by Tara Wimble
She calls out the switches John’s asked her to make and then takes her place alongside Whemb up top. Carla is able to push forward like she’d wanted in the first half and then the chances start.
Mostly by the US. Bella gets her first on field taste of panic watching Buchanan and Jacque close in on a rapidly sprinting Taniya Holden, allowing Sadie to collect the ball. The second comes only a little while later as she’s marking Engen in the box and Abby’s diving header looks to be a bullet past Sadie, all but for the grace of their youngest defender getting her body in front of it. Sophie clears it out of the box and she breathes again.
At least until Carli Lloyd streaks down the right side and Jacque goes following her. Bella is at halfway when Jacque goes in for the tackle, losing the ball and the race and ending the bout face down holding her shin. Bella almost sprints forward, she wants to- man down- but Whemb is by her shoulder and puts a hand there telling her to hang back. They have a game to play still. Seconds later Jacque is up and play resumes.
Her heart almost beats her sprinting feet in the 90th minute as she has the chance to get them on the board. A goal in front of a home crowd, she can’t think of anything better, except for it to be from Jacque. From the middle right, Jacque gives her a perfect cross into the box and Bella gets a foot on it. One touch and then she’s cut off by the strong forms of Rampone and Engen, clearing the ball and any chance of scoring from her mind.
That’s as close as they get. No shots on goal.
There’s no Olympic epic. There’s no Whemb pulling a hat trick for the home crowd or a dazzling come back. There’s Taniya Holden doing what she does best and beating five defenders for a second straight goal and Sadie pounding her gloved hands on the ground.
It’s Whemb screaming for someone to feed her the ball and getting no answer. It’s the sound of thousands of bitter Canadian fans booing Sydney Leroux for fifteen straight minutes, like Bella hadn’t done the same thing as she had, only to be silenced in the worst way possible.
Then it’s Jacque slapping a hand on her shoulder as Sydney grabs the front of her shirt and gestures it to the abusive crowd, celebrating their three untested and unanswered goals. It’s the only time since the Olympics that Bella has felt unable to look at the US crest and flinch away from it.
*
For all their booing and counting and wanting redemption, the result was worse than the last time.
Whemb doesn’t have any excuses for them.
They should have done better and everyone knows it and this isn’t the momentum they thought they’d be carrying out of the Olympics. But John comes into the locker room and tells them that they can only get better from this performance and that’s the only thing that lifts their spirits in the slightest.
“Team dinner?” Oliv calls out because no one has left yet and she hasn’t been around everyone in so long that it’s almost like a family reunion despite the result on the field. “Let’s eat some food, get drunk, and forget about the US for a few hours.”
That’s a plan that everyone can get behind so they end up at a pizza place close to BMO Field that can accommodate their team size and the alcohol demands of more than twenty bummed out soccer players.
The staff look slightly overwhelmed as they continue to file in the door and take up a good majority of the tables.
Jacque manages to snag a prime seat at the head of the table and without thinking about it Bella immediately sits down right next to her.
She knows that most of the bad blood is passed when nobody makes a snide comment under their breath or even takes a second glance at the seating arrangements. It’s refreshing that people can see that they’re moving on so they should too.
She was honestly worried that perhaps she’d lost her standing in the locker room for the long haul. But Sadie’s not-so-subtle thumbs up encourages her otherwise.
Despite Jacque claiming that she wants a full pizza to herself they end up compromising on toppings and sharing their own.
It’s a great moment as the banter slowly starts to pick up as the drinks flow and stomachs get filled.
The loss isn’t one they’ll forget for a long time but pushing towards a World Cup hosted in their country perhaps that’s not the worst thing in the world. After the medal they need something to keep them hungry, keep them working towards the ultimate goal, and losing to the US always seems to leave a bitter taste in their mouths.
It won’t be long before they all disperse to head back to their respective club teams, and lives for some of them. But Bella takes another bite of her slice and smiles at Jacque’s animated conversation with Kadeisha, the only one of them without a drink, and decides that going back to real life might not be such a bad thing.
*
“Are you not freaked out by the number of pictures of you around this office?”
Bella forgets that she’s attaching a camera to pretty much between her boobs and turns around. “It’s a good marketing technique. I’m adorable.”
She looks up and Jacque is staring at her chest. The camera, she knows, but it’s in the area of her chest and well shit, that brings back memories.
“What the heck are you doing?”
Bella flaps, unsure whether to cross her arms or put her hands on her hips. “New segment. We’re exploring the Red Stars office.”
Jacque is smirking when she looks at the camera again. “And you’re doing it from dwarf height because...?”
“Ha,” Bella coughs. “Ha ha. Just go get ready-”
Jacque looks around the office, expecting the outfit to jump out at her but there’s nothing laid out. “Did you prepare for this show or no?”
Bella adjusts the fake hipster glasses she’s wearing to look more official as a host. “The polo’s are on the table-”
“I should be glad it’s not the savage shirt-”
Bella snaps her fingers. “You take that back. Sadie’s neck was totally fine after she wore it despite what she’s told you.”
