Scorched Turf

by Lilah Grey

  CORINNE

  “So do you often lie to your girlfriend?” I asked, my hands folded neatly on my lap.

  I told myself that I wasn’t going to acknowledge James the entire car ride home, but I couldn’t contain my boiling temper. We’d hardly left the parking lot before the words spilled from my mouth. I eyed James as his grip tightened around the steering wheel, jaw clenched.

  “She’s not my girlfriend.”

  “But you admit that you do often lie,” I said, trying to push any and every button I could find.

  “Cori…” A warning shot in my direction, cautioning me to tread lightly.

  “You must’ve had a good time together in Hawaii,” I said, fiddling with the radio. I settled on a station that really helped set the mood. The maracas and trumpets of a mariachi band blasted through the speakers. I turned the volume up so any car that drove by us could share in the magic.

  James slapped the volume control with enough force that it knocked the cover off the knob.

  A chill ran down my spine. I’d rarely seen James lose his temper, but never because of me. I knew I was acting childish; it was silly, I know that, but it’s all I could think to do after having my world flipped upside down in a single moment. James and I weren’t dating, so seeing him and Marybeth kiss shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did.

  But it did hurt, and it still does. It felt like I’d been split in half, and the only thing holding me together, numbing the pain was the little satisfaction I got from acting like a child. If I didn’t have that, I would’ve already broken down in a fit of hysterics. I could feel myself slipping toward it the longer we were silent.

  “So did you two start dating in Hawaii?” I continued on as though nothing had happened.

  Silence.

  “Oh, right. You don’t date. I forget that. Too inconvenient for you, right?”

  “Are you done?” James said, allowing his grip on the wheel to loosen a bit.

  “How was she?” I asked. “In bed I mean.”

  “Wasn’t the best I’ve had.”

  The words blanketed me like a sheet of snow. I knew he’d slept with her. It was clear from their interaction. But I didn’t actually want to hear him admit it. I’d deserved it though, pushing his buttons like that.

  “It happened during the photoshoot,” I said; it was less a question than it was a statement of fact.

  James wouldn’t look at me. He kept his eyes forward. I could hear his teeth grit together as his jaw clenched tight. Then, after a few more moments of silence, James nodded. A small gesture that cut through me like a knife.

  “It meant nothing,” he said softly. “ I…”

  The rest of his words didn’t register as I turned my head and stared blankly out the window. The tall buildings of downtown Philadelphia blurred as tears welled in my eyes.

  I promised myself I wasn’t going to allow this to happen to me again. But like so many promises I’d made to myself before, I’d broken it. I let James in again. I had only myself to blame for the power I gave to him.

  Slowly, I came out of my daze, my skin tingling and cold, as though I’d just stepped out of an ice bath. I hardly recognized my surroundings. My apartment looked foreign and uninviting, and I had no urge to move a single muscle. I felt nothing, as though my body was trying to protect me from the pain I knew was coursing through me.

  I was vaguely aware of James talking to me, of his hand on my shoulder, shaking me, but nothing he said was reaching my consciousness. His voice faded out as a familiar melody streamed from the stereo, grabbing what little attention I had to give. Family Tree by TV on the Radio.

  The soft, haunting vocals enveloped me as tears rolled silently down my cheeks. Without thinking, my hand pulled on the door handle, and I opened the car door. James’s hand fell away from my shoulder as I stepped outside. He called out to me, but I kept walking.

  When I was finally inside the apartment, I collapsed at the door. My body shook and trembled as everything I was numb to moments earlier rushed through me. I couldn’t keep it inside any longer. None of it. Not the poor relationship with mother; not my father’s death; not my uncertain future. Every painful event in my life I’d been sheltering myself from broke through the splintered dam I’d built around me.

  “What happened, Cori?” Violet asked, kneeling down in front of me. “Are you okay?”

  I raised my head to meet her gaze. “No,” I muttered.

  I wasn’t okay, and I wasn’t sure if I ever would be again.

