you're on your own, kid

Chapter 10 - Butter and Denial

I walked off the pitch with Jill and Lynn, loving that I get to be surrounded by my fellow Dutchies. Along with Viv, they were the two I was closest to at camp. As Lynn was close to my age, we often went through academy teams together, both playing for FC Twente. She was a good friend, and having her here, along with Jill, everything felt complete.

"So, Milly," Lynn said. "When's Ivy coming over next?" I laughed to myself, knowing the history between them two.

"Really? I thought you had gotten over her." Lynn looked at me, her eyes telling a different story.

"I mean, I tried to." I gave her a soft hug, leaning her body against mine.

"She's coming this week. Lena and I are going to throw a little party. Nothing big. But you can come." Lynn smiled a strained grin.

"Maybe."

"It'll be good maybe for you guys to talk."

"Probably." When I first found out about Lynn and Ivy, I wasn't shocked. Lynn would always come over after training to play on my Xbox until I realized she wasn't there for me, but her. Ivy had an energy that could pull anyone to her. I had left for Ajax when they first became an item, and at only 16, they would both tell me how they thought they'd found the one. The person they loved.

I would nod along, hoping they were both right because it hurt my heart to think any differently. But, love wasn't like that. It wasn't going to be only love, but pain too.

And as expected I was right. They broke up when Ivy moved to London, for uni. It wasn't pretty. I thought I would be stuck in the middle, but thankfully for me, I removed myself from any of it, fairly early on.

After training, Lena and I went home, and started to prepare dinner. We had set up a system. I would cook, and she would clean. I would never trust Lena to make something, now that I thought of it. Her lack of skills was painfully obvious.

"I have a question," she said to me, as I was clocking away in the kitchen.

"Okay..."

"Rumor has it: Jill and Ingrid. You have to fill me in." I laughed, as Lena drank from her bottle.

"Honestly, I haven't heard much from either of them. Ingrid's now in Spain. Like, surely it won't work?"

"You don't think long-distance relationships could work?" Lena then asked, with a subtlety to her voice I didn't quite understand.

"I mean, do you?"

"If you love the person strong enough, then yeah, I think it could."

"But it's not about love. It's about practicality."

"I disagree. It's always about love, Bakker."

"Love is a construct," I replied, meeting her case. It was a statement I had repeated too many times throughout my life, and childhood, something Mama would always tell me. It was a protection. From her. From me.

She sighed as if my response was expected. "Bakker, you can't deny that love is what gives life meaning. I mean, it's the moments of love that we find ourselves and purpose."

I turned around to focus on the pot that was on the stove, contemplating her words. There was only once when I believed in love. Wasn't with Mama, or Papa. "It can be beautiful, but only for the lucky ones."

She came over to me, taking the wooden spoon out of my hand, and placing it on the countertop. "Is it not worth the risk? To experience that deep of a connection? Something so profound that it can transcend everything else."

There was something about all of this. We both knew. Her and me. Me and her. We stood there, mere inches away from each other.

"I don't know," I soon responded, moving away, and grabbing the wooden spoon. "Maybe one day." She knew that this was her queue to go back to her stool, sitting on it, as I continued to cook our food.