Last Call

by Kelly, A. S.

  She bites her lip nervously. She seems uncomfortable, as if she’s unsure of what she’s just done.

  “Was that not why you came here?” I ask her, moving away so that I can look at her.

  Jordan lifts herself up and tucks her still-wet hair behind her ear.

  “I should go.”

  “What?” I get up, too. “Where?”

  “H-home.”

  I stand there, confused, as she gathers up her clothes.

  “I don’t get it.”

  She tugs her T-shirt over her head and grabs her trousers.

  “I only came here for this.”

  I nod slowly, starting to understand. “And by ‘this’, you mean sex.”

  “I thought I’d made myself perfectly clear.”

  I step towards her, wanting to stroke her cheek, but she lowers her gaze, turning her head away from me.

  “You said you came here to be with me.”

  “Only for tonight. No agreements.”

  “Of course,” I say, a bitter laugh escaping me. “I’m such an idiot.”

  “Isn’t that what we both wanted?”

  “Before. Before I sat at the table with you in that restaurant. Before all the messages, the phone calls. Before your sofa. Before I held your hand in mine. Before all the chocolate.”

  I watch her, my heart slamming against my chest.

  “Before us.”

  “This is the only ‘us’ that we can have.”

  She pulls on her jogging bottoms and heads towards the barn door. I follow her quickly, pushing against the wood before she can open it. My body is pressed against hers, my hand resting next to her head. My breath is on her neck.

  “What happened, Jordan? This isn’t you.”

  “You know nothing about me, Kerry.”

  “That’s not true. I’ve seen you. I know who you are.”

  She turns and leans her back against the door.

  “What is it? Tell me. I have a right to know.”

  She doesn’t look at me. Her eyes are glued to our feet.

  “He…” She bites her lip, trying not to cry. “Him…and her…” The first tear trickles slowly into the corner of her mouth. “He never wanted kids. He didn’t want us to be a family,” she says, her voice trembling. “I wanted to build something with him. I wanted children, a family of my own. Something I never had.”

  I listen to her, my heart suspended, paralysed, in my ribcage.

  “I wanted to be happy.”

  I don’t even know if I’m still breathing.

  “She’s pregnant. They’re getting married in two months’ time.”

  She finally looks at me; and I wish she never had.

  “It was me he didn’t want.”

  “When did you find out?”

  She doesn’t answer. She can’t hold back her tears any longer.

  “When, Jordan?” My voice is raising beyond my control. I slam my hand against the wooden door, making her jump.

  “T-tonight.”

  “So that’s why you came here?”

  “I just wanted to forget about everything.”

  “You used me.” I pull away from her and take a few steps back.

  “I didn’t mean to… I didn’t want to—”

  “What didn’t you want?”

  “I didn’t want things to go this way.”

  “So that’s all I am to you? Someone to pass the time with?”

  “Niall…”

  “Someone you can’t be seen with? Someone you’re ashamed of?”

  Her guilty expression is an answer in itself.

  “What am I to you, Jordan?”

  “I can’t.”

  “You can’t what?”

  “I’ve already had my heart broken before.”

  I stand there, frozen, as I receive my sentence.

  “I have nothing left to give you.”

  Jordan

  The next day, I message Iris to tell her that I’m not feeling well and that I can’t meet her for lunch. I tell her I’d rather stay in bed and rest; but around midday, she turns up at my door with a paper bag full of food.

  “This isn’t the flu, honey.”

  I smile sadly at her.

  “Luckily, old Iris is here to take care of you.”

  “Please tell me there’s chocolate in that bag.”

  She pulls out two bottles of wine.

  “That’ll work, too.”

  * * *

  I didn’t have much of an appetite, but Iris insisted on making me a bacon, lettuce and cheese sandwich; wine on an empty stomach is probably not the best idea.

  “What hurt you the most, darling?” she asks, after I’ve finished telling her about everything that happened in the restaurant, and everything that Steven had said. “The fact that he’s happy now, or the fact that you’re not?”

  “The fact that, because of him, I can’t be happy anymore,” I say, thinking of me and Niall, and everything I said to him; the way I hurt him.

  “I can’t understand why.”

  “Really?” I ask, almost angry.

  “He isn’t the one who gets to decide your future, honey.”

  “He ruined my life.”

  “He hurt you and disappointed you.”

  “And that doesn’t count?”

  “He’s your past, Jordan. You can’t let him determine your future, too. You’re giving him too much space in your life.”

  I finish my wine then lean back against the headboard. Caramel pads immediately over, curling up in my lap. I stroke her slowly as she gazes lovingly up at me.

  “I wanted it.”

  “Wanted what?”

  “A family with him. I wanted so many things, Iris. I wanted a house outside the city. I wanted to do the gardening at the weekend, to bake cookies,” I say bitterly, as Iris squeezes my arm affectionately. “I wanted children. I wanted a forever.” I look at her; tears are choking me. “I wanted everything I never had.”

  “I’m so sorry, darling.”

  “He didn’t want the same things – and now I understand why.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “It was me that he didn’t want.”

