Weekend Goal

Chapter 5 - Weak Left

"I NEED ONE OF YOU DOWN HERE! DON'T FUCKING MOVE SO FAR!" I yell at my defense.

"SHE HAS A WEAK LEFT! GET HER THERE!" Rose yells to her teammates.

And she's right. In the next minutes, two goals get in the net on my left side. She probably caught that up last week and now is using it against me.

"Are you going to spread that to the other teams? That I have a weak left?" I confront her during the water break.

"So what? It's the truth. Only a blind fool could have added you to the team. You are a liability."

"A liability? I'm not here to play on my own. Three people in the defense and you talk as if the whole game depends on me!"

"Ladies, calm down," Cooper gets in between us. "I need you to work together. Sanne, if you can come during the week, I can spend some time with you to strengthen that left side. London, I need you to work with the defense ladies. None should leave Sanne or Sage uncovered."

We return to the practice, and I pay better attention this time. The two goals of the first half are the only ones against my team and for the rest, we play decently.

"That wasn't so bad," Willow says as we walk to the showers.

"Maybe for you. How she dares to yell my weakness to the winds?"

"Rose gets a hot head when she's playing. She's quite nice most of the time."

"I find that difficult to believe," I chuckle.

After a warm shower to scrub the grime from my body, I dress in a cotton dress and move to the mirrors to comb my wet hair. I find Rose applying makeup. She watches me through the mirror reflection and throws her makeup bag in her purse before leaving.
I braid my hair with the hope of getting some kind of waves in the otherwise limp hair. Willow approaches me with a puppy look on her face.

"Are you available to have lunch with me? Everyone is busy. Alone is no fun."

"Sure. I can use good food."

We head towards her car, and I see Rose talking with a young guy. She caresses his face and kisses him on the cheek. He looks at the ground evidently embarrassed and then mounts a bike and leaves.

Willow brings me to the small café where we had tea the week before. We sit next to the window and a woman in a mix of gypsy and fairy clothes takes our order.

"Nothing like relaxing after a hard work out," Willow lazily stirs her cup of tea.

"Have you played long?"

"Only since college and always a midfielder. Not fast enough to be a forward and not aggressive enough to be a defense," she giggles.

"Then Rose is perfect for her position. Who was that kid?"

"Oh, you saw that. That's Jacob, her son. She doesn't talk much about him. Loves him dearly but apparently looks too much like his father."

A mom? Who would have thought it?

"Why does Cooper call her London?"

"That's where she comes from, but has lived here a long time. You are Dutch, right? How come you ended here?"

"I needed a change of scenery. The opportunity presented to work for an international marketing firm, and I took it."

"Is that it? Not running away from something or someone?"

Am I that transparent? I only smile and feel grateful when the hippy fairy brings us the food.

I busy myself eating and looking outside. Willow makes little-moaning noises as she eats her sandwich and I find it a bit embarrassing.

"Any weekend plans?" she cleans her mouth in a delicate way.

"Just rest and binge on Netflix."

"Sounds like a fab plan. I need to go to my mom's birthday and not looking forward to it. All the aunties come and harass me with questions about boyfriends."

"Do you have one?"

"Oh no, silly. I like women. That's the problem. They believe that if I get a boyfriend, I will suddenly stop being gay."

"Then good luck with the aunties," I laugh.

She gives me a hug when she leaves me before my apartment building, and I'm weirded out. Not about the fact that she's lesbian, but because I don't like physical affection in general.

As I throw my bag on the counter, my phone beeps with a message. Why doesn't everyone go fuck themselves? It's my weekend. I pick the phone and unlock it. The message is from a number I don't recognize, and it's only two words.
I'm sorry.

And this time I believe I know who it is. Someone I thought had left my life.