“Aww, come on, ref! Where’s the face mask call?”
The guys beside me stare at my outburst. Or, well…me. They’re staring at me.
I shake off the discomfort their wide gazes bring, reminding myself they have no idea who I am. I’m not wearing my favorite jersey, no wedding band, and I hardly look like the woman they might have recognized once upon a time.
I’m not here to be social, anyway. I’m here to watch some football.
The replay clearly shows Orlando’s defensive end trying to wrest the helmet from the quarterback’s head. Any more torque and Sacramento’s star player might have had his neck broken by number ninety-seven.
It’s a good thing I’m not there. I might give security the slip and wait for that dude after the game. With brass knuckles.
On the very next snap, the o-line folds and ninety-seven charges again.
This time, the quarterback gives him the clothesline.
“Bullshit,” I yell when they flag number ten for a personal foul.
The guy to my left laughs at my commentary. “You one of those Falls Fanatics?”
On my right, Alyssa pries my knife from my fingers. “Violence isn’t the answer, hon.”
Ignoring my friend because I’ll never admit she’s right, I respond to the random guy who somehow thinks I’d rather have a conversation with him than watch the game. “Am I wearing a number ten jersey?”
“No.” His beady eyes travel down my torso, then back up. “You’re certainly not.”
I have no doubt from the husky tone of his voice and the way his gaze lingers a little too long on my breasts he’s imagining me wearing nothing.
Ha. Joke’s on him. He’d likely be repulsed by what’s underneath my shirt and bra.
“I happen to love football.” I redirect his attention to my face with my sharp statement. “Don’t try to tell me ninety-seven didn’t have that coming. He’s been out for blood the entire game, with barely even a slap on the wrist from the officials. I can name at least ten different penalties he hasn’t been called on in the first three quarters.”
The guy nods, seemingly impressed. “You really know your shit, huh?”
“Sweetheart, I know things about football that would make your eyeballs bleed.”
Instead of shutting him up, my admission only seems to excite him further. “Yeah? And how’s that, gorgeous? Jersey chasing is hard work, is that the way of it?”
“All right, that’s enough.” Alyssa physically pulls me up, switching seats with me so I’m sandwiched between her and Jeremy. “Don’t you give me that look, Eva. We’re not bailing you out if you get into another fight. You should just be happy we still let you watch games in public.”
“The last guy didn’t press charges, so you didn’t actually have to bail me out. And, I didn’t ask for fucking babysitters,” I mumble.
Jeremy wraps his arm around my shoulders, giving me a little shake. “Aww, don’t be that way. You know we only worry because we love you.”
“Or Mike’s paying you off.”
Alyssa scoffs. “You act like having so many people who care about you is such a hardship. Besides, maybe it’s Alex paying us off.”
I shoot her a scathing glare, but she simply sips her Long Island Iced Tea and smirks. It’s far more likely Alex has paid off his teammates to fuck with Rob every chance they get during this first matchup between their teams. I’m not even in attendance, but I can practically feel the tension oozing from the TV.
“We got lucky Alex and Rob are playing each other today.” Jeremy’s eyes are glued to the screen above us, completely oblivious to my feelings on the matter. “I hate having to choose who we watch on any given Sunday.”
“And Mike’s game isn’t until later, which makes it even easier,” Alyssa adds. “How mad is he that you didn’t take the train up to Albany?”
I fiddle with my necklace for luck, rubbing the cool metal between my fingers until Rob’s pass lands safely in the hands of his mediocre wide receiver before answering. “Kick off isn’t until eight. I have work in the morning. He can’t be mad.”
That’s a much better explanation than admitting every conversation we have breaks down into a fight. He’s such a hypocrite, constantly needling me to let go of the past when he isn’t taking his own advice. He still hasn’t been on a date, to my knowledge.
“I would’ve given you tomorrow off if you wanted to go.” Alyssa rolls her eyes.
“Yeah. Remember how well that turned out the first game of the season?”
“How was I supposed to know my boss would show up that morning, unannounced?”
Jeremy laughs. “You don’t have a boss, babe. You have an aunt, who wants you to take over her art gallery, so she can retire and travel the world. I don’t know why you two are still freaking out about that. So you didn’t have a secretary sitting at the desk out front that morning. Who cares? It’s an art studio. It’s not like you run a law firm.”
Alyssa and I face him in unison.
