make me better,” Memphis said, ignoring the comments about her life.

  “How do you know, it’s your first day. Plus, you need time to get in shape, especially if you want to have a serious shot at getting some actual play time. That’s the reason I signed you up for camp in the first place. You can get in shape, and Z can figure out where to put you on the team. Given your skill level, this is a win-win for everyone. He’s a good coach. You’ll learn a lot from him.”

  “I’m going to be on the team. This is a rebuilding year so it’s not only try-outs like I thought. I actually have to play. Did you know that?”

  “The bet was to try out and if you made it, you were going to play. Wasn’t that what you agreed to?”

  “Yes.”

  “So what? You thought you’d be too terrible to play, and we’d let you off the hook?”

  “Sort of,” Memphis said, fessing up to her hidden hopes.

  “Sorry to disappoint you then. It’s me and you, come fall.”

  “I’m not athletic, nor do I have any sports related skills.”

  “See, this is why I didn’t tell you about camp. I didn’t want to hear you whine your way out of it, like you’re doing now. It isn’t as hard as you’ve built it up in your mind. What’s with you and sports anyway? Why do you dislike them so much?” Alex asked.

  “You were young when I was in school, so you don’t know how bad I was then.”

  “That was then and this is now,” Alex said, interrupting her. “What was it that you were always telling me growing up? ‘If at first you don’t succeed, keeping on trying until you do’ or something like that. You can’t be as bad as you make yourself out to be.”

  “What if you were my coach instead of Z? You could train me,” Memphis said.

  “Nope. He can be a hardass sometimes, but he’s fair and if you try, he’ll work with you. And no, I can’t train you. You’ll just try and talk me out of doing whatever it is you don’t wish to do. You won’t be able to talk Z out of anything. He’s an indifferent third party, immune to your charms. There is a reason you’re successful selling insurance. You can talk anyone into anything.”

  “Except Coach Z,” Memphis said under her breath.

  “Didn’t I just say that? It means he’s the man for you.”

  “You’re enjoying this. I can hear it in your voice,” Memphis said. She didn’t have the desire to look terrible in front of him for two weeks. He had become important to her for some reason she had yet to understand, but her reaction to him had been immediate.

  “So besides having to play with boys, how was practice?” Alex asked, deciding that another change in subject was in order.

  “Fine, and how much is this camp costing you? Coach Z told me that you’d paid for me. You and I both know you do not have money to spend on me. I’m going to pay you back,” Memphis asked. It was her turn to change the subject.

  “He’s giving me a discount, charging me half of what it costs.”

  “Which is?”

  “Three hundred dollars.”

  “Six hundred dollars?? Seriously, people are willing to pay that much for a two-week football camp? Dang, fifty-five kids, multiplied by six hundred dollars is a nice chunk of change,” she said.

  “It’s not that much really. Some camps cost more and he has expenses.”

  “Well, I’m paying you back.”

  “M?”

  “What?”

  “I’m proud of you for sticking it out. It’s not about football. It’s about you getting out of your comfort zone, about trying something new. That’s what this is, me pushing you to grow, as you’ve always pushed me,” Alex said.

  “I can’t feel my legs,” Memphis said, out of the country finally and pulling on to the freeway. Home in less than twenty minutes and no, she wouldn’t quit.

  “It will pass,” Alex said.

  “I’ll only continue if I can pay you back. Your money does not need to be spent on me.”

  “Okay, you can pay me back. Honestly, I was hoping you would,” she said, squealing into the phone. “This is so cool. The Jones women, two of them anyway, kicking ass, all covered in sweat and blood, and leaving it all out on the field. You realized that this is the first thing we’ve done together? Ever. So thanks, M.”

  “Sweat maybe, blood, I hope not, and slow down, sister. All of this, this training, may be for nothing. You can’t infuse me with new abilities. I didn’t tell you I fell today, multiple times.”

  “What was your time in the forty?” Alex asked, ignoring Memphis.

  “Five-three? I think that’s what Coach Harris said.”

  “Whoa, that’s good considering you don’t run, and you’re big-time out of shape. That’s a better time than some who do. See, I told you, you were better than you thought.”

  “Maybe I could take that human growth hormone or something. I hear that could help,” Memphis said, chuckling.

  “We’ll see. Talk to you later,” Alex said.

  “Yep,” Memphis said, hanging up.

  THREE

  Alex stared down at her phone, pleased. She stopped by the break room for one last cup of coffee on the tail end of her lunch break. She’d gotten on as part of the hospital’s cleaning crew about a year ago and was filling in this evening for a friend.

  “You alright?” a male voice asked, breaking into her thoughts. It was Aarik, a nurse, newly employed here. She knew his name and had seen him around, just hadn’t officially met him. He seemed like a nice enough guy, smiled when they ran into each other. But didn’t they all at first, was her experience.

  He was a handsome African American male… okay, make that a fine African American male, but not fine enough to make it past her guard. Nobody was, and that was a perfectly acceptable arrangement for her. All men were off limits until she became better skilled at determining the wheat from chaff.

