| |
Christina Mallet did not sleep very well that night, if at all. Her mind was racing, thoughts overloaded with each of the various occurrences that had transpired in consecutive fashion. There was no escaping any of them either. Once she left one specific area of thought, another waited to immediately take its place.
Eventually, Christina gave up on sleep completely, getting out of bed for good, hoping to expend enough energy that she would soon collapse with exhaustion.
To start, Christina went for a long run around the neighborhood. That cool night air felt nice against her hot, sweaty skin, while the stars from above lit up her path.
While running, she reflected on her spat with Matthew on the Garden Bridge, reminded of the pain and anger felt during that conversation. Some of this was aimed at him, because of a sudden personality change, while most landed squarely on herself, for getting caught up in a moment of vulnerability and not seeing the kid for who he really was.
These realizations kept Christina’s heart pumping, and allowed her to maintain extra adrenaline throughout this run. Thus, she was able to experience a great deal more stamina and expand her normal course. It was like those negative emotions provided some extra fuel, even long past the usual stopping point.
Back at home, submerged in an invigorating bubble bath (hoping to compensate for the one that had ended prematurely after Melissa’s phone call), Christina replayed that altercation with Frank, recalling the intense fear coursing through her body, and how concerned she was of just how bad it would get.
A brief period existed when Christina sincerely believed that she was not going to make it out alive. Frank was that angry, and capable of that much violence. This reminder caused her constant shudders. Even while immersed in the scalding hot water, Christina still experienced legitimate chills when thinking about those terrifying few minutes.
She also pondered her choice not to call the police afterwards and file an official report. All logic pointed in this direction, but it was something Christina flat out did not want to do. That would only stretch out the event even longer, making it even more difficult to forget entirely.
Forget the police, Christina decided stubbornly. I’d rather just put this whole thing out of my mind altogether.
If I can.
Finally, during a snack and show session (potato chips and One Tree Hill; what a combination!), Christina contemplated how everything had ended. This in turn led to an even wider array of emotions.
Initially, she didn’t know what to think. At that precise moment, Christina had been so numb with terror that it became genuinely hard to believe what was transpiring. In fact, her first thought was that this must be a dream, as it seemed to be the only logical explanation.
It didn’t make sense why Matthew would be there. He was probably the absolute last person she would have expected to come to her aid, particularly after their previous interaction.
What was Matthew doing there? And why did he come back?
Again, Christina had yet to uncover these mysteries, but surely intended to do so soon. She needed closure, plus some vital information. The sooner, the better.
Several minutes after rising out of bed and changing clothes, Christina was behind the wheel of her car. A golden sun was starting to peek its way into the awakening sky, beckoning another morning.
Her destination was New Jersey University, the site of last night’s adventure, and a place where Premier Soccer Academy would be conducting more sessions. Likewise, this constituted the place where she could find Matthew Fitzgerald.
For the moment, that was indeed Christina’s only goal.
* * * * * * * * * * *
MATTHEW also didn’t get a single second of sleep that night. In fact, he had an even worse evening than Christina. This insomnia was for a much different reason though. In truth, staying awake was for his own well-being.
The fight with Frank had left Matthew in much discomforting pain, particularly around the face and head. That elbow to the skull created a massive welt just below his left eye. He could just feel this area swelling up every minute, and was now afraid to look at it in the mirror.
Moreover, Matthew had developed a gigantic headache. Sadly, the throbbing in his temple was more intense than he has ever experienced before, which made him seriously concerned about a concussion.
If that were true, then sleeping would be unadvised. Honestly, Matthew should have immediately gone to the emergency room, but elected not to, for several reasons.
First of all, any ER visit would require notification of the patient’s emergency contact. In this case, that would be the instructors of Premier Soccer Academy. At that point, it was possible that Matthew would be temporarily banished from participation. The instructors could deem it unsafe for him to play soccer, at least until all injuries have been fully healed.
Of course, there was also the likelihood that the doctors and nurses would come to this same conclusion on their own; that Matthew was unfit to perform any extraneous activities, like playing soccer. If that happened, then it wouldn’t matter what he, or his instructors, thought. Their hands would be totally tied, and opinions overruled, by the qualified views of experienced medical professionals.