He coughs, his cheeks turning red from our twin death glares. “My bad. It was a big deal. No more Mondays off for Evie.”
That old argument settled, Alyssa turns to me with a softer expression. “Speaking of time off, are you ready to fess up to the real reason you’re not at that game?” She gestures to the TV where Rob is walking off the field, his head hung like he’s already given up. “Bullshit excuses of growing apart aside,” she lowers her voice. “It’s obvious you still love him.”
“I never said I didn’t.”
“Then why are you in New York instead of California?”
A sigh sneaks out of my chest, even as I tell myself to stay cool. It’s getting harder and harder to maintain an air of indifference. After all these months apart from Rob, shouldn’t it be getting easier? “Because I need to be here.”
“You know I’m going to eventually get it out of you.” She gives me a side-eye. “Since there’s obviously more to that story, are you sure you’re okay with our plans?”
“For the millionth time, yes.” At least my audible sigh is justified this time. “It’s your wedding; you can do whatever you want, and that includes inviting whomever you want.”
“Thank God,” Jeremy breathes. “In that case, I need a favor.”
Oh, this already smells like trouble. That suspicion is confirmed when he latches onto my arm and leans in like he’s about to deliver highly classified intelligence.
“Rob isn’t returning my calls. I get he’s busy during the season, but I’ve left him at least ten voicemails. I need to know if he can swing being a groomsman. If he doesn’t have time during the off-season, then that’s cool. I just need a yes or a no.”
Jeremy’s admission concerns me. It’s not like Rob to blow off one of his oldest friends. As busy as he was during college football seasons, he still made time for the people who were important to him. Jeremy was always on that short list. “Okay. What does that have to do with me?”
Jeremy huffs out a breath, my question clearly frustrating him. “Call him and get an answer for me.”
I barely have my mouth open to issue an excuse before Alyssa bumps into me from the other side. “We already asked Mike and Alex to try and get in touch with him. They both refused.”
Jeremy straightens in his seat, his expression darkening. “If you don’t want to tell anyone why you and Rob broke up, that’s fine. It happened months ago and it’s none of our business. But, I’m getting really pissed at the constant run around about what went down between three of my best friends. Even though we went to separate colleges, they never shut me out like this. I don’t know if having all three of them in the wedding party will be a disaster because no one will tell me what’s going on. Alex and Mike promised to be there, but I don’t know if Rob will even show up.”
Memories of the last time Rob, Mike, and Alex were in the same room skitter through my mind. It’s no wonder a confession isn’t forthcoming from anyone. How is it possible to explain a rift no one saw coming?
Though they would undoubtedly argue with me, I can’t help but feel like I’m responsible for it all.
Then again, we’d have to be on speaking terms to disagree. “I emailed Rob once at the beginning of the season. He never responded. I don’t think I’ll have any better luck than you. Sorry, Jeremy.”
“Figures,” he grumbles before bringing his beer to his lips to guzzle from the glass.
We resume watching the game in silence as Orlando takes the field for another offensive drive. Alex has been on fire with every play, a stark contrast to Rob’s floundering performance.
As cheers and heckles float on the thick air around me, envy creeps up my spine.
That old saying, it’s better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all?
What a load of crap.
It’s been eight long months since I broke things off with Rob, but I still feel the loss as tangibly as a severed limb. Living on opposite sides of the country and having no more sightings of him across campus like I used to at State has been a much more difficult adjustment than I’d predicted.
I’m probably not making things easier on myself by following his debut season in the NFL like a total stalker. I just wish there was some switch in my brain I could flip to shut off the ghostly hold he still has over me. But then again, I never wanted to completely let him go. I only wanted to do what was best for him. Keeping tabs on him from a distance is a safe way to make sure he’s doing well.
It must be nice to watch these games with no more vested interest than cheering on a fantasy football player or rooting for a rookie on your favorite team.
No matter how much time goes by, I watch three particular players with a boatload of emotional baggage none of these other spectators can even imagine.
“You really haven’t spoken to Rob since your grandfather’s funeral?” Alyssa pries.
“I really haven’t.” Lying by omission is second nature these days. What good would it do anyone to admit the circumstances surrounding our parting words?
“I told you asking Rob to be a groomsman was a bad idea.” Alyssa reaches around me to smack Jeremy on the shoulder.