  Iris sighs, her eyes deepening.

  “It was all just a load of bullshit. The only thing preventing him from being happy was me. I wasn’t the woman he wanted,” I conclude sadly.

  “You two weren’t meant to be together.”

  “Why did I not see that?”

  “You were in love.”

  “I was stupid. And I still am.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I thought that…” I glance at Iris, who is patiently waiting for an explanation. “I thought I could do it again.”

  “Do what again?”

  “Fall in love. Want something for myself.”

  “Are you talking about Niall Kerry?”

  “I was so close to falling again.”

  “I don’t understand what you’re talking about, love. Is there something you’re not telling me?”

  “I almost believed.”

  “Then what happened?”

  “Nothing, Iris. I opened my eyes. And I have no intention of closing them again.”

  “What are you talking about? Did he do something? Did he let you down? Hurt you?”

  I shake my head. “He was perfect. It was like a script.”

  “I’m not following.”

  “Him wanting me, telling me he’d changed thanks to me, him accepting me for who I am. I’ve already seen this film – and it always ends with someone who criticises your every move. Someone who sleeps with someone else, then marries her, has a baby with her. They all say the same thing. They all tell you that they love you, that they want you in their life; then one day, they realise that you’re not actually what they want.”

  “They’re not all like that, Jordan.”

  “Maybe not. But don’t plan to find out if that’s true.”

  I watch as the rain hammers against m
y bedroom window, phone in hand. There are two empty bottles of wine on my bedside table, along with the remains of an afternoon spent eating rubbish. Iris left at about five this evening. I promised her I’d have a shower and try to distract myself – maybe by reading a good thriller instead of a romance novel, or by watching a horror film on TV. I told her I’d relax and take some time to think about what I was doing.

  But I haven’t done any of that.

  I’ve been sitting here, on my bed, with Caramel keeping me company. I’m still in my pyjamas, staring out the window and twiddling my phone around in my hands. I want to call him, to explain what’s going on – but the fear that this will just be yet another endlessly-repeating story is stopping me from pressing that button.

  I miss him; I never expected to miss him. Maybe that’s what scares me the most.

  Wanting a man in my life again, waiting for him to come home, or seeing him standing at the hob, cooking, when I get in late from work. A man to ask me how my day was, who kisses my forehead when I fall asleep before him. A man who holds my hand in the darkness of the cinema; who wants to make love to me, to show me that, for him, I’m the only woman in the world.

  These are all things I had, once: things that were snatched away from me. Things that I missed so much that I thought I’d never be able to breathe again. Things I’m terrified of wanting from the man I’ve just pushed out of my life forever.

  I don’t know why I ran to him. I was vulnerable and in shock. I was hurt, lonely – I desperately wanted to feel something other than my own blinding pain. But I made the worst decision I could’ve made: I hurt someone else. I used him, just like he said.

  I glance at my phone again, then drop it back onto the bed, letting myself fall back onto the mattress. Maybe it’s best if I just stay here, like this. Maybe it’s best if he hates me, stops seeking me out, trying to find his way into my life. It’s best if he stops trying to make me feel again.

  ‘It’s better like this’, I tell myself, as I thrash around on my bed, trying to find the right place to curl myself up into a ball. ‘It’s better like this’, I tell myself again, but it’s too late; I’ve already come to terms with the idea that my tears and my pain have taken on a new form, now; a new name.

  Niall

  By the middle of the first half, we’re losing by one goal, demoralised and fed up. After drawing in the first match, a loss here would mean the end of the team – and of the tournament.

  I know I shouldn’t care. Especially after Jordan used me like an old, torn-up T-shirt, then threw me in with the dirty laundry; but what can I say? I have a problem with losing, and I don’t intend to make my peace with it now. I don’t want to lose out on this field, with a local team from a tiny fucking town in the middle of nowhere. I especially don’t want to lose in front of the entire city, who are already waiting for me to fail.

  “He can’t do it,” Tyler says, standing with me at the sidelines.

  “Who?”

  “The goalkeeper.”

  I turn my gaze to the player and scoff. He was injured during our last training session, and told me it was just a sprain. He said he’d be fine for the match – but the painful twist of his expression says otherwise.

  “There’s only one more substitution we can make,” I say, concerned.

  “We can’t leave him there.”

  I take off my cap and wipe my brow. I have no idea why I’m sweating so much, given I’m not even playing.

  “So?” Tyler presses.

  I turn back towards the bench and pray that I’m making the right decision.

  “Carter!”

  “Oh, fuck,” Tyler murmurs dramatically.

  “Off your arse, kid. You’re up.”

  “Me?” he asks, panic-stricken.

  “The goalie is injured.”

  “But I—”

  “You can do it. You don’t even have to run.”

  He gets up and trudges over towards us. I place my hands on his shoulders and look him in the eyes.

  “I trust you, kid.”

  “O-okay.”

  “You have to protect that goal like it’s your own home. Don’t let anything into your home, Carter, or we’re all fucked.”

