Back in London after the Olympics, Jessie can't shake the guilt that sat heavy in the empty stomach. Every time she looked at Magda she felt the guilt that rose with each sorrowful glance. She never wanted to hurt her captain, one of her closest "friends" and yet she did.
She so desperately wanted to apologize but what was she going to say, "sorry your team sucked and mine didn't." Or "hey I'm so sorry I beat you all in the Olympics, if only I missed my Pk?" That just sounded rude. Hours and hours were spent staring mindlessly at the speckling on her ceiling as she pondered on a way to convey her true emotions on the whole fucked up situation.
So training became awkward, team bonding was laced with tension, and everything was just too much. No one knew how to interact with the youngster anymore. Sam tried as hard as she could but when met with nothing more than heavy eyes she stopped, then Nimah tried but Jessie wouldn't even look at her, so the job fell to Magda who couldn't let the young girl run her career into the ground. It was no secret that the Olympics screw up most things in the aftermath. For the first day after the final Magda was mad, furious even but with careful conversation the Dane lead her to peace.
"Hey Jessie..." freckled cheeks stared longingly at the ground. Her boots drag through the browning grass of the practice facility. "Pernille and I wanted to extend the offer of dinner to you. It's totally fine if you already have plans but we wanted to make sure that you are okay after the Olympics and all." Brown eyes strained against the urge to look at her captain but she knew she couldn't. She knew the guilt would flood her, the dull thud that knock her heart out of rhythm every time she saw the Swede.
"No thank you." She muttered desperately. So quiet and soft if they weren't alone on the pitch Magda would surely miss it.
"May I ask why you are turning down the invitation?" Magda was pushing it but she had to get Jessie out of her funk. Her footwork had gone missing, her shooting ability was down in the garbage and her soccer iq was nonexistent now.
"I can't." She chewed her bottom lip and her fingers picked at her cuticles.
"Umm..." Magda stumbled. She never expected Jessie to actually turn her down, sure she expected a little bit of protest but never a full on dismissal. If anything the rejection further ingrained how integral it was to have Jessie over for dinner. With a few steadying breaths, Magda regained her composure and continued on with her pursuit. "As your captain, it is a mandatory meeting."
"Why?" She questioned before wanting to take it back. Why couldn't the earth just swallow her Why did she feel the need to talk back to her captain? Before the last comment pushed past her lips she might've had a chance at getting out of the so-called team meeting, now all hope was to the wind.
Before her mind could spiral further Magda started speaking, her tone more direct. She wasn't asking this time, heavy pleaded demands quickly filling the space between them. The tension eating away all the air."Because the Olympics left you shaken as it did me after my first. But something happened. Something that is affecting your game and it has raised some concerns. As well as the fact that you don't look at me. At all. So Emma has asked for us to have to sit down. I figured inviting you to dinner would make it less awkward unless you want to stay after in the locker room and have me scold you for an hour until you eventually tell me why you are refusing to look me in the eyes, or talk. So I assume you are free for dinner?"
Jessie could only nod as she dug the toe of her boots into the dirt patch next to the concrete. "Head over about sixish." With a final nod, Magda left her to catch up with Pernille who was long since showered and dressed.
Jessie couldn't walk into the locker room, Magda would be in there and that would be awkward. If she jogged to catch up to Magda it would be weird since they still weren't technically speaking yet. The only non-awkward approach was to wait for everyone to leave before getting changed. But she had a dinner where her presence and her presence alone was expected so she didn't want to waste time on something so trivial as who was in the changing rooms. She went with the only obvious answer, Leave now and turn in the dirtied kit tomorrow or stay up tonight after dinner to wash it.
snagging the keys from the royal blue kit bag she unlocked the club-gifted car and drove back to her flat, nothing played through the stereo as she drove the planned route on autopilot, stopping at each sign, and flicking the blinker on and off at each turn.
Robotic: the one- the only word that truly described her. Thoughts ran in mindless circles around her brain, moving so fast it was as if there were no thoughts at all. Never being able to sit down and relax, while also never doing anything. It was tiring. Really, the idea of never being able to stop. With that thought came fear.