But another potential concern existed too, one that had absolutely nothing to do with his physical condition.
If Matthew reported his injuries to the coaching staff (or they had found out separately, like from a hospital worker), those coaches would ultimately ask the obvious question: How did that happen?
Well, then Matthew would have to share the story; how he walked over to the Garden Bridge to cool off after that tussle with Tyrone, unintentionally meeting up with Christina, which eventually led to a verbal altercation between the two.
After leaving the scene, Matthew eventually came back, only to see Christina in serious danger. At which point, he elected to help, receiving a face full of bony elbow for his troubles.
In most cases, this would be viewed gallantly, Matthew considered heroic for rescuing Christina from a rather perilous situation. However, the instructors may not see it that way. Instead, they might have a different perspective.
Those coaches may remember that scuffle on the soccer field earlier that day, resulting in Matthew being disqualified from the ongoing scrimmage, as well as from the next session (i.e. “red listed”). Additionally, they may also remember him storming off, still fiery with rage.
Then, the next time they see Matthew, one side of his face was completely mashed in, as if stung by an entire hive of bees. None of that would look too good for him.
Moreover, the PSA instructors don’t really know Christina. Sure, she may have been seen around campus occasionally, but they were certainly unaware of anything that had occurred between her and Matthew over those past few days.
Therefore, these instructors may not totally believe Matthew’s particular version of events. Rather, they may presume that his jacked-up features were nothing more than the result of a follow-up confrontation from someone looking to fight.
That would make Matthew look even worse, not to mention paint him as a misbehaving deviant, one who could not keep any emotions in check and was totally incapable of controlling his temper.
This fair (but inaccurate) assumption could get Matthew expelled from the camp altogether. All of these scenarios were feasible, and absolutely none of them played to his favor.
So the way he saw it, a positive outcome (the instructors believing his story, understanding what had been done and allowing him to keep playing) was least probable. Therefore, no chances were being taken. Not going to the hospital, Matthew would just stay home, opting to recover the old-fashioned way; only without the benefit of sleep.
As for tomorrow morning’s PSA session? Well, he would definitely be there. Head injury or not, the Phenom still wanted to play soccer.
Matthew just hoped that he wouldn’t pass out from fatigue in the middle of it. On the other hand, that was way better than actually losing consciousness altogether, so staying awake remained absolutely essential.
No sleep for Matthew then. Not until tomorrow night, anyway.
* * * * * * * * * * *
PULLING INTO NEW JERSEY University, Christina parked in her usual spot, then followed the same walking path as normal, beginning at that adjacent sidewalk. Except she didn’t continue along the common route this time.
In most cases, she trails to the right, towards Stevens Hall and various academic buildings. Yet on this particular morning, Christina veered to the left.
There were no classes on Christina’s schedule, so she shouldn’t really be on campus today. It was very unlike her to come here for anything other than classwork, or something related to education.
So this definitely qualified as a very unusual circumstance. That shows how important it was.
As she walked, the Garden Bridge came into view on Christina’s left. Immediately, those images from the previous day came rushing over her. Still not a moment has gone by where Christina didn’t think about what had happened on that previously innocuous footbridge; yet seeing the structure up close again brought everything back even more vividly.
Closing both eyes, Christina took a few deep breaths while passing the scene of yesterday’s theatrics. It was a humid morning, with strong wind starting to develop. Rain was possible at any moment, which would put a slight hindrance on her plans. In that instance, she would have to turn around and walk the other way, back towards Stevens Hall.
Also, if the PSA camp went indoors, that would create a substantial delay as well. While observers were welcome to view the outside sessions, all spectators were banned from the gymnasium during that time.
As a result, Christina would have to sit around (most likely in the cafeteria again) and wait for that session to conclude. This would lead to even more anxiety and nerves.
Basically, she really prayed it didn’t come to that. Christina certainly preferred to handle this as quickly as possible.
There was another feasible issue too: Matthew may not even be at the practice. After taking quite a beating from Frank Valencio yesterday, perhaps he was in more physical torment than previously indicated.
If that were true, then Matthew may still be in his room, icing down and trying to sleep off the anguish. But she wasn’t allowed in the dorm building, so that would make talking to him over there extremely difficult, practically impossible. Christina truly hoped that this didn’t happen, either.