Jacque finds one of the polo shirts on the table. It doesn’t occur to Bella to tell her to get changed in the side office so she’s a little taken aback when Jacque pulls off the shirt she’s wearing in front of her.
Of course it’s strange because this is exactly like getting changed in the locker rooms except they’re the only two in the room and things have been on the up lately. She hasn’t been getting as many ‘you cheating scumbag’ tweets and with Jacque being invited to record the show with her after Jackie’s trade, they’ve been getting along.
Jacque struggles to get her head through the small neck of the polo and has to drag her hair through it too. Bella finds herself staring dumbly at her arms.
But there’s a difference between getting along and noticing that Jacque has better than average arms. Bella watches as the biceps tense and flex as Jacque works the polo over her head.
Way better than average.
When she gets the shirt over her head, Jacque’s concern is not on Bella suddenly perving on her, but on the device. “Hey, turn the boob cam off. This isn’t the bonus feature for the internet.”
“Like the internet wants to see that.” Bella has to turn it into a joke because she’s been caught out, at least in her own mind. She can’t be sure that Jacque noticed anything but she noticed herself noticing and she’s been doing it more and more frequently and catching herself fewer and fewer.
Jacque scoffs indignantly. “I have fangirls!”
Bella can’t help but turn away from Jacque to mask her smile at the preening. She throws a sarcastic ‘yeah ok’ over her shoulder and that’s cue enough for Jacque to follow her, all the while talking about her fangirls and making height jokes at Bella’s expense.
The whole time Bella is less offended and more endeared and that’s when she realizes that maybe this is more than just a minor annoyance.
*
Bella spends a lot of time thinking about London. Not in words or coherent meaning really because that’s lost as soon as the
context of the moment, and how it happened because they both let their guards down, comes crashing in. She thinks in flashes of emotion. How it made her feel.
At the time it was hard to feel anything but the physical. The pleasure of it, however unexpected, couldn’t be denied. After that, it became harder with the pressures of the lies and the responsibilities they’d stacked against them started to push in on them.
Leaving London, then Canada after the success of the bronze medal started to wane, for Paris was the best thing she could do at the time.
It wasn’t a situation she could be around. Paris was a world away.
Yet there, she had all the time to think about what had just happened.
They’d slept together. After the ceremonies had ended and the formal engagements and interviews, they’d forgotten everything up until they’d almost kissed. When everything came crashing back onto their shoulders they should have parted and stayed angry. That should have been the end of it.
Instead Jacque had pushed her against a wall and made it clear that the desire wasn’t just on her part and Bella knew that too. It could have ended there. But it didn’t.
It ended the morning after with Bella lying on her stomach naked with Jacque’s arm resting on the small of her back and all pretense shattered. They couldn’t take something like that back. The divorce would still happen, moving out and telling the team would still happen and all the backlash to come. Sex didn’t change any of that.
But it triggered something else. A slow burn of doubt in Bella’s mind that festered the further away she got from Jacque. In close contact it was easier to think that this was the script they were still following to make people believe. That it was all according to some grand plan. Going to Paris was for the best so she could breathe but that meant the burning thought did too.
There’s a part of her that just wishes it was black and white. That she could clearly say that she was gay or bisexual or somewhere on the spectrum but it’s not something she feels a pull to. Sometimes when she loses herself in the dark daydreams about it, Jacque seems to exist on a different line to the black and the white.
There were dates in Paris. Just lunch and drinks and her teammates wanting to see her cheer up a little. Tobin had been the only one who’d relented, knowing that things weren’t going well, but it hadn’t stopped Bella from seeing people. Men with suits and men with scarves. Those who took her walking and sightseeing, those who were content to talk as much as the language barrier allowed. Never anything more than that.
Bella rolls over on the pillow she’s brought to the couch and tugs the blanket up over her chest again. There’d been a woman.
Even now thinking about it she feels incredibly guilty that she’d even tried to figure this out with someone other than Jacque. The woman was just someone who knew her on the team, not a fan but not uninterested either. Most people who knew her in Paris, knew her for the Olympics or for Jacque, and this woman knew both. Had asked her out. And she’d said yes.
It was nice. A table between them and better English than most of the men had provided. Taller and sweet. Interesting and funny.
But the click that she’d gotten with the men wasn’t there. Even worse it paled in comparison to the rush of blood to her head, the spark of the interaction, the attraction that she felt with Jacque. The attraction that she hadn’t even realized at the time. Something had been off. She wasn’t Jacque and therefore Bella found she wasn’t interested in the woman. Or the few who approached thereafter.
Black and white didn’t fit her. Her attraction to men overpowered her attraction to women, completely, yet her exception dwarfed those feelings altogether.
“You’re thinking really loudly.” Bella looks over to where Jacque is sitting on the armchair. For a second Jacque still watches the TV like she hasn’t said anything, before looking at Bella. “You okay?”