Winning a gold medal at the Olympics made her feel bulletproof- well should've made her feel bulletproof, yet she was left feeling like the shell casing was left on the ground as the munition traveled feet away to strike the target. Everyone else was living, truly living while she was just alive. All of her teammates were being productive, Sinc was off talking to Canadian leaders, Chapman was back joking with Daly and Gilles was off finishing her degree. So many people were able to move on; Why couldn't she?
pulling into her parking spot, locking the car twice just to hear the horn to know that she really locked it before ambling into her apartment. Dropping the blue bag at the door, toeing off the slides, stalking through the dark hallway. Her curtains hadn't opened since before Tokyo. There was never a reason after to open them. It was always cloudy, and most of the time it was raining as well. The thick coat of dust made itself known every time someone walked by them.
Her bathroom reeked of mildew as the towels pilled against the cupboard, every night it reminded her to do laundry, yet they sat still partially wet for months. She loved a clean home, it was her favorite thing. To walk in after camp and smell her house, to truly smell what her friends smelt when they walked in the door. But never having the energy to clean. There was never enough time to clean, really clean.
Not wasting any time she picked up the cleanest towel she could and turned the water to scalding. Brushing through the knotted curls as she waited for the steam to rise. Watching as each stroke pulled out a little more hair, adding pressure she watched the bristles pull tightly wound curls from her scalp.
The steam rose and the water burned as it crossed her chest. Standing under the water she watched as the fair skin colored pink under the heat, her neck twinging in short spurts of pain before the next drop hit, grabbing the shampoo bottle she placed more than enough on her fingers before running her fingers deep into the tendrils. Picking up her razor she propped her right leg onto the perch of the tub and started at her ankle all the way up to her knee in a net line, repeating each line until switching legs and doing the same. Rinsing the shampoo from her scalp quickly replaced it with conditioner and continued to shave her knees and then thighs. Then her armpits, knicking the soft flesh next to her breast. Never feeling pain just watching as the singular stream of blood mixed with the water as it ran a slow trail down her ribs along her hips and then to the floor.
She stared at the cut, with no emotion, no feeling just watching. The water started to run cold, waking her up to the time that had passed. Rinsing out the conditioner and moving to wash her face. Once done she stepped on the cold linoleum and plucked the towel from its spot on the closed toilet, digging through the pile of towels for a second almost dry towel. finding one that didn't smell too bad and wasn't quite wet to wrap her hair up.
Stalking through her closet she pulled numerous things off hangers and racks. Was this casual? Business casual? Professional? How was she supposed to dress? She couldn't text her now, So she went with her gut and grabbed jeans and a nice pullover. Something that could be dressed up or down if needed and would be comfortable enough to endure the conversation.
Checking her phone, she had 30 minutes before she had to leave, 15 if she didn't want to stress. With 15 minutes to go she walked back into the bathroom her socked feet picking up the lone water droplets as she picked up the brush. Hair filling the bristles so much so it was covering them. Not having the time to pick it out she ran her fingers through her hair, picking up the same towels and patting the hair dry. Applying lip gloss and a little blush. Checking herself over multiple times to make sure she wasn't too dressed up while also looking like she tried a little bit.
picking up the little black bag she brought everywhere if she was going out and packed it full of everything she might need. An extra protein bar, lip gloss, breath mints, every coin she's ever received, business cards, a wallet, multiple pens, a bottle opener, and her keys that hung clipped to the lining so she would never lose them. With one last time check she filled the stainless steel water bottle and an extra stick of gum to chew on even though she just brushed her teeth.
Driving through the streets, rechecking the address at every stop sign making sure she hadn't input it wrong. Pulling into the nice three-bedroom house. Parking on the side of the street not feeling comfortable enough to pull into the driveway. She didn't know them well enough to park next to them.
She locked it twice waiting for the alarm as she walked across the dirt-covered path, knocking twice on the door and waiting. Checking her phone to make sure it was really 6 and not too early. The phone read 5:59 and her nerves calmed for a millisecond as Magda opened the door. Clad in sweatpants and an Adidas shirt, white Nike socks tucked under the sweats. Pernille stuck her head from behind the wall waving with a soft smile as she moved around the kitchen. "Please come in." Magda stepped to the side allowing Jessie to toe off her shoes on the rug and followed Magda wordlessly through the bright, open house. "Would you like anything to drink? Water? Pop?"
"Water please?"
