by Lilah Grey
“Because we’re not at the end of the movie yet,” I said with a laugh. “She’ll get there.”
“She better,” Violet said, popping another handful of popcorn into her mouth. “Or I’m going to be pissed.”
I’d never seen Violet get so invested in a movie like this before. Actually, I don’t think I’d ever seen Violet watch a movie before.
As I watched the movie, I kept being reminded of James and all our missteps and false starts, and I wondered if we were in the middle of our story or at the end of it.
I hadn’t heard a single thing from him since I’d received his letter. Not even a word of encouragement before the draft, or a note of commiseration after it. It stung, but not as much as what led to our separation.
I still couldn’t believe that he didn’t think what we had was worth fighting for. I would’ve done everything in my power to try and make it work, weather the storm, but it seemed like he didn’t even consider it. He made the decision for me without even consulting me. I couldn’t help but think he didn’t respect my opinion, or thought that he knew what was best for me.
What’s best for me is him… Was him…
But I guess that he didn’t see what I saw.
The letter showed that he cared, that he was sorry for how he handled the situation, but it wasn’t enough. I wanted something more tangible than words. I wanted him.
“Thank God,” Violet said. “She grew some balls and went for what she wanted. I wanted to wring her neck for most of that movie.”
“Yeah,”I said, smiling weakly. “I think I’m going to head to bed.”
“Are you alright?”
“Just tired,” I said, standing up.
I’d been sitting around wishing and waiting for James to act how I wanted him to act. I wasn’t putting forth any effort to make things work between us. Hell, I didn’t even make it known to him what I wanted; I expected him to read my mind and then act accordingly. I was being selfish and unreasonable, not taking any responsibility for what happened, pinning it all on him.
With me going silent, how else was James supposed to act?
Of course he’d move on with his life, trying to find another team. It was time for me to get off the sideline and onto the field. I only hoped it wasn’t too late.
I opened up my laptop. I was in no position to call James; I had no idea where he was anyway, and didn’t want to spring this on him at 3:00 a.m. So instead, I decided to email him. Spill everything to him. Bleed.
I started composing the email, letting everything flow, and when I was finished, my mouse hovered over the send key.
But I couldn’t pull the trigger. Something was stopping me. I sighed and opened a new tab. Hoping maybe a brief distraction would calm my nerves.
Out of habit, I navigated to ESPN. When I read the featured story’s headline, I felt a splitting pain in my chest.
It’s Official — James Calder Signs with A.C. Milan
Tears streamed down my cheeks as I switched back to my email tab. I clicked discard and the email I’d spent over an hour composing disappeared.
I was too late; our story had already ended, and it was all my fault.
47
James
I rested my forearms on the railing as I gazed out at the dark, endless waters of the Ligurian Sea. Moonlight dappled its choppy surface. I sipped my bourbon and watched as the waves crashed against the rocky cliffs, foaming for a brief moment before dissolving into the craggy wall.
I’d shut the French doors that opened up to the balcony in an attempt to block out the grating noise of the party inside. One of the owners of Milan invited me and the rest of the team to his mansion on the west coast of Italy, near Vernazza.
It was supposed to be a celebration for me signing with them, but less than five minutes into it, I wanted to leave. I thought this was what I wanted, but now that I had it, I knew it was in complete opposition to what I wanted: Corinne.
She was the only thing that mattered to me, but after months of fruitless efforts to communicate that to her, it was clear she didn’t feel the same way.
I can’t shake the image on her face as we crossed paths on draft night. The heartbreak of losing the only thing that gave her comfort. I should’ve stopped her there and tried to comfort her, but something stopped me, a nagging feeling that persuaded me to keep walking because I’d only make things worse.
It was a lie; I know that now.
The party grew louder behind me as the doors opened. “There you are,” Pete said. “I’ve been looking for you.”
“Shut them,” I said without turning around.
Pete shut the doors and stepped beside me. “Man this place is amazing. I think I might have to buy a place here.” Pete chuckled. “I could actually afford it now thanks to you. Christ, I’ve never numbers like that in a contract before.”
“I wouldn’t post a down payment just yet.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
I watched a lone boat skid across the horizon and then vanish into the darkness.
“James…”
I took a sip of my bourbon and turned to him. “Don’t worry about it,” I said with a smile, patting him on the shoulder. “Enjoy the party.”
A few minutes later, I was out the door, walking along the empty road back toward town.
CORINNE
The door to the apartment slammed shut.
“Umm, Corinne?” Violet called out.
I was in the kitchen, working on an essay while I waited for dinner to finish cooking in the oven. Chorizo mac and cheese. Carbs out the wazoo but so, so delicious.
“Yeah?” I said, glancing up for a moment before turning my attention back to the computer screen.
“Corinne…”
Out with it already…
“What is it, Vi?” I said, trying my best not to sound irritated. These past few weeks had been brutal as I caught up on missed assignments. I was able to get extensions for most, but that didn’t make the slog any quicker.
