Old Fashioned

by Steiner, Kandi

  “Alright,” she said, tying her hair up in a knot on her head before her eyes locked on mine. “Let’s get this awkward conversation out of the way now, shall we?”

  It was unfortunate that I’d just exhaled instead of inhaled, because I held my breath from the moment she sat down, waiting for her to continue.

  “So, we kissed,” she said, as if we were discussing a player who got hurt on the team and what to do about it instead of everything I’d worried about for the past forty-eight hours. “I think we can both agree that we were tired, it’d been a long day, we had been drinking and we were talking about some pretty heavy things and neither of us were thinking clearly.”

  I kept my mouth shut, because while I could agree with some of that, I didn’t agree with the last part.

  I was thinking very clearly when I pressed my lips to hers.

  “The first thing I want to address is…” She paused, rolling her lips together. Her eyes that had been so fiercely on mine fell to something on my desk — an object serving as a focal point, I imagined. “I just don’t want you to think that you did anything wrong, because you didn’t. I…” She swallowed. “I also took part in what happened, and it was not one-sided or anything.”

  Her eyes flicked to mine, but they didn’t stay there long.

  “That being said, I have a lot on my plate right now with my recent divorce, and with Paige, and I just…” She sat a little straighter, finally looking at me again. “Frankly, I do not have the capacity to be… like that… with anyone right now. And I think we both agree that even if I did, it shouldn’t be my boss. I know there are no written rules or anything, but you and I both know that I can’t… we can’t…”

  I remained silent, though I was very aware of how tight my chest was at those words.

  “Anyway, I wanted to come directly to your office this afternoon so we could just put this all behind us. What do you think?”

  My eyes bulged, because it was my time to speak and I hadn’t even breathed since she’d walked into my office.

  I started there, inhaling a stiff breath before I nodded, schooling my features. “Yes. Of course, totally.”

  “So, we’re in agreement, then?” she asked. “We can just pretend like it never happened?”

  “Like what never happened?”

  Her jaw dropped a little, but then she let out a relieved sigh on a smile when she realized what I’d done. “Exactly.”

  I faked my best smile in return while my stomach continued to tie itself into knots. But, the longer I watched her, the more I knew I had to say. “Sydney… I really am sorry.”

  She held up her hand quickly. “Please, don’t. You don’t need to apologize. It never happened. Okay?”

  I frowned, but nodded, nonetheless.

  “Does this mean…” I started, but then paused, reframing what I wanted to ask. “I was hoping… just because I know she was excited about it, and I don’t want her to think I bailed on her or anything… would it be okay if I still worked with Paige from time to time?” I held up my hands. “Not all the time,” I clarified quickly. “Just… you know, whenever it works out. I just would love to keep working with her and help her get ready for camp next summer.”

  Sydney smiled, letting out a long exhale that was calmer than any breath had been in that room since she walked into it. “Of course,” she said. “You’re always welcome.”

  I returned her smile, and though there was still something new and uncomfortable that existed between us now, at least the conversation was had, and we could begin to put it all behind us.

  My chest tightened again, as if it was protesting that I had just agreed to forget what was honestly the best kiss of my life, but I ignored it, standing instead.

  “Welp, I’m going to go get these boys fired up for another week of practice.”

  Sydney stood abruptly, too. “Yep, I’m going to go get my tables set up and ready. I’ve got a few injuries to follow up with today and I’ll give you a report of who we need to keep an eye on by the end of practice.”

  “Sounds good,” I said with my eyes on my clipboard as we made our way out of my office. “Oh, and can you do some soft tissue work on Martinez’s right shoulder?” I added. “He’s been rubbing it after almost every throw, and the last thing I need is a second-string quarterback who can’t perform if he’s subbed in.”

  “I’m on it,” she assured me, already heading down the hall toward her office.

  And just like that, it was back to work.

  Like nothing ever happened.

  And so the week went.

  Everything was back to normal, in the sense that they were far from normal, but at least we were pretending. My days passed with teaching my P.E. classes and weightlifting, evenings passed at practice with me and Sydney dutifully dancing around each other, all the while being “normal,” and at night, I fell back into my routine, meal prepping and running and working through entries in Dad’s journal.

  Part of me wondered if it really was only me who felt like we were pretending. Sydney seemed fine, as far as I could tell. She was focused on the field and in her office, not skipping so much as one beat after our conversation on Monday.

  I wondered if anyone could tell that I was on the opposite end of that spectrum.

  It drove me mad that I couldn’t drop it, but I tried my best, reminding myself of our conversation.

  It was a mistake.

  We were tired and tipsy.

  It’s not a big deal.

  It never happened.

  On Thursday night, I was successfully distracted, my nose buried in my playbook as I mapped out my strategy to take on the Conway Chargers. It would be another away game for us, and though the team was on a high from the win the week before, I knew it would be important to keep them focused and run the plays that we were nailing over and over in practice.

  I wanted to play this game safe and bring home another win without any fanfare. That was my goal.

  My eyes were starting to blur with all the x’s and o’s when my phone buzzed on the coffee table where my feet were propped. I scrubbed my hands down my face, moving my playbook to the side and smiling when I saw my baby brother’s face on the screen.