  “My sister is going to try out for the women’s football team. She’s a little bit nervous, which makes me a little nervous, worried for her. You know?” She said, meeting his gaze.

  “I do. Woman playing football, huh,” he said, holding a coffee pot in one hand and an empty cup in the other.

  “What, women can’t play football?”

  He laughed.

  “Got to go,” she said at his laughter. And what an answer, she thought, deciding she could do without coffee. She made her way over to the door and was out of it before he could respond. Nope, she was good with that small amount of conversation with the handsome Aarik.

  She had ten minutes remaining on her break and she didn’t want to spend it around him and his women’s limitations. She also knew that he was not alone in his thinking, that for a lot of people, women’s football was running around the field, dressed in a bra and panties. Really, who had thought that a good idea, she wanted to ask? It was a hard image to shake.

  She was done explaining her wishes, her desires, and her goals to people, to men in particular. She decided she would rather sit outside instead. Fuck if he didn’t get her need and desire to play football. All pushback was most people’s response, male or female, to her desire to play, and even more to her wish to coach.

  There was a patio near the break room filled with tables and benches for those who were here visiting their loved ones or needed a little vitamin D. It was nice out, hot still, even with the canopy-covered patio
and the discreetly placed fans. She took a seat at one of the few empty tables and pulled out her phone, deciding to check for emails, and her thoughts drifted back to Memphis.

  She was doing her sister a favor, whether Memphis wanted to acknowledge it or not. Her life was one long continuum of doing the right thing, an oddball old lady of a sister/mother, always taking care of Alex and their militant middle sister, Charlotte. She didn’t remember a time when Memphis hadn’t put them first, the opposite of the what’s-in-it-for-me, looking out for number one people that the world seemed to favor these days.

  She wanted more for Memphis than a dutiful life and the drudgery that went with it. Life was what you made it, and she was going to do what she could to make sure Memphis didn’t settle for a life of just being the self-sacrificing one, just as M was helping her change her life from one bad man choice after the other.

  “I didn’t mean to offend you,” Aarik said, standing beside her table.

  “You didn’t,” Alex said, not bothering to look up.

  “I did, but you left before I could explain.”

  “I don’t know you, so how can I be offended? People say numbskull things all the time,” Alex said, meeting his eyes then.

  He smiled, and there was laughter in his gaze. “So I’m a numbskull and I really didn’t say anything that I can recall,” he said, chucking.

  “I didn’t say you were a numbskull, but numbskull can be an attitude, too, and yours did all the talking for you,” she said, searching his face for signs of irritation. Some men could hide it well, others not so much, but it was one of the first things she looked for now.

  “Well, I’m sorry if I offended you.”

  She shrugged and resumed pursing through the contents of her cell phone. She wasn’t looking for anything in particular, just hoping he’d get the I’m-not-interested message and move along.

  “I’m Aarik by the way,” he said, extending his hand towards her. She looked up and stared at it for several seconds, and he laughed before letting it fall to his side. “A tough crowd,” he said, taking the seat directly across from her at the table. She looked down at her phone again.

  “I love the game, played it in high school. I was really pretty good, even had visions of making it to the NFL, right. Running back, the next Emmitt Smith, playing for America’s team.”

  She smiled, but remained quiet. She didn’t look up either.

  “So my remark was not directed at the notion of women wanting to play football per se. I understand that desire. It’s a beautiful game. It’s hard on the body though, and that was what I meant by my comment. Sorry if I offended you,” he said, smiling.

  She looked up and met his eyes then. “No problem,” she said, and looked back down at her phone.

  “You mind if I finish my coffee here?” he asked.

  “It’s a free country,” she said, swinging her legs around her seat before setting them on the floor. She stood.

  “You’re leaving?”

  “Yep,” she said.

  He laughed. “Nice meeting you…?” he said, smiling up at her.

  She stared at him for a few seconds, fighting back her smile in spite of it all. “Alex,” she said.

  “Alex,” he said, meeting her gaze, as he continued to smile. “Nice meeting you, Alex. I’m Aarik.” He extended his hand to her again.

  “Nice meeting you, Aarik,” she said, not taking his hand again, and then she was moving towards the exit.

  #

  The utility building on Z’s property was a square block with two points for entry. A hallway led from the front door straight through to the back door, dividing the building into two parts. Weight room on the right, storage room complete with sink on the left.

  Coach Z and Coach Damian were in the storage part of the building. Only two men were needed to pick up and put away the equipment each evening. It was his camp, created and organized by him, so he always included himself in the two-men clean team. The other coaches rotated helping out. Today it was D’s turn.

  At their feet, neatly stacked in preparation for the next day of camp were a variety of cones, ladders for the agility drills, and coolers that held both water and Gatorade. There were cups still in their plastic wrap, clipboards with lists to record forty-yard dash times, stopwatches, footballs, a hodgepodge of shirts, and the occasional orphan shoe or sock left behind by the boys. The tires were the only other equipment that wasn’t housed in the storage room. They were kept instead in a stack around the back of the building. The coolers needed to be emptied and washed. That was all they had left to do.