After making that final turn along the walking path, Christina could see the sports fields up ahead. Most of them were empty, but those that were occupied had the unmistakable look of a soccer camp; small groups of players participating in drills, coaches standing around and interjecting every so often to educate, various recognizable sounds (whistles blowing, someone shouting, a ball being struck powerfully by someone’s foot, etc.), and much related equipment scattered throughout the freshly cut grass.
Thankfully, Christina had gotten here before weather intensified, so business had not yet moved under the comfortable shelter of a roof. So even if the session does have to relocate now, she would already be there, meaning that Matthew could be easily intercepted along the way.
Assuming he was present, of course.
Each individual field was surrounded by several sets of steel bleachers. Yet only a handful actually remained accessible to the viewing public. Christina found one (consisting of the shortest remaining walk), ascended to its very top, and sat down.
Taking a quick look around, Christina ultimately spotted who she came to see. Matthew was indeed on the field, training and competing as if nothing had happened less than 24 hours ago.
This was yet another hurdle avoided. Matthew did not choose to sit out, nor was he asked to do so. Christina sat back and watched the rest of this session, both eyes never leaving him. And her mind never went anywhere else, either.
* * * * * * * * * * *
MATTHEW WAS USED TO playing soccer with various injuries and ailments. He has become quite accustomed to overcoming a multitude of bumps and bruises during competition. But this was the absolute worst of it. Frankly, this was as bad as it got.
In the past, Matthew had always relied on adrenaline, perseverance, determination and sheer toughness in order to keep going despite being in pain or discomfort. The gifted athlete had a remarkable ability to block out those physical issues, and focus on the specific game or practice. All in all, this not-so-little gift has helped him immensely.
Obviously, that pain or discomfort didn’t magically disappear, nor did he suddenly feel wonderful merely by stepping onto a soccer field. However, all of it usually became significantly minimized, to the point of totally manageability.
This earned Matthew much respect among teammates, coaches and opponents alike. Most people within the sports realm usually appreciate that sort of tenacity.
Unfortunately, none of that was working here. This was something entirely different.
Matthew had been in physical altercations before. Yesterday certainly wasn’t his first, whether on the soccer field or off (not counting nearly getting into a fight, like that prior incident with Tyrone).
But nothing had ever made him feel this awful, and those effects were impossible to ignore. His head throbbed, he felt on the verge of vomiting, and the vision was blurry thanks to one eye being practically swollen shut.
Much of this had not gone unnoticed, either. A few fellow PSA members acknowledged Matthew’s struggles, and asked if he was okay (Jasmine Ruiz, in particular, showed grave concern), not to mention a harsh interrogation conducted by the instructors.
Matthew fabricated a story about tripping on the sidewalk and landing face first, then assured them that this resulting damage actually looked much worse than it felt). Other than an offhanded suggestion to visit a doctor though, the whole thing was never brought up again after that.
Nevertheless, Matthew still wanted to play through, understanding that it was best not to divulge the real story to his instructors, nor visit a hospital. Instead, he would just have to suck it up, a task becoming increasingly more difficult by the second.
The first part of that morning’s session was filled with practice drills and cardio exercises. While the former lacked any excitement to keep Matthew fully engaged, the latter required much more energy than he currently possessed.
To be frank (probably a poor choice of words, considering the official cause of this agony), it was amazing that he had lasted this long. For the first time in his life, Matthew wanted a soccer-related activity to end quickly.
All players were lined up horizontally, about twenty-five yards from a large regulation soccer goal set up on one side of the field.
Each had a ball at his or her feet, with several others gathered in a small pile behind them. Meanwhile, the goal itself had small rings hanging in various spots, and there was a partition of mannequins standing between each player and the actual net.
It was time for some target practice.
The object was simple. Each player would be given a specified “target” for which to aim; namely, kick the ball through—or at least somewhere close to—the designated ring.
However, that partition was set up in their direct path, about ten yards back (thus representing an actual “wall” during real competition). Each particular player would be given several moments to formulate a strategy, then a whistle would blow.
At this point, it was game on. That player would make his or her attempt, hoping to come as near this “target” as possible. That was the basic idea.