  31

  James

  The bathroom filled with steam as I scoured my body with soap and near-scalding water, trying to wash away the lingering remnants of last night’s disaster.

  It was no use.

  No amount of scrubbing would erase Corinne’s hollow look from my mind, the complete shell she became on the ride home. It felt like I was talking through her; nothing registered. When she did look at me, her eyes were vacant and made me uneasy, an uneasiness that still hasn’t left.

  I texted and called but I haven’t received a response. Even if she did pick up or respond, I wouldn’t know what to say. I wanted to fix things between us, but I had no idea how.

  Practice came and went. Corinne came and went. We were strangers again. Less than strangers, really. A stranger would respond to a greeting or return a smile. Corinne ignored me entirely. Not a single word. Not a single glance. I no longer existed.

  I knew she needed space, needed time for herself, but it didn’t stop me from feeling gutted. I’d never felt this way before—so completely and utterly powerless. Helpless, flailing around in the middle of an ocean without life-jacket.

  I thought that Corinne would at least grant me a brief exchange after practice, but she breezed by my outstretched arm, head down clutching her bag and water bottle.

  James: We need to talk.

  I’d sent a number of variations of that text after practice, throughout the day and into the next, but I received the same response each time: nothing. The only hope I had of Corinne acknowledging me was in a few hours: our first workout since the game. I wasn’t even sure she would show, but I clung to the hope that she would.

  I hadn’t slept more than a few hours since the game, and this night wasn’t any different. Rather than fighting it, I fell into my old habit of watching ESPN. Re-runs of yesterday’s shows were on, and I found myself forgetting about Corinne and the rest of my problems as I lost myself in highlights.

  But then what little comfort I found disappeared. A video of Marybeth and me kissing played on screen while a woman commented over it.

  “And who could forget those steamy photos?” the woman said as the video played on loop. “Can we get those photos? Get them on screen. Yes! That’s the one. Look at—”

  And on and on it went—speculation about a budding romance between Marybeth and me.

  “Can we get a close up on that girl. The one in the—Yes, that’s the one.” A freeze-frame of Corinne in the background, seething. “Looks like we have a jealous fan, and who wouldn’t be? It seems like Marybeth Adler has done the impossible, locking down James Calder—Oh, I’m being told that this is Corinne Crosley, a forward for the UP Hawks. Yes, those Hawks. The same team James is helping out while he’s injured.”

  “Looks like James’s mentorship extends beyond the field,” another person chimed in before I jammed my thumb into the power button.

  “Fuck!” I screamed into the darkness now that the glow from the TV had disappeared. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” The remote control sailed across the room and smashed against the wall, parts of it shattering on impact, one of the batteries flying out.

  I felt light-headed and cold from the adrenaline pumping through me. I had to get out of here. I couldn’t sit still. Not while everything in my life came crashing down around me.

  I grabbed my things and left for the gym.

  Everything about this workout was miserable.

  My muscles fatigued from just the warmup sets. Dur
ing each exercise, I blanked on the number of reps I’d done, and even the number of sets, leading me to repeat some exercises and finish others prematurely.

  And to top it off, a fourth of the lights decided that this morning was the perfect time to stop working. A portion of the others flickered in their death throes, leaving me to workout in relative darkness, which didn’t help with the sudden onset of sleepiness. Every few seconds I kept yawning, my eyes burning with every blink as I tried to fight back against sleep.

  This day was off to a spectacular start.

  During the middle of my third set of bench press—or second, or fourth—I heard the door to the gym creak open, shutting a few seconds later.

  Corinne, I thought, racking the bar on the bench press. No use finishing; I had no idea what rep I was on anyway.

  A large thud reverberated through the room as a bag hit the floor.

  “Um. Hello?” an irritated voice called out.

  My stomach dropped. It wasn’t Corinne; it was Rylee. I’d completely forgotten about the arrangement I’d made with Coach Kay. It seemed like my mind couldn’t hold onto anything today.