Violet finally walked into the kitchen, her mouth wide open as she held out a large envelope in front of her. She tossed the thick envelope at me. It skidded across the table and smacked into my laptop. I grabbed it, flipped it over, and scanned the front.
“What the…”
It was from Harvard—a thick packet, filled with much more than a rejection slip. I glanced up from the packet. Violet seemed to vibrate in front of me, her hand barely able to cover the wide smile on her face.
“Open it!”
I ripped the top, careful not to tear whatever was inside, and then shoved my hand in the opening, fishing out the contents.
There was a gray folder with the Harvard GSAS logo emblazoned on the front. I opened it and read the first word on the first line of the first sheet of paper.
Congratulations.
“There has to be some mistake,” I said, looking up at Violet, who was more excited than I was that I had actually gotten in.
“I told you!” Violet squealed, pulling me into a rough hug.
“How?” I said, looking blankly at the paper in front of me while was Violet still attached to me.
“Does it even matter?” Violet said, peeling away. “You got into Harvard. I didn’t even get in to Harvard.”
Earlier in the week, Violet had been notified by her potential advisor that she had been waitlisted. There was still a chance that she could get in since she was at the top of the list. She didn’t take it too hard because she’d been accepted everywhere else she’d applied. I, on the other hand, had been rejected everywhere else.
Except at Harvard.
What the hell?
I checked my e-mail, trying to see if there was some mistake; there must have been a mistake. And there it was: an email from my advisor. But then I read the subject line… Congratulations!
“I need some air,” I said.
My chair screeched against the floor as I pushed myself away from the table.
“Well, when you come back we’re celebrating.”
There wasn’t anything to celebrate. I didn’t want this, and I certainly didn’t deserve this.
JAMES
“We haven’t passed the deadline, right?”
“We’re pushing it,” Pete said, “but I’m pretty sure I can whip up the paperwork before time runs out.”
“Good.”
“Are you sure this is what you want?” Pete asked, sipping his cappuccino.
I nodded. There was nothing that I was more certain about.
“Well, I wish I could change your mind, but I know I can’t.”
“You’re finally realizing it now, huh?” I leaned back in my chair and watched a pack of Chinese tourists photograph of the colorful houses of Cinque Terre terraced above us.
“No.” Pete laughed. “I’m finally accepting it as fact. You’re a complete fool for doing this, but I also know you don’t care what I think.”
Pete turned his head, and I followed his gaze to a dark, leggy Italian woman. “Just think about what you’re giving up,” he said, nodding to the woman as she passed.
I didn’t feel like I was giving up a single thing because what I would gain far outweighed everything else. I took one last sip of my water and stood up. “Let me know when everything’s finalized.”
“Will do. Why are you doing it? You never told me.” Pete added just as I was turning to leave.
I waved my hand and kept walking. “Goodbye, Pete.”
I heard a heavy sigh as I left, but I kept walking. A text popped on my screen, and I clenched my jaw as I read it a few times. After taking a few minutes to collect my thoughts, I responded.
No plan was ever complete without a few complications.
CORINNE
I’d spent the past week mulling over my acceptance, still wondering if it was a mistake. The excited email exchanges between me and my advisor led me to believe it wasn’t. I should be looking at this as a gift, a light in one of the darkest times of my life; I should be happy, excited that I had been given this opportunity. I was conflicted and on the verge of getting whiplash from the back and forth of my emotions.
Even though Violet was excited for me, she understood my predicament. This was my plan B. But it should never have been on the table because I should never have been accepted to any university I’d applied to. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned in my life, it’s that nothing in life ever goes according to plan.
I still had no idea what I was going to do, and I felt like I wasn’t going to know until April 15, the deadline for my response.
My phone buzzed, and almost immediately, I had a sinking feeling in my gut because my mother had been trying to contact me nearly everyday. Violet had let slip that I’d been accepted into Harvard because my mother had been contacting her nonstop. She thought it would calm her down, but it had the complete opposite effect.
I glanced at the number, and a wave of relief rushed over me. It was a number that I didn’t recognize, and after contemplating letting it go to voicemail, I decided to answer.
“Hello?” I said.
“Corinne Crosley?”
“Yes,” I said, wondering if I’d answered a call from a telemarketer.
“Great!” she said. “My name is Samantha Meadows, head coach of the Portland Tempest.“
My mind went blank when I heard her name. Sam Meadows? The Sam Meadows—the one I idolized growing up. I can still remember the hat trick she scored against Germany in the first Olympic games that I was old enough to remember.
What in the world was she doing calling me?
“Are you there Corinne?”
“Uhh—Yeah—Yes.” I cleared my throat. “I’m here.”
“Good. Well, I’m calling to ask you if you’d be interested in participating in a closed tryout?”
Closed tryout? Holy shit. I’d forgotten that most of the teams in the league offered open tryouts in the spring—a second chance for those who weren’t drafted. But this was a closed tryout…
“Closed tryout?”
“Yes,” she said,” Usually, we hold open tryouts, but we don’t have enough openings to warrant one this year. We’re only looking to fill one specific slot, and we decided it would be in our best interest to narrow our selection to a small group of girls we feel are more than qualified for the position.”
