Page 83 of Catch and Cradle
My eyes start to burn and my throat gets thick, but I swipe the gathering tears away.
“I can’t do this, Becca. I can’t.”
I turn and bound down the porch steps as the first sob claws its way up out of me. She doesn’t call out or chase after me as I stumble blindly up the street. She doesn’t do anything at all.
19
Becca
“This is really what you want?”
Coach Jamal’s eyes look like they’re in danger of popping out of his head. He’s even taken his aviators off for the occasion. We’re sitting at one of the picnic tables on campus, both of us wearing jackets and gloves. Even with all the funding I won for the program, there’s still no office for the lacrosse coach, so we hold all our meetings outside or in coffee shops. We were heading for a Starbucks when we decided the day was nice enough to just sit down here.
Khadija thinks her dad is making faces at her and giggles. She’s all bundled up in her carrier on top of the table and has spent most of the meeting staring at the orange leaves drifting off the tree branches.
“It’s really what I want.” I nod, and his eyes only get wider.
I take a shaky breath of crisp, autumn air. I just did it. I just told Coach Jamal I won’t be on the UNS lacrosse team next year.
“Becca, I just want to be sure...this is about you, right? Not the game? It was one game, and it doesn’t reflect on your captaincy.”
I wince. Our home match this past weekend was a disaster, and it certainly did reflect on my captaincy. Everything I wanted to avoid has turned into a reality: the team is tense and dysfunctional, there are endless whispers about what’s going on, and we lost zero to four on our own turf. We’re not knocked out of the running yet, but it was a hit to our pride and morale. Even Coach is having a tough time getting the team to bounce back. All our practices this week have been filled with sloppy plays and dejected drills.
That’s not the worst part.
As far as I can tell, I’ve lost Hope. After that disaster of a Thanksgiving night, I tried to get in touch with her. I spent hours drafting gigantic speeches before I sent a text asking if we could talk, but she told me she needed time
So I’ve been waiting. It’s been almost two weeks, and I’ve been dragging myself through every practice where she avoids even looking at me, but nothing seems to be changing. Every day, it feels like another piece of her is gone from me, like the links between us are snapping off one by one.
“It’s about me,” I answer Coach. “I need to start thinking about more than lacrosse, as crazy as that sounds. It’s been my life, but maybe that’s the problem. I don’t really know what I want to do after I finish school. It’s only started occurring to me this year that I haven’t even thought about it much.”
He nods but stays silent. Coach always seems to know when I need a chance to just talk it out.
“I’ve had a good run,” I continue. “I’ve played for UNS for four years, and that’s an honor, but I need space for other things. I’ve talked to an academic advisor, and if I really work hard and switch some things around, there’s a chance I can graduate with a double major instead of just a minor in environmental science. I wouldn’t have time to keep playing next year, though, let alone keep being captain. I’ll need a part-time job too, since I’ll be giving up my scholarship.”
Coach starts to rock Khadija’s carrier. She laughs her little baby laugh and kicks her feet under her blanket.
“Becca,” he says, “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, so say the word and I’ll let it go, but if you need help with tuition—”
“I couldn’t,” I cut in, shaking my head even as my heart twinges at him offering. “I couldn’t accept that from you.”
“I’d be happy to talk to the department so everything is aboveboard, and you wouldn’t be on the team anymore, so there wouldn’t be any favoritism concerns,” he insists. “You’ve done so much for this team. You know I couldn’t have run it without you. I...okay, so maybe Coach is getting a little soft here, but I’ve always kind of thought of you as, you know, a daughter. It would mean a lot to make sure you can finish your degree. It would mean a lot to my wife too. Sometimes I think she’s more grateful for you than me, considering how many times you’ve saved me during all these baby scheduling issues.”
I try and fail to clear the lump in my throat. I have to look away and blink a few times before I can face him again.
This is what I mean when I tell people the team is a family to me. As much as I know I’m making the right decision, leaving still hurts like hell.
“Thank you, Coach,” I choke out. “That’s...You don’t even know what that means. I still can’t accept it, but thank you.”
I pause as he chuckles and shakes his head.
“I think if I work full time all summer,” I add, “and move into a smaller apartment, and work part-time next semester and the whole next school year, I should be able to scrape things together. It...it really helps to know you’re there, though.”
“Always. You know you don’t just stop being a Lobster, right?” The side of his mouth pulls up into a grin. He lifts one of his hands and makes a claw snapping motion. “Claws out! What’s the dance you weirdos are always doing?”
He jumps to his feet and starts doing a terribly uncoordinated version of the Lobster dance while I double over laughing and slapping my thighs.
“Oh my god,” I gasp when he sits back down. “Why didn’t I film that?”