  “Over here, Rylee,” I said, not masking the disappointment in my voice.

  “So do you and Corinne always work out in the dark together?” Rylee said with a grin, one eyebrow raised.

  She wore black yoga pants that matched her hair color and a bright pink sports bra. Perfume. Makeup. She was about to get a rude awakening.

  “Are you ready to start?” I asked, ignoring her previous question.

  “No Corinne?”

  “She’s feeling a little under the weather,” I lied.

  “Good. I prefer one-on-one work,” she said, a coquettish smile on her lips.

  I groaned, inwardly; subtle as a boulder.

  “Follow me,” I said, pushing past her, settling in on the mats as I began the same introduction I went through with Corinne months ago.

  Any hope I had of Corinne showing up dissolved with every passing moment.

  “Welcome back,” Jack said, clapping a hand on my back.

  I grunted, setting my bag down in front of my locker.

  “Good to be back,” I said, even though I didn’t believe it.

  I stared at the open seven-by-three-foot mahogany locker that held everything I once thought was important in my life. I thumbed the silver plaque engraved with my name and number. A tailored suit hung alongside my jerseys. Dress shoes and cleats, shorts and shin guards, all of it intermingled. All of it how I left it, but all of it no longer felt right.

  Something was missing. Something intangible, a certain feeling. I felt like a stranger in a strange place I once called home.

  I pulled out one of the drawers, thumbed through papers and pens and Stars souvenirs. A photograph fell out from the pages of an old contract. An old high school photograph of Corinne. A smile crossed my lips as I dragged my finger across the smooth surface, tracing the outline of her face. She was bright-eyed and happy, a stark difference from the Corinne I knew lately. Most of which was my own fault. All of it, really.

  I felt a hand on my shoulder. “How’s it going, James?”

  “It’s going well, Evan,” I said, letting the photograph fall to the bottom of the locker. “And I think the same could be said about you. It seems like you guys don’t need me around here, not with you in the mix. You’re doing a fantastic job.” I grabbed Evan’s shoulder. “I doubt I’ll see any playing time now.”

  Evan snorted, “I doubt that.” There was a brief pause, and then Evan added a hurried, “Well, I’ll see you out there.”

  A few moments after Evan left, Jack grabbed my shoulder. “That was adorable,” he said as he leaned in to me. “You two make a cute couple.”

  I snorted, shrugging off his hand. “Shut the fuck up, Jack.”

  I sighed, looking down at the photograph of Corinne. I hadn’t planned on coming back to the team this early. My mind had been set on seeing the season through with the Hawks. But after everything fell apart a few weeks ago, and there were no signs of improving, I gave in. I needed to throw myself into something else in order to take my mind off Corinne.

  I’d given up reaching out to her; it was a dead end. She would acknowledge me only when necessary, during practices and games, but when she did, I would’ve preferred the silent treatment. Her responses were short and cold, and it was clear that she wanted nothing to do with me.

  She hadn’t been to a single workout, leaving me alone with Rylee who seemed more interested in flirting than actually completing the workout routine. The respite I once found in those early morning workouts was gone, and along with it, my motivation for coaching.

  “You see those shoes with spikes on them?” Jack said, pointing at the cleats still sitting at the bottom of my locker. “You put those on before you get on the field. Same with those funny looking shields. Those go over your shins.”

  “I get it,” I said, shoving Jack. “I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

  “But don’t take too long,” Jack said, backpedaling toward the exit. “Evan might get worried.”

  What a funny guy…

  The noise from the rest of the team slowly dissipated as everyone left the locker room, except for me. I’d been sitting on the chair in front of the my locker still dressed in the clothes I came in with, looking at the photograph of Corinne.

  I looked around at the spacious locker room, the rows of mahogany lockers, the couches and chairs and flat screen TVs, the massage tables and whirlpool jacuzzis, the ice baths and sauna.

  I’d trade it all without a second thought for another chance with Corinne.

  32

  Corinne

  “You know you can’t keep ignoring him, right Cori?” Violet said as we walked down the front steps of the Art History building.

