Back To Earth

Boyd

May sixth. According to Professor Benton, that’s the day Sophie is supposed to get married to a douchebag, Derek Knoll. I’m not sure why he shared this information with me when I touched base with him yesterday, but it’s been sitting in my head like a ticking bomb. Exactly twenty-eight days from now, the woman I love will be married… to someone else.

It’s hard to put into words how much that hurts. When things ended so terribly with Maggie, I had a hundred other distractions to keep my mind busy and more important things to spend my emotional budget on. Now, all of my thoughts are consumed by Sophie.

“I can call Tessa in. She’s been asking for more hours,” Monica suggests.

I shake my head, realizing I just spent several minutes polishing the same spot on the back counter. “Thanks, Mon. Leaving now will just give me more time to think… and I don’t want to think.”

She shouldn’t even be here today. It’s her day off, but she stopped in to check on me. I want to appreciate that gesture, but her pitying eyes only make me feel more pathetic.

“Not up for discussion. Phoenix has tryouts for the summer league in ninety minutes. You’re coming with us.” She pulls her phone from her coat pocket and dials a number.

I tune out her discussion, minus when I hear her ask Tessa to cover my shift.

“Settled. She’ll be here in thirty.”

Her words are muffled as I stare into space. The entire world feels like it’s closing in around me. Every voice I hear sounds like Sophie. Every person who walks in the door with hair the same shade just about brings me to my knees… and it’s a very common shade, it turns out. My heart all but stopped two days ago when I saw a copper labradoodle running at the park. Its goofy way of bounding instead of a graceful run most dogs have was so similar to Wilson, I couldn’t bear it.

“Boyd?” Monica shouts, snapping her fingers.

I blink myself back into focus, shaking out the muffled sounds clouding my head. “Sorry.” My throat closes before I can choke out an explanation. Probably because I’m too embarrassed to confide in Monica and tell her how much I’m hurting. But my eyes aren’t so good at keeping secrets, because without permission, they start to leak.

“Oh, come here, you big softie.” Monica wraps her arm around me like a momma bear.

The gesture makes me feel like a child—a six-foot tall child with facial hair and a business degree.

I pull myself together after a few seconds, leaning out of Monica’s embrace. Why am I always so set on dwelling on heartbreak? I let Maggie’s dismissal haunt me for years. Sophie helped me get beyond that, and now I’m even worse off. There’s no way I have enough of my heart left to consider ever giving it to someone else.

“I love her, Mon. And it hurts.”

“Give it time. It’ll get easier.”

That sounds unlikely. It’s been nine days since I saw her last and it hurts more now than it did then. Now that I’ve come to terms with the fact she’s not going to come through this door, run into my arms, and tell me it was all a big misunderstanding. Reality is sobering, and I’d like to remain drunk on love.

Tessa walks in the door before I can reply. How long was I staring into space? It’s a good thing it’s Saturday and painfully slow. Another memory of Sophie’s visit with Ashlyn surfaces. The weather was much the same, and foot traffic was minimal. But I need to convince myself she’s not showing up anymore. Not even for a flat white.

“Everything okay?” Tessa asks, her eyes lit with concern.

“Yeah, all good,” Monica answers. “Boss man just isn’t feeling well. Thanks for coming.”

“No worries. Looks slow, so I can still get some homework done.” She pats her backpack and Monica talks to her for a few moments as I trail into my office. My obsessed brain pictures Sophie backed up against my desk, her blouse button undone, panting. I blink away the vision of her, rip off my apron, and grab my coat to exit as fast as possible. There’s too much of her in these walls. Monica is right; I need to get out.

I thank Tessa on my way out the door, Monica trailing behind me. We walk the ten minutes to her place to pick up Phoenix, who is anxiously waiting in his soccer kit. He looks so grown up. Like he’s ready to look at girls as more than targets in dodgeball. I don’t want to be the cynical old man who warns him away from women, but I never want him to feel like I do right now. He doesn’t need to be bogged down by my relationship woes, though. This is a big day for him.

“Ready, Captain?” I ask, clapping him on the back.

He hesitates to answer. “I didn’t know you were coming. Mom said you were working.”

Well, that’s a crushing blow to my ego. He looks upset that I’m here.

“Yeah, she called Tessa in so I could come. Do you not want me to?”

“No, no. Of course. I… was just… surprised.” He bends down to pick up his duffel bag, hoisting it onto his shoulder. “Ready.”

We walk to the rec centre hosting tryouts. There are hoards of kids lined up to register, which is a good thing, so they’ll have several full teams and make a more competitive season. Phoenix has aspirations to pursue soccer in the future, so playing the same group of a few kids won’t sharpen his skills much.

I squeeze his shoulder after Monica’s got him registered, then he ventures off toward the group of kids waiting to be assigned pinnies. Monica and I find a spot to watch in the indoor soccer field that has bleachers all the way around. We sit third row from the bottom, just left of the centre line on the far side. Kids start filing onto the field, wearing different coloured vests to distinguish their groups. They’ll run through different drills, then get divided up amongst the coaches based on jurisdiction and skill level.

Phoenix runs onto the field, which is easy to spot, because he’s about four inches taller than most kids his age. His sandy blond hair bounces as he jogs along the perimeter to warm up. We wave and shout at him as he goes past.

He waves back, but his eyes don’t stop searching the crowd. He continues his trail, and I notice him wave again when he gets to the corner nearest the entrance. My eyes search the people in that area and land on her.

Sophie. What is she doing here? I clutch Monica’s arm because I know if I don’t ground myself, I’ll float over there like my soul is being called home.

“What?”

“She–she’s here,” I stammer.

The panic in her voice is immediate. “Who? Maggie? Where?”

All I can do for twenty solid seconds is shake my head and stare. Finally, I offer some reassurance. “Sophie.”

“The little bugger. Phoenix must have invited her. They exchanged numbers when they made the new playlist for the café. It never crossed my mind he’d contact her.”

It doesn’t look like she’s seen me. If she has, she’s a lot better at hiding it than I am. Her eyes are focused on Phoenix, and she randomly claps and smiles. But even from here, I can tell she’s hiding pain in her eyes.

The entire tryout passes without me looking at the field once. My eyes were locked on her the whole time. It’s not until she stands to leave that I realize it’s over.

“I have to talk to her,” I declare to Monica, and leap into action, bounding down the bleachers. My heart picks up speed as my feet do, which could be because of the effort I’m putting into catching up to Sophie or the thought of seeing her.

I exit into the rec centre lobby, searching for the familiar head of brown hair. She’s disappeared. I look toward the large sliding glass doors at the main entrance, just in time to see her walking into the parking lot. My feet stall in place. My brain has finally caught up to what I’m doing, and can’t come up with anything to say if I catch her. Still, I force myself forward, jogging to the door. I just need to stop her from leaving, and I’ll figure the rest out later.

But as I make my exit from the building, I watch her SUV pull onto Queen Street. The hurt I was being suffocated by earlier today is nothing compared to watching her leave again.