Bella smushes her face into the pillow a tad more. She’s still figuring this out. This swooning flutter in her heart. “Getting there.”
Jacque softens. “Do you want me to turn this off so you can sleep?”
They’re still waiting for a new bed to be delivered for the guest room and taking turns on the double bed. It’s not that they can’t share but sharing a bed when the script they once followed when everyone thought they were together has been derailed. There’s no new line to follow and Bella can’t help but be concerned that sharing a bed again would press new meanings onto their new relationship apart, faster than Bella has time to figure it out for herself.
“I’m okay.”
She lets the TV burn against her skin like faded tattoos.
Maybe this isn’t about black and white, or even sexuality. If asked, there’d be no hesitation to say that she’s straight and maybe that’s the truth.
Bella peeks at Jacque’s relaxed expression.
But maybe it’s not the whole truth.
*
Bella stays in Chicago for the holidays. Christmas passes after a short residency camp and before she knows it she’s back home giving out presents and waking up on New Year’s Eve.
Originally she was bound to go out with a few girls from college and teammates, celebrating downtown until the sun came up on a new year. That’s before she’d accepted her mom’s offer to stay with them for the week and instantly become a homebody again.
She’d spent her time reorganizing her room and clearing away the demons that emerged the last time she was here. Looking at the brighter, cleaner and newly painted walls of her childhood room makes her feel a lot better about staying here and coming back home more often in the future.
Going out was abandoned the moment that she tried to work up the energy to actually get ready so instead she’s weaving in and out of her family and close friends who’ve come to drink and to watch the ball drop on TV. She’s wearing black jeans a sleeveless green top, it’s not completely casual but passable for the occasion. The music isn’t loud, she could hear it from her old bedroom before her mom dragged her downstairs in an attempt to introduce her to her cousin’s friend’s brother who is conveniently single. How about that.
In all honesty, he’s not bad. He’s had just enough to drink that she doesn’t rolls her eyes when he kisses both her cheeks upon introduction. Brian, he says, you must be Bella. She admires his tie, pulling on it when he straightens it up, before engaging with him. Her mom must be beaming in the background.
He’s attractive. She’d be stupid not to see it. But since Paris and the string of men muttering French under their breaths to her, she’s become dulled to the clean cut boys and the roguish men in suits. When she hints at getting another drink he doesn’t offer to come with her or get one for her so she ends up standing there talking to him with an empty glass in her hand wishing she could feel interested.
It doesn’t come to her.
Polite conversation was forced as much as she could, counting the minutes until she could excuse herself and hide back in her room. Except the moment she falls away from Brian, she’s being tugged towards another of her sister’s best friend’s mother’s uncles, David, before she can even get a drink.
It’s the same story. The same almost numb attraction to him and his kind eyes as he compliments her outfit and asks her if she wants to dance. He becomes too polished in her mind. There’s no unrestrained joy when she does reluctantly spend a song or two dancing with him, they’re not the only ones dancing but they’re the only ones who seem to be taking it seriously.
In fact, he’s taking it way too seriously and she’s surprised to find that she’s annoyed at how good of a dancer he is.
“Do you want to get a drink?” He asks. She’s not thirsty anymore and so she begs off another dance to make her way to her room again.
The hollowness in her stomach at being matched up over and over again continues as she realizes that there’s nothing in there to chase after. Not when she’s caught against the pull of a bigger tide. Everything seems to pale in comparison.
Her mom catches her arm before she can retreat and suddenly she’s being steered to another one of her friends. “Have you met James?”
Somehow despite her mother completely believing and being appropriately devastated over her divorce with Jacque, she doesn’t introduce her to any women.
After James though Bella is ready to run out of the house to escape the onslaught of financially stable and clean shaven guys with glasses when her brother comes to save her.
“Bella! Bella!” Jake shouts over the sound of people singing along to the music. Bella can barely understand what he’s saying, but all too desperate to get away from her mom, she latches onto him and he pulls her out into the hall. “Someone’s on the phone for you-”
And then he’s jumping back into the fray leaving her with his phone. Fanning herself with her hand she puts the phone to her ear and pushes up her rapidly deflating hair. The reflection she looks at in the mirror maps the instant rush of delight in her expression when she answers the phone.
“Happy New Year, Thunder!”
Jacque. Just hearing her voice sends a flush of red to her face, the first of the colour not triggered by the alcohol she’s consumed to get through the night.
“Would you let me live it down if I said you had perfect timing?” Bella sighs out.
Jacque’s laugh is teasing. “Wouldn’t be the first time a girl’s told me that.”
“Oh, Jacque.” She’s drawn to the clock in the hall. “You’re a bit early actually.”
Jacque mutters something about not hearing that from girls and Bella begins to miss her even more. “I thought that I’d better call now before it becomes impossible to leave anything other than a well meaning voicemail that you won’t listen to in the morning.”
“I’m glad you called.” Bella admits before she can think better of it. She’s been getting closer to finally being at peace with her feelings but there’s a difference between feeling it and saying it.