"Yeah, Go sit at the table, Dinner is almost ready." Jessie nodded like a futile child, her socked feet dragging against the tile. Her mother mentally scolding her to pick up her feet when she walked echoed through her head, yet she didn't make the correction. Rather reveling in the feeling of the cold tile under her feet. Standing a the dining room table, a new fear arose. Where was she supposed to sit? What if they had planned seating arrangements? What if Magda and Pernille sat at the heads of the table? She couldn't sit at the head it would make it weird? What if they sat on opposite sides of the table and she would just mess up the dynamic? Magda sensing the internal issue, "Jessie could you sit on the right side so Pernille can continue to monitor the food?"
"Will do," Jessie mumbled walking around the table and picking the chair closest to the corner.
Magda sat across from her and moved around the pile of plates and silverware. "How are you doing Jessie?"
"I'm good how about you?" Her eyes never left her hands. Her nails scratched her wrist, intrigued by the raised red lines.
"I'm well. Now, what's going on? It's just us here, and we know something is wrong Jessie. Can you please tell us what is wrong?"
Her eyes bounced around the room, from the clock To Pernille, to the signed photo of the two of them kissing at the World cup. Their house was cozy. Inviting even, when you stepped in you felt the love that surrounded the two. The love that the people inside the house encompassed. With enough decorations to know that someone lived in the house and not enough to suffocate. Enough holes in the walls from past pictures hung and scuffs on the island to show the numerous amounts of people who had hit their barstools against the counter while conversations were being held.
It reminded her of her mother's house. Scuffed floors and walls from where her dog slid in the early morning, handprints on every handle and knob, and dust lining the thermostat from years of no one touching it. "Nothings wrong. Just a little homesick." Murmuring the at part, eyes dipping lower hoping Magda wouldn't push and they would go back to useless small talk.
"Is that all Jessie?"
"Yes, Magda. It's just been hard with the pandemic and all. You know?" she tried dismissing it. Everyone had gotten a little down during the pandemic, it was hard on everyone. But everyone had rebounded; unlike her.
"Why haven't you even looked at me since the Olympics?"
"I-" After so many hours debating this topic in her head, thinking of every possible way to respond, she was still stuck at a loss. "I don't know why."
"I think you do?"
"Well, for us to win you had to lose. And I'm sorry and this might've been your last Olympics, and I don't know why you aren't mad at me. And I'm sorry and.."
"Jessie... Jessie, please take a breath. It's sports. I knew when I got my first cap that in order for me to win my friends would have to lose. And it sucked. I was bummed about not winning the Olympics. But it's sports and you guys just outplayed us. I'm over it. I never held that against you."
"Why do you have to lose for me to win?" As soon as it pushed past her lips she knew how stupid it sounded. "Sorry, that was stupid. Don't answer that."
"Well we will always play you guys again and as far as I know I'm not retiring for a few more years so Who knows I might be able to best you all next cycle."
The awkward chuckle filled the silence. "Now what can we do to help you?"
"I don't know What you can do. It's just a funk. I'll be okay. It's stupid really."
"Sometimes you need help to get out of a funk. Can we do anything to help you?"
"I'll be alright. It just needs time" Jessie dismisses it as Pernille pulls the chicken from the oven and starts plating. With the added distraction Jessie jumps from her chair to help Pernille move everything to the table. When her hands were busy she didn't have to think. Too preoccupied with not messing up whatever she was doing allowed her brain to shut off just for a few seconds every day.
With the big issue out of the way, or at least partially they ate dinner in semi-silence. Making easy small talk and what everyone thought Chelsea would do this year. The couple avoided topics like going home for the holidays and upcoming friendlies. So they chatted away about the weather and how everyone was itching for the sun to peak out.
The sun had long set when Jessie pushes away her chairs and brings the empty plate to the sink. "Thank you all for having. But I really must be going. I have a few things I need to catch up on before tomorrow." The couple nodded and walked Jessie to her car. wishing her safe travels home and to text one of them when she was back at her flat. With one last wave goodbye, she jammed the key into the ignition and typed in her address.
arrive back at the cold flat she toed off her shoes and moped to her bedroom making a stop for the case of Budweiser on the way. plugging her phone in she pulled out her laptop, flipping through shows before settling on some random movie she didn't know the name of. Working her way through thee pack as the numbers on her alarm clock flipped.
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Are we feeling this book?