  “Well, if it isn’t the city slicker,” I answered, kicking back on the couch again.

  “Hey, old man,” Mikey teased back. “I was worried I might not get an answer, what with it being eight o’clock and all. I know that’s past your bedtime.”

  I smiled, though my chest ached a bit, too. Mikey was the first of us to move away from Stratford — likely, the only one who ever would — and the Becker clan felt a little unsteady without him here.

  “How are you?” I asked.

  “All is good over here, just getting settled in still. The art gallery is pretty cool, and Kylie has been volunteering. She got a job helping out at the hospital, too. When we’re not working, we’re exploring the city. Kylie’s dad put together a list of all her mom’s favorite places from when she lived here, so we’ve been working through that.”

  I smiled. “That sounds fun. And you sound good.”

  “I am good,” he replied, and I could hear the smile even though I couldn’t see it. Then, I heard a faint hi, Jordan! in the background, and my smile grew. “Kylie says hi, by the way.”

  “Tell her I said hi back, and to keep you in line up there.”

  “Like you even have to tell me, that’s my number one job,” I heard her reply, like she’d stolen the phone from Mikey altogether.

  I chuckled.

  “What about you?” Mikey asked. “How’s the season going? You ready for tomorrow night’s game?”

  I blew out a breath, tapping the playbook beside me with a longing look. “Working on getting ready, anyway. I mean, the team seems pumped, coming off a win last week, but with that giant L from week one still fresh in everyone’s mind, I don’t think anyone is unaware of the fact that this is an important game.”

  “One loss doesn’t make a se
ason, Big Bro.”

  “You sound like Mom. And I know,” I agreed. “But, it does serve as a pretty heavy weight on our shoulders.”

  “How’s it working out with the new trainer?”

  My throat constricted, heart stopping before it took a nose-dive into my gut and resurfaced again, beating faster. “It’s fine, everything is fine, why would you ask?”

  There was a pause. “Uh… well, because you seemed kind of worried about it when you were here? I mean, when you found out about her joining the team and all. I just was curious if it had been an issue.”

  “Oh,” I said quickly, and my next breath came easier. “Yeah, she’s been great. I made a bit of an ass of myself when she first joined, basically saying in not so many words that I was worried she’d be a distraction on the team.”

  “Jordan…”

  “I know,” I said before he could continue. “Not my proudest moment. But, I was stressed coming into the new season, and to be honest, I was worried that the guys would be distracted by her. And, to be clear, they are — but that’s not her fault. She’s doing her job, and doing a damn fine job of it, too. At first, the guys were all gaga for her, but they respect her now. She feels like part of the team already.”

  “That’s awesome,” Mikey said, but there was a hesitance in his voice. “Now… are you going to tell me why you reacted like a kid getting caught with his hand in the cookie jar when I asked you about her?”

  I opened my mouth to argue, but he cut me off before I could speak.

  “And don’t pretend like it’s nothing, because I know you better than that, and to save us both time we should just skip the part where I have to beat it out of you.”

  I wanted to be annoyed that my brother knew me so well, but I couldn’t help but smile, because I was this way with all of them, too.

  We could see through the bullshit when it came to each other, and that was part of what made our bond so strong.

  I sighed. “I don’t even know where to begin.”

  “How about you start with whatever is on your mind right now.”

  I worked the inside of my cheek. “I kissed her on Saturday night. She freaked out and basically kicked me out of her home. Then on Monday, she stormed into my office and said it was a drunken mistake and we should forget it ever happened.”

  “Ouch.”

  “And I agreed,” I continued. “Even though I don’t actually agree.”

  “I see.”

  “And I hate it,” I added, chest aching with the realization that I really, really did hate it. “Because we had a friendship, you know? I felt like… like I could talk to her, and like she was opening up to me. And we would joke with each other, and we worked well together, too… and now?” I sighed again. “We’re just dancing around each other, pretending like I didn’t cross the line and that everything is back to normal, when we don’t even have a normal, anymore.”

  Mikey was quiet for a long time, then he asked one simple question.

  “Do you still want to kiss her?”

  I frowned. “It doesn’t matter if I do or not.”

  “I guess what I mean is — when she said it was a mistake and you guys should forget about it, did you take that opportunity to tell her that you didn’t feel like it was a mistake, and that you’d like to try being more than friends?”

  “Mikey, she told me we should forget about it.”

  “I realize that,” he said. “But what I’m asking is does she know you feel this way?”

  “It doesn’t matt—”

  “It does!” Mikey’s voice was loud and firm, and I shut my mouth in response. “She told you it was a mistake, that you both were drunk, and you agreed and said yeah, let’s forget about it. What if there was a little bit of hope in her that it wasn’t a mistake? What if she was waiting to see what you said?”

  I frowned.

  “Look, I know you, Big Bro, and one thing I know is that you don’t misread signs when it comes to women. You are not an asshole, and you wouldn’t so much as think about making a move on a woman unless there was a real connection and consent. You’ve always been the gentleman, and you’ve always taken things slow with the women you’ve dated — and what’s more, there haven’t been many. So, if you crossed the line and kissed Sydney, I know for a fact that it was because you felt something, and you wouldn’t have felt something if she hadn’t felt it, too.”