“I can’t not ask him,” Jeremy volleys back. “We’ve been friends since kindergarten. Or at least, we used to be.”
“You’ve done your due diligence. If he isn’t returning your calls, then there’s nothing more you can do. Pick someone else.”
“I’m not going to pick someone else until I hear it directly from Rob’s mouth that he isn’t interested.”
I sigh and tune out their bickering as the final seconds tick away on another losing game for Rob’s team. This brings the Rushers’ record to 1-4. Next week is an away game—in Albany.
No matter the date is circled on my calendar in red, somehow it still managed to sneak up on me.
I have a choice to make.
I tune back into a new debate between the lovebirds about whether to take a honeymoon in Paris or Bermuda. It never ceases to amaze me how quickly they go from arguing to planning the rest of their lives together. As if they already accept they won’t agree on every little thing, they move past obstacles as quickly as Rob and I made new ones.
Sliding off the stool, I slap a ten down on the bar top to cover my measly drink.
“Aww, you’re leaving?” Alyssa whines.
“I don’t really want to be a third wheel for your honeymoon planning.” And I have a prior standing appointment.
“What if we need a tie-breaker?”
I have to laugh at Jeremy’s dead-serious expression. “You’re getting married. You don’t need a tie-breaker; you need to learn to compromise.”
Alyssa raises her eyebrows. “Maybe you should take your own advice. You’re constantly fighting with Mike, Alex isn’t speaking to you since you blew him off for the umpteenth time when he offered to fly you to Orlando for a game, and don’t get me started on what’s going on between you and Rob.”
Those neatly worded truths stab me so hard, it further lodges the knife I plunged into my own chest.
“I never thought I’d see the day the four amigos broke up.” Jeremy shakes his head.
“The what, now?” Curiosity keeps me here, even as my mind is already racing out the door.
“The four amigos,” Jeremy repeats. “That’s what everyone called you, Rob, Mike, and Alex in high school.”
Alyssa wrinkles her nose. “I never heard that.”
Memories of Alex’s foursomes in college dance through my mind. “No one ever thought…anything more was going on, did they?”
Jeremy shrugs. “I don’t know. I didn’t exactly ask. I was too busy being bitter over you replacing me. I guess it’s come full circle.”
Alyssa reclaims my abandoned stool next to Jeremy and rubs his shoulder. “Aww, honey. You still have me.”
He leans over, placing a gentle kiss on her lips. “And I’m going to keep you. You’ve always been more important to me than those schmucks, anyway.”
That’s my cue to leave. “See ya later, kids. Keep the PDA to a minimum until you get home.”
While I’m pushing my way through the busy bar, my phone rings. Right on time.
As soon as I clear the door, I swipe at the screen and lift it to my ear. “Injury report?”
“I’m hauling ass to the airport to get to a hockey game for another client. The least you could do is greet me politely and maybe offer up some small talk.”
I roll my eyes even though he can’t see me. “I’m well aware of how valuable your time is, Shawn. I’m not going to take up more than necessary with meaningless platitudes.”
“Fair enough,” he chuckles. “When I left they were running him through concussion protocol after all the hits from ninety-seven. Confirmed broken finger on his left hand, and the usual joint pain, bumps, and bruises.”
“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath. It could’ve been worse, though. At least nothing’s broken on his throwing hand. “Mental status?”
“Pissed off at the world. The usual these days. So, I’m sure he’s not concussed at all.”
As if that’s supposed to make me feel better. Jeremy’s frustration over Rob blowing off his calls has anxiety gnawing at my gut.
“Is his father causing problems?” Maybe that’s what’s making Rob act so weird.
“Negative. You haven’t approved those photos yet,” Shawn reminds me. “I need to let the magazine know by tomorrow, so get on it.”
“You don’t need my approval for that stuff.”
“According to my boss, I do. You know his rules. If you don’t sign off on it, it doesn’t get printed. Oh, I almost forgot. He also wants to know why you haven’t seen a doctor since you moved.”
I’ve been in New York City for four months since moving out of the apartment I shared with Mike at State. It feels more like an eternity. Long enough to find mediocre health care, but not so long that I’ve put down roots.
My breath swirls around my face in white puffs of steam from the early October cold snap as I make my way through the constantly crowded sidewalks. It’s amazing how alone I feel in a metropolis, teeming with millions of people. “He’s never going to speak to me again, is he?”