  “That’s not exactly encouraging,” Tyler points out.

  “What would you know?”

  He raises his hands in surrender and leaves the talking to me.

  “This is your chance,” I say to Carter, gesturing behind us, where my daughter is watching.

  He knows exactly what I’m talking about.

  “Show her that you know how to protect the things you care about.”

  He flashes me a shy smile and nods, as Tyler calls the referee over to tell him about our substitution. I glance over at the crowd and see my daughter giving me a thumbs-up; behind her, just two rows away, sits the only person I can think about.

  I haven’t seen her for a week – not since that night. She didn’t come to training, and I was hoping she wouldn’t come to the match, either; seeing her and pretending that she hasn’t broken my heart is worse than not seeing her and still pretending that someone else hasn’t broken hers.

  I wave at her and she smiles tightly back at me; I go back to work, hoping that this will be the only thing I can still do well in my life. I mean, I’m a pretty crap father, and an even worse man – so I try to concentrate on the match, on my team, and on the remote possibility that we can really do this. I promised Jordan that we’d win, and, despite everything, I don’t want to let her down. I’m a grown man with a mission: never to disappoint anyone in my life, ever again.

  * * *

  By the beginning of the second half, the team seem even more tense than before. Carter is defending as well as he can – even though I think he may have just got lucky with the last two shots.

  I yell at the kids to bring forward their attack, and at least try to recover some of the points we’re missing. I’m pacing up and down the sidelines, agitated, trying to make them listen to me.

  “You’ll give yourself a heart attack.”

  “Shut up and give me a hand. It’s like they’re not listening to me.”

  “You really care about your team, don’t you?”

  “I care about winning, Tyler.”

  “Mmm.”

  “Now is not the time for another one of your theories. We’re still in the middle of the match, and our goalie is still scared of his own bloody shadow. Don’t you think we may be in the shit, here?”

  Tyler laughs and whistles at one of the team to come over.

  “The coach wants to talk to you,” he says, giving me the floor.

  Is it really that easy? Why have I not done this before?

  “Yes, Coach?”

  “I just want one thing from you, kid.”

  He nods, listening intently.

  “I want you to shoot that fucking ball,” I say, pointing towards it, “into that fucking goal,” I say, gesturing towards the opponents’ goal.

  “O-okay,” he says, confused. Tyler laughs.

  “Easy, right?”

  “Y-yes, Coach.”

  “Then why the fuck aren’t you doing it?!” I yell, attracting the attention of the referee.

  The boy runs, startled, back onto the field, going back to his teammates, as I prepare myself to deal with Tyler’s commentary.

  “Wow.”

  “Fuck off.”

  “Great speech.”

  “I decided to go straight for threats.”

  “You think that’ll help?”

  “Oh, fuck…”

  “What?”

  I grab Tyler by the T-shirt and pull him towards me.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck…” I step closer to the field. “Run, for fuck’s sake! Run!”

  “I don’t believe it.”

  “Yes! Yes! Fuck, yes!” I jump up and down, still holding onto Tyler, as I take in the miracle that just unfolded before our eyes; the entire team runs towards us to celebrate their goal. When the referee
signals them to get back into position, we try to compose ourselves – but adrenaline is coursing through my veins. I turn back to the crowd, who have sat down to watch the rest of the match; but her eyes are still on me. I lift my cap, and she flashes me a weak smile that makes me feel – for a moment – okay again. Maybe I’m not the man that she wants: someone to go out for dinner with, someone to hold her hand or kiss her in public. Someone to introduce her to his family. I may not be the man she wants to love, but I definitely won’t be the man who lets her down again.

  * * *

  “Have you seen my daughter?” I ask Tyler as I’m gathering up my things.

  “She was on the bleachers a moment ago. Maybe she’s already gone to the car.” He hands me the whiteboard with the team tactics scribbled across it. “See you tonight, then?”

  Oh, right. We won. I still can’t believe it. And, swept up in the joy of it all, I’ve invited the whole team out for pizza. This job is starting to cost me more than I’m earning.

  “At seven. Don’t be late.”

  Tyler waves and hurries off the field. I head towards the car park, but as soon as I pass the bleachers, I feel a hand grab my arm, pulling me back.

  “What the…?”

  Jordan’s hand is covering my mouth. I’d be bullshitting if I said that the feeling of her fingers brushing against my lips didn’t cause a dull pain to throb through my chest.

  She slowly moves her hand away and points towards my car, where my daughter is practically crushed against the driver door, held there by Carter’s mouth.

  “Are you kidd—?” Jordan’s hand flies up to my mouth again, harder this time.

  “Don’t say another word.”

  “Mmm… Hmm… Argh.”

  “What?”

  She lets me speak. “That’s my daughter!”

  “Yes, I know,” she says, calmly.

  “And she’s one of your students. They’re both your students!”

  “Yes.”

  “Isn’t it against school rules or something?”

  “We’re not at school.”

  “Right. But she’s still my daughter, and he’s a kid who’s pretty close to taking his last breath.”