My entire body felt like it was going to burst. She said I was qualified to play for the Portland Tempest.
“We wouldn’t have tryouts at all, but unfortunately, Amanda Jones injured herself severely enough that we have no other options. You’re name came up from a few different sources, and after reviewing your tape, I’m baffled that you weren’t picked up in the draft. But I have to say that I’m pleased. I’d love to find a spot for you with us.”
Holy shit! Holy shit! Now be cool. Just. Be. Cool.
“Cool… Cool…”
I smacked my palm on my forehead. Not cool.
“So we’ve already scheduled a few of the girls, but we were hoping you’d be available sometime at the end of April. Does that sound good for you?”
“Of course!” I blurted out without even thinking.
“Great,” she said, before launching into the traveling logistics, and then into the details of the tryouts. It sounded both brutal and thorough, but I wasn’t about to back down now. I had a second chance, and I wasn’t going to let it go to waste.
“Sound good?” she asked.
“Yes! I’m excited. Thank you again for the opportunity.”
“The pleasure is all mine, Corinne. I’ll see you on the twenty-eighth of April. Have a nice rest of your day.”
“Thanks! You too!”
I let out a high-pitched squeal as the elation that had been building the entire call finally busted out. My body buzzed as though jolts of electricity coursed through me. Every muscle in my body clenched as I shook and trembled.
I let out another battlecry that would’ve made the orcs in the Lord of the Rings cower in fear as I launched myself onto my bed, landing face first. I gripped the comforter and rolled around, kicking my legs, my body bucking like a bull. I’d given up any ability to try and control myself. It wasn’t until I heard an ahem that I realized my screams had drawn the ire of Violet.
“Do you know what time it is?” Violet said, her hands on her hips. She was wearing checked pajama bottoms and a light blue camisole. “I have an exam tomorrow morning and—”
Before Violet had the chance to finish her sentence, I launched myself onto her, knocking her over, and sending us both to the ground.
“I got an invite to tryout with the Portland Tempest!”
That’s what I tried to say. What actually came out of my mouth was a series of shrieks and grunts, followed by one long cackle.
Violet twisted and turned her body, trying to crawl out from under me. “Jesus, Cori. What the hell is going on?”
“I’m going to Portland to tryout for the Tempest,” I said, falling over as Violet finally freed herself from me.
Violet panted, trying to catch her breath. “Oh.” And then a few moments later, “Oh my God, Cori! That’s amazing!” She reached out and latched her arms around my neck.
“Samantha Meadows just called me.”
I recapped the entire conversation for Violet.
“I’m so happy for you, Cori,” she said, once I was done. “When is it again?”
“April twenty-eighth.”
“So after the deadline for Harvard.”
My stomach knotted. “Yeah,” I said, my voice feeble, contradicting the turmoil swirling in my head.
I’d completely forgotten about the deadline. There was no question where my heart was—I wanted to play; there was nothing else I wanted to do in this world. I didn’t want to live the life my mother had been trying to force me into since I was a child, but there was so much uncertainty. As much as I disliked it, I still relied on my mother. If I were to decline going to Harvard, I could kiss my funding good
bye.
And it could be all for nothing; the Tempest could choose not to pick me up, and then where would I be?
I covered my face with my hands as my throat tightened, tears beginning to well in my eyes.
“We both know what you want,” Violet said calmly. “Even though I was happy when you were accepted, I knew it didn’t mean anything to you. You need to go to Portland. You need to play.”
“But I’ll have no way to pay for rent or food,” I said in between sniffling. “My mom’s going to cut me off as soon as she finds out.”
“Don’t worry about it, Cori.” Violet reached out and rubbed my back. “I’ve got your back.”
“I can’t let you pay my rent. It’s—”
“You’re not making me do anything. I want to help you. I don’t remember the last time I saw you as happy as you were a few minutes ago. That’s the Corinne I know. The Corinne I want to see. And if that means I have to take a few more shifts, or dig into my savings, or ask my mom for help—I’ll do it.”
“I could get a part-time job.”
“No. You’re going to prepare for the tryout. After listening to what it all entails, you don’t have any free time to spare.”
My choppy breathing began to slow along with my sniffling. I looked at Violet through my blurry, tearful eyes.
“Thank you.”
Violet was a true friend, one of those special few we can only hope to meet once in our lifetime. The friend we want, but never deserve.
I smiled. “I guess I can repay you with my spot at Harvard.”
“Exactly. I’m not that altruistic. It’s better off for both of us.”
Even though it wasn’t going to be easy, especially after neglecting to work out for an extended period of time, I knew that it was my only option.
48
Corinne
“I’ve booked you a flight for this weekend. You’ll be staying with the Thatchers—”
I’d answered the call from my mother on the pretense of telling her that I wasn’t going to attend Harvard, but I hadn’t been able to get a single word in edgewise after my greeting. I could’ve set my phone down, made dinner, and come back to her still going on about all the super important people she was going to introduce me to.