  We’d just finished another grueling seminar, or at least it felt grueling to me. Everything had been difficult lately. Perfect timing, too. Deadlines were fast approaching—papers and tests in nearly every class—and not to mention, there was a long string of away games coming up.

  There wasn’t enough time in the day to prepare for anything, and I could feel myself being slowly consumed by a heavy dread, reminding me of everything I had to do and everything I was putting off.

  Just a few weeks ago, I felt like I had everything under control. Practices went well, games went well, and I was even staying on top of my studies. I had my paper topic lined up for my seminar that was exciting enough for me to start my outline early, without Violet’s help. That was then. Before my life began to spin out of control. Before that kiss.

  “You. Can’t. Keep. Ignoring. Him,” Violet pressed again. And after a few seconds, she bumped me with her shoulder. “Or me.”

  “It worked with Tyler.” I sighed as we slowly shuffled down the path that led behind the Arts building.

  I liked this path. There were benches and large trees along the pathway. Squirrels darted back and forth. It was quiet, and lately, that’s all I wanted.

  Violet stopped. “That’s different,” she said. “You know that.”

  I turned around and shrugged. “Maybe. But I don’t know what else to do.”

  “Well you can keep doing this,” Violet said with a smile as she motioned at me. “Because this is not working.”

  I’d rolled out of bed ten minutes before class and dressed myself in sweats from head to toe. All gray. Even the hair tie that held my messy, tangled bun was gray.

  “I know you hate James right now. I get it. I think it’s better than keeping it in. But think about the what happens if you continue to down this path. This gray suit thing you’ve got going on here,” Violet said with a short laugh. “That’s just the tip of the iceberg. I see one or two… dozen cats in your future. Being mad at him isn’t helping. It’s distracting you.”

  Apart from Violet’s foretelling of my future as a crazy cat lady, she was right. Ignoring James wasn’t working out for me. I hadn’t been working out on my own
. I hadn’t been keeping up with my schoolwork. Practice and games had been going terribly. I was even working on my grad school applications, giving my mom weekly updates because she kept bugging me. My priorities were completely out of whack, and I needed to change that or else Violet’s prophecy might come true.

  “Fine…” I said. “I’ll talk with him.”

  I was more mad at myself than at James. After spending so much time with him, I thought that there might have been something between us. I’d seen flashes of it every now and then, but I’d built it into something that it wasn’t: real.

  All those expectations came crashing down when I realized that I’d been fooling myself. As painful as I knew it would be, I had to finally accept that there was nothing and will never be anything between James and me.

  “I’ll see you at home,” Violet said as she read a text message, a smile growing on her face. “I forgot about a meeting I had today.” She turned on her heel and started to retrace our steps.

  “Meeting?” I said, before she had a chance to disappear. She seemed to be in quite the rush. “With whom?”

  Violet paused, straightened out her spine, and looked back at me. “Dr. Collins,” she said, trying to mask her excitement.

  “Another one?”

  “It’s only the fifth.”

  “Fifth? What in the world are you writing that requires that many meetings?” I blurted out.

  “We’re just discussing some of my references.”

  “Uh-huh. Is that what they’re calling them these days?”

  Violet flung her head back and groaned as she stomped off.

  “You have very nice references,” I called out to her. “Very large. Very firm.”

  “Bye, Corinne!” Violet yelled without turning back to me, disappearing around the corner of the Art History building a few seconds later.

  Violet, Violet, Violet. I knew there was nothing going on between those two, but it was fun to poke and prod from time to time.

  I checked my phone, but I didn’t have any texts, not even random one-offs from Chloe. I slid my phone back into my bag, but not before I caught my reflection in the black screen.

  Dear Lord…

  Things were going to change… right after I changed from the depressing gray uniform I had on. Tomorrow, I’d start the routine again. Tomorrow, I’d get my life back on track. Tomorrow, I’d talk with James, because I needed him if I wanted to get drafted.