  A little balloon of hope filled in my chest, but I popped it quickly. “It’s not that simple.”

  “It could be.”

  “I can’t just…” I threw my hand out, as if to show him all the reasons why. “Confess that I wanted to kiss her and that I still want to kiss her and that I think about her every damn minute of every day. This isn’t high school. We work together, Mikey. She technically works under my supervision, which makes me her boss, in a way. She’s already working against the odds as the only female on an all-male staff in a male-dominated sport, and she’s back to work for the first time in years. And,” I continued, running out of breath. “She has a daughter, and an ex-husband, and there are just a lot of complications at work here, okay?”

  My little brother didn’t respond for a long time. It was just me, breathing heavily, waiting for him to argue with me so I could fight him some more on the topic. But instead, after a long pause, he made a noise of understanding.

  “Well,” he said. “It sounds like you have your answer.”

  My chest was still rising and falling at a rapid rate, but when the urge to fight him left me, I was left in a hollow sadness wishing he would keep going, keep telling me reasons I was wrong.

  “Just pretend like it never happened and things are back to work as usual,” he continued. “She forgets about you, you forget about her. No harm, no foul. It was just a kiss, right?”

  A long, slow exhale left my chest. “Right,” I agreed, though my voice was soft and unsure.

  Mikey didn’t say anything, letting the silence sit between us, and I chewed on everything he’d said and every point I’d thrown back at him for the rest of our phone call. When we were all caught up and promised to talk again soon, I hung up the phone and stared at the blank screen of my television.

  “It was just a kiss,” I repeated out loud, to no one and to whoever might be listening — myself, included.

  Then, I picked up my playbook, and got back to distracting myself from all the lies.

  Sydney

  Fall began to make its descent on our little Tennessee town over the next two weeks. The days cooled to a beautifully perfect seventy to seventy-five degrees, and the evenings welcomed us with a crisp wind that brought chilly nights. It wasn’t quite cold enough to get the fireplace going yet, but it was getting there, and I reveled in the fact that I could wear leggings and a long-sleeve shirt without sweating.

  Margaret’s Bakery boasted the arrival of pumpkin bread and apple cider, Charlie Warren was already setting up his pumpkin patch on the edge of town, and I knew the corn maze wouldn’t be far behind.

  And most of all, football season was in full swing.

  It was our first home game since the one we’d opened the season with, and the Stratford stands were packed. We’d won all three of our away games since then, and our fans were anxious to see if we’d deliver a W at home tonight. Winning in any capacity was great, but winning in your own house was another level of high — and I could feel the pressure our players were putting on themselves to deliver.

  “Alright,” I said after wrapping our quarterback’s left ankle. I tapped the toe of his cleat. “Try not to get sacked, and I’ll re-wrap at halftime, if necessary.”

  Rodgers smiled, thanking me as he hopped up from the bench and jogged out to join his team warming up on the field. I packed away the tape in my training bag, looking over my notes on all the players to make sure I hadn’t forgotten anyone. My pre-game responsibilities felt natural to me now, and I loved that I had a routine.

  “Coach!”

  I followed the s
ound of someone calling out to Jordan, smiling curiously when I found an older man I recognized from when he’d helped Randy work on our busted pipe in our kitchen one afternoon years ago. He had dark brown skin and soft, kind eyes — and a crooked yellow grin that widened the longer he stood there. He wore a fedora on his head, one that matched the suspenders he wore, and he tipped it at Jordan as he made his way over to the sideline, leaning over the railing that separated us from the fans in the bleachers.

  “What say you, Eli?” Jordan asked, pressing his back to the gate next to where Eli stood. It made it where they could stand next to each other and talk, but he could still keep an eye on his team, too.

  “I say I’m looking forward to you bringing all those W’s you’ve gotten on the road home tonight.”

  Jordan raised his eyebrows, gaze following the throw Rodgers had just made to Smith on the field. “If all goes according to my plan, that’s exactly what you’ll see.” He glanced up at Eli before his eyes were on the field again. “Missed you at last week’s game.”

  Eli grumbled. “Yeah, well, they had a plumbing emergency down at the nursing home Friday evening. I couldn’t very well leave Ms. Betty Collins without a properly working toilet, as I’m sure you well know.”

  Jordan chuckled at that, and I found myself wondering who Betty Collins was, and my curiosity climbed the more I watched them together. That was, until the Mom Parade made their way to the fan side of the fence.

  I rolled my eyes at the way they leaned over it, giving glimpses of their cleavage, their eyes light and playful as they talked to Jordan. They asked if they could get him anything, if he needed a shoulder massage before the game, if he wanted to hang out after the game — and any time Jordan gave them an incredulous look, the women hid their intentions under a flurry of laughter, as if they were joking when we all knew they’d jump at the chance to have Jordan in their bed.

  I didn’t like the way my stomach soured at that thought.

  I couldn’t stop watching, and I wondered if he felt it, because as soon as the parade moved on, Jordan’s eyes met mine, and I tore my gaze away like I’d been caught.