  “Jones today. Wow,” Damian said, chuckling, smiling at his old friend. “If the Ballerz didn’t need bodies, I’d tell you to run for cover. It’s hard to believe she and Alex are from the same family.”

  “I know. I wouldn’t have believed it either, if I hadn’t witnessed it myself.”

  “It’s a good thing she has other attributes,” D said.

  “Showing up late? Pitching insurance? Talking? Being difficult? Trying to get out of participating? Are those the attributes you mean?” Z said, chuckling, reflecting on all he’d seen of Jones today.

  “No, this has nothing to do with any of that. Did you see her after she parked her car? Don’t tell me you missed that,” D said, lifting the second of four coolers to dump, wash, rinse, and dry, before stacking it on the table next to the sink.

  “Missed what?”

  “Missed Jones walking over to the restroom, to change out of her work clothes.”

  “That good, huh?” Z said, smiling, his sly smile.

  “Jones’s body is a thing of beauty,” D said, laughing and catching on to Z’s grin.

  “I saw her,” he said, chuckling.

  “Very nice,” Damian said, smiling at his good friend.

  “Very nice indeed,” Z said, smiling back at him, as he placed the third cooler on the floor beside Damian. “Not that it matters, right. You know we have that new rule. Players are off limits to coaches.”

  “It’s too bad for you. I don’t coach for the Ballerz, so I don’t have to abide by anyone’s rule,” Damian said, smiling.

  “You’re married, so there is that rule you might wish to consider, and she doesn’t seem like the type,” Z said, lifting the last cooler and carrying it over to Damian. He’d given up on lecturing Damian about the commitment that went along with marriage. Fuck, it wasn’t his marriage, and as far as he could tell Damian’s wife had found a way to live with it, so really what was his problem?

  “What type is that?”

  “The into-married-men type.”

  “There is no type for that. You don’t know until you ask. Present her with something she can’t resist is the way I see it,” D said, smiling.

  “And that would be you?” Z asked, smiling as he dumped the contents of the cooler into the sink.

  “It’s not you,” D said, laughing. “Not with you playing the mean coach today, making her do those jumping jacks, and whatever else. You were just pissed that first she was late, and second that she ignored you and that whistle of yours.”

  “You saw that, huh,” Z said, chuckling. “I will not be ignored,” he added in his best actor imitation. It was a quote from a movie he couldn’t remember the name of. “I can’t abide slackers, or people who don’t try, or who show up late. You know this.”

  “Yes, I know this. The list of things you don’t tolerate is long,” D said, chuckling.

  “Standards are what they’re called.”

  “Sure they are.”

  “Her time in the forty was good, especially given what we witnessed today. Feet of clay, and she’s clearly out of shape. You think she might be faking this ineptitude? She is here on a bet after all. Maybe she doesn’t want to play and is looking for a way out. It was the first thing she said to me. I suck, all laying out the defense for an insanity plea,” he said, ignoring D’s comments. “No one is that clumsy.”

  “Who knows, maybe she’s Avery, or Allison
, or whatever name that is the women who show up here to get closer to you. Hell if I know. Maybe it’s as simple as you make her nervous. She wouldn’t be the first to get all giddy around the cute quarterback.”

  “You think I’m cute, huh,” Z said, chuckling as he winked at D. “In shape with a new pair of feet is what she needs, unless she’s faking it, then it’s a swift kick in the arse for her, and if she’s here for the wrong reason, meaning me, then it’s another swift kick in the arse.”

  “Harsh.”

  “But true,” Z said, chuckling again, his hands on his hips, watching as Damian finished rinsing the last cooler. “I don’t know. We’ll just have to see. I’m bummed though. I was so looking forward to another Alex. I can’t do much with what I saw today, and I know how that sounds in a year in which we clearly need women. But Jones would be a danger to herself and the others around her.”

  “It’s way too early to make those judgments, dude, in my opinion,” D said.

  “With Jones it might not be soon enough,” Z said, laughing. “Is that everything?” he asked, looking around the room one final time.

  “Yep.”

  “Good, then,” he said, stepping aside so D could precede him out. He locked the door behind him.

  Zach stopped beside Damian’s car. It was parked behind Z’s home as they tired to leave the larger parking area for the campers. He drove an Escalade now. His old Porsche had reluctantly gone the way of his bachelor days. D reluctantly, had a wife and three kids now.

  “See you Wednesday,” Z said.

  “Wednesday,” D said, backing his car out of its parking spot.

  All the coaches were family men and long time friends of his. He and D had played college ball together. D was currently coaching football at a middle school in Round Rock, a suburb of Austin. Beryl, Harris, and Wylie coached high school football somewhere within the Austin school district. Z didn’t want the commitment that coaching for schools required, so he went for camps in the summer, or he rented out the field to others to use for camp or whatever. He, like his buddies, had found a way to remain connected to the game they all loved and had grown up playing.