Essentially, this simulated a “free kick” scenario, one that Matthew has played out (with tremendous success) in reality numerous times. On his own team, he was usually the player chosen for such a situation, so no experience problem existed here at all.
But a patience one did, especially with his pounding headache and jacked-up face. The last thing Matthew wanted to do right now was stand around and wait, while watching others perform a task at which he already truly excelled.
This would be challenging for him at any moment. Today though, it proved particularly cumbersome. There was no choice in the matter, though. If Matthew wanted to keep playing, then he needed to stick it out, regardless of the physical (and psychological) burden.
Matthew was positioned towards one end of the horizontal line, flanked between Grace Axelburg and Bianca Roberts (all the way on the other side was Jasmine, who kept looking in his direction for any signs of worsening), almost parallel to a corner of the eighteen-yard box. A truly complicated angle, to say the least.
This was what Matthew preferred, though. If actually given a choice, this very spot would have been his own selection. He enjoyed a good challenge, and truly savored the opportunity.
Now if only Matthew could stand still for a few seconds without feeling like he was going to pass out entirely.
Waiting his turn, Matthew idly surveyed the surrounding area. There were not a lot of students around campus (or at least very few in the immediate area), and the nearby highway indicated some heavy traffic.
Closing both eyes, he tried to focus on the audible noises; birds chirping, horns honking (what with the traffic and all), the rippling of a nearby stream, and rustling of tree branches in the heavy morning wind.
This qualified as his attempt at meditation, a way to get under control. But sadly, it wasn’t working. The pain was just way too much, and there appeared to be no escape from it.
Matthew opened those eyes. And just like that, he wasn’t thinking about the pain anymore.
Initially, Matthew wasn’t sure what he was seeing. The blurry vision and extreme upper body misery left the battered young man wondering if his mind was playing tricks.
Staring harder, Matthew rubbed both eyes a few times in order to achieve more clarity. A part of him thought that eventually the image would disappear entirely, leaving it as only a distorted picture in his mind.
But soon, he had no doubt. Before long, Matthew knew that these fuzzy eyes weren’t deceiving him, and this was indeed very real.
Gazing up into the bleachers, Matthew saw a very familiar face, one that he didn’t expect to see ever again, especially in this setting.
Of course, he had a similar notion yesterday as well (and look how that turned out), only to be proven wrong. Yet lo and behold, the same thing was happening here.
Seated alone in the bleachers, all the way at the very top, was none other than Christina Mallet.
Matthew noticed something else too. She wasn’t just observing the practice, but appeared to be watching him.
Their eyes met quickly, then Matthew darted his head away, which caused another intense rush of pure agony. After shaking that off, he turned back again, and Christina was still peering right at him.
What did she want?
That was the final thought on this matter, before Luisa Ramos screeched his name. It was time for Matthew’s official target practice attempt.
Directing attention back to the task at hand, he lined up, took a brief peek at the assigned ring hanging twenty five yards away, and then stepped towards the ball.
BANG! A direct hit.
* * * * * * * * * * *
AS SOON AS THE LATEST session of soccer concluded, Christina descended those bleachers and scurried towards the field exit.
Understanding that the players would have to gather up their belongings on the sidelines before leaving, Christina had somewhat of a head start, and was thus very likely to get there first. But she still didn’t want to take any chances.
After all, there was way too much at stake here.
Quickly reaching her destination, Christina found a spot to stand under a large eastern red cedar tree. She wanted to stand close enough to the walking path so that Matthew could be easily intercepted on his way past her.
At the same time though, she didn’t want to be too close and attract attention. More specifically, Christina really didn’t want to be spotted by either Keith Novello (the goalkeeper session had ended simultaneously) or Tyrone Smith. Therefore, this shaded position under the canopy of leaves worked just fine.
Before long, the members of Premier Soccer Academy started to appear. Christina watched many players—and even a few coaches—walk by, none of them even giving her a cursory glance.
To Christina’s delight, she did not see Tyrone or Keith. Yet much to her chagrin, Matthew hadn’t been spotted yet, either.
Unable to clearly see that far ahead, Christina had no idea if he was even close. Basically, she had no choice but to wait until this line of people ended fully.