I didn’t want this. Never imagined our friendship wouldn’t survive the end of our relationship.
“I don’t get paid enough to be a marriage counselor, too,” Shawn grumbles. He clears his throat, then speaks more clearly, his tone softer. “Look, I don’t know what happened between you two. I don’t ask, and he hasn’t said anything. What I do know is this: he won’t let me market him as the most eligible bachelor in the NFL, even though no one knows he’s married and you two certainly don’t act like a couple. He always has a ticket and a family pass waiting, in case you decide to show up to a game, whether home or away. He refuses to let a single article or picture of himself be printed without you okaying it first. And you are the sole beneficiary of his estate. That doesn’t sound, to me, like someone who’s never going to speak to you again.”
“And yet you’re the one asking me why I haven’t seen a doctor. How would he even know that, by the way?” I cross the street with the light, a rat running a maze as I’m jostled along with the other pedestrians who don’t give a damn I’m in the middle of a conversation.
I can practically feel Shawn’s frustration through the phone. “You’re also on his top-notch insurance. He knows if you’re getting medical attention or not. He gets the statement of benefits.”
No, he doesn’t. Because I never use his insurance. If Planned Parenthood doesn’t cover my basic treatment option, I don’t get it. Birth control helped ease my monthly symptoms at first, but the effects seem to be rapidly wearing off. I can’t afford the care I obviously need for my chronic condition. The warnings of the specialist I saw in college constantly weigh on my mind.
“Are you coming to the game next week?”
Shawn’s question stops me in my tracks. A few muttered curses are thrown my way as the sea of bodies parts around me.
“I don’t know.”
“And I don’t know why you two are doing this to yourselves.” Shawn sighs. “What the fuck happened to the woman I used to know, who defended that quarterback through thick and thin, no matter what?”
She defended him until the bitter end.
After several heartbeats of silence between us, Shawn clears his throat. “Listen, I gotta go. I’m at the airport and need to get through security. Just look over the damn photo shoot and send me the approval by tomorrow morning, all right?”
“Yeah, sure.”
He hangs up without any further orders.
I force my feet to move again as the memory of the last conversation I ever had in person with Rob replays in my mind.
“Why?” he chokes out, still staring at the door Mike walked out of minutes ago.
“Why, what?” I’m exhausted, in pain, and emotionally wrung out. Playing twenty questions is, well…out of the question.
Rob turns his bright blue gaze to me. “Do you hate me?”
I shake my head, but no words materialize. Nothing I might say matters anymore.
“I loved you. How could you? You begged me to sleep with her, with anyone. You lied to my face.”
Maybe it’s his past tense of the word “love” that snaps me out of it. Maybe it’s his accusation. “You always knew when I was lying before. If a part of you didn’t want to be with someone else, you wouldn’t have believed me so easily.”
His shoulders slump. The towel and ice I brought him lay untouched on the carpet as he continues to bleed. “I guess that’s what hurts so much. I should have known you were lying; I shouldn’t have bought into your story. But, I did. I wanted to prove you were wrong and I was right. It doesn’t matter now, though, does it? You lied and I cheated. There’s no coming back from this.”
No. There isn’t. He doesn’t need me to tell him what he already knows.
Still, something is bothering me, and I don’t want to end this with any questions hanging over my head. “Minutes ago you told me everything was going to be okay. That we were going to be okay. What made you change your mind?”
My gaze follows him as he rises from the floor, staggering a bit on his feet. The urge to help him nearly overwhelms me, but I stay on the ground. It’s not my place to lift him up when all I do is bring him down.
“Alex was right,” he says quietly. “You deserve better. I’m not it. I’m tired of pretending to be something I’m not, too. I always knew I was never good enough. I proved myself right in more ways than one.”
He walks out the door without a look back.
I plant my feet on the sidewalk and stare up at the starless city sky, wishing for a miracle, a chance to redo everything that went wrong, as people continue to pass around me without a second glance. They don’t recognize me. Even if they saw my naked body in a magazine a year ago, I look nothing like that woman now.
I thought sloughing off any remaining vestiges of my old life would help. Would somehow make moving forward easier to handle. While I have the freedom of anonymity I’ve wanted for so long, an invisible weight continues to drag me down.
I can’t shake it no matter how hard I try.
I’ll never be good enough.