Just about to give up altogether, Christina finally spotted him. Right when she was ready to walk away and accept defeat, Matthew came into view.
At first, Christina flat out froze, totally caught off guard by his appearance. Plus there were overwhelming nerves bubbling to the surface. But then she realized that he was about to breeze right on through, and didn’t even seem to notice (or care about) Christina’s presence.
So a move had to be made.
Now.
Walking out onto the path, Christina stopped a few feet in front of Matthew, who slowed his pace slightly, but didn’t cease walking altogether. It then occurred to her that he may be acting intentionally nonchalant and aloof.
Christina knew that Matthew had seen her in the bleachers, so he had to be aware that she was here.
Was Matthew simply playing hard to get? Waiting for her to initiate? Christina didn’t have time to think about that too much though, because he was getting away.
“Hey,” she said softly, hoping that the gentle tone would make Matthew stop and listen.
Failing to even turn around, Matthew responded. “Hi.”
He stomped right past her, their right shoulders lightly grazing against each other. Yet Matthew kept on going.
“Are you okay?” Christina asked,
“I’m fine.”
“You sure?”
Now Matthew stopped, still not actually turning to face her, but instead merely looking down at his feet. “This is not as bad as it looks,” he lied, repeating that same story given to the instructors.
“Okay.”
Christina didn’t add anything to this, so Matthew assumed that she was finished. He started walking along again, headed towards the dorm buildings and away from her.
Out of sheer desperation, Christina blurted out, “I never had the chance to properly thank you.”
Once again, Matthew halted. Except this time, he did finally twist around and look in Christina’s direction.
Christina went on, “That was wonderful of you to rescue me like that.”
“Don’t mention it.”
In a sullen voice, Christina conceded, “I don’t want to even think about what would have happened if you weren’t there.”
“I’m glad you’re okay.”
They stared at one another for a moment, tremendous electricity passing between them, which both individuals felt, and was hardly new. However, neither one wanted to comment on it.
At least not yet.
The conversation had stalled. Christina didn’t want this, as it could lead to Matthew escaping for good. She inquired, “Any chance we can be friends?”
Matthew’s answer was sharp and immediate. “No.”
“You don’t want to be friends with me?”
“No.”
Christina breathed heavily. “Right.”
She took a peek around. All of the other players had come and gone. Apparently, Tyrone and Keith already walked by too, without saying anything or acknowledging her in any way.
It comforted her to realize how content she was with that. However, Christina was definitely not satisfied with what Matthew had just uttered.
In fact, as much as Christina hated to admit it, that response truly broke her heart.
There was nothing left to say now, so Christina did the only thing she could; turn around quickly, and begin the painful walk back to her car.
She had made it about two steps in that direction, before Matthew jumped in with a question of his own.
“Are you available tomorrow night?”
This inquiry absolutely startled Christina, who wasn’t even sure that she had heard him correctly. She turned back to Matthew, fixing him with a hard stare.
“Am I what?”
“Available,” Matthew repeated. “Like, for dinner?”
Christina’s brow furrowed in puzzlement, seeking clarification. “I thought you just said that you didn’t want to be friends with me?”
“I don’t.” Matthew then asked again, “Are you available tomorrow night?”
This time, the question ended with a smile from Matthew; and now Christina figured it all out. She knew precisely what he meant, and the thought made her really happy.
But then she remembered something...
“Oh darn, I’m not.” Christina explained, “I already made plans with Melissa.”
She anticipated Matthew leaving in a huff of exasperation. Christina genuinely expected him to give up on the whole thing, and forget that he had ever asked.
Fortunately, that didn’t happen. Instead, Mathew presented a counter-offer.
“No problem. How about this weekend?”
Christina thought quickly. Other than a work shift on Saturday afternoon, she was totally free (two weeks in a row!).
With a beaming grin, Christina replied, “Yes, I’m available. Count me in.”
“Excellent,” Matthew said with a nod. “I’ll see you then.” Giving Christina a quick wink, he then strolled away, whistling into the wind with enthusiastic glee. She was left standing there, all alone in the walking path just outside the soccer fields, with an absolutely radiant smile on her face.
At long last, Christina Mallet and Matthew Fitzgerald were going on a date.