I sit in my car and stare out the window for a long time after I leave Hawk’s apartment. Thankfully I do not have a parking ticket. I laugh at the absurdity of thinking of that at a time like this. I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me. I crossed a line and had sex with a colleague. Is he a colleague? My subordinate? I laugh again at the thought of Hawk being anyone’s subordinate. Either way, he should be off limits.
Impulsive, fun shit is for people without baggage. I have to be “on” all the time, to keep my job and to keep my kid and to stay safe. I can’t afford this sort of diversion. What did I just jeopardize for an afternoon in Hawk’s arms? God, maybe it was worth it…
I drag my hands down my cheeks as I think about the risk to my job, let alone the risk to the fragile shell of a heart that’s somehow still beating inside my chest. That was hands down the most intense sexual experience of my life. Hawk is such an intuitive lover. He can read my body so well. And I just left him in there! I walked away from him like he’s nothing.
I groan, thinking of all that I know about his history, and how I probably played into his insecurities by walking away. He told me to find someone else to fuck next time I feel horny. As if there could ever be anyone else after that.
He certainly doesn’t need me messing with his already-fragile head space, especially when he’s dealing with all his family stuff. I hate that I sent him such mixed signals today. It’s not fair to him and I owe him an apology. Of course, I’d need to talk to him to offer that, and I know that talking to him will lead me to picturing him naked. Gah!
I check my phone in an attempt to distract myself and I almost faint in relief when I see an email from the Phe-Moms asking if anyone is up for a quick game of pickup this afternoon. Many women on the team are teachers or professors—at least eight people chime in that they’re available.
Eager for the distraction, I add my name to the “in” list and hurry home to grab my cleats. When I get to the field, my teammate Dina shouts and waves from the turf. “Lucy! We need to establish a presence. It’s every group for themselves with no permits today!”
The park is crowded, with people playing pickle ball and running hurdles on the track. There’s even a group of folks clad in all black, dancing through a Tai Chi sequence under the trees behind the far goal. In the middle of this bustle, I spy groups of athletes eyeballing the open field, hoping to snag it for their own activity. The Phe-Moms are often fighting to claim space, even when we do have the permit. It’s a pretty strong metaphor for most of my adult life.
At least once a week, someone tries to boot us or just infiltrate our game. Dina gestures to a group of frisbee players looking to use the turf, too, so I hurry over to her and lay out some cones. We trade some long passes, successfully claiming a slice of field until more of the Phe-Moms arrive and I lose myself in the energy and sounds of a pickup game in a busy urban park. Surely I should be able to compartmentalize my life like we did for this field? We’ve got multiple, distinct groups co-existing here and everything seems to be flowing pretty smoothly.
I try to shake off what happened earlier. I made one slip up and gave in to my lust. Just once. Maybe if I play hard enough, I can somehow erase the feeling of Hawk’s hands on my skin. I realize my thoughts are scattered and I’m not making any sense. This is definitely reflected in my play.
At one point, I charge after the ball, growling as Patty swerves in front of me and manages to steal it away, kicking it down field toward Soma, who scores. Frustrated, I shout, “Shit!” I stomp my foot, angry that my lack of focus cost my side a goal.
“Hey,” Patty says, signaling for a water break. “What’s up, Lucy? It’s not like you to get heated.” She’s right, of course. Part of the vibe of the Phe-Moms is that we’re all here for fun, to challenge each other in a positive way.
I lean my head on Patty’s shoulder. “I’m sorry,” I tell her. “I should just view it as a growth opportunity when you get the ball away from me.”
“That’s the spirit,” Patty says, giving my arm a squeeze.
I try harder to focus on the game. I’ve got about one hour left before I have to pick up Wyatt. One hour of time to do what I always do with the Phe-Moms: shut out the stress of the world and just focus on soccer.
But today, it doesn’t work. I keep seeing Hawk’s face as he worshipped me with his body, the way his eyes conveyed a tenderness that shook me to my core. Because if I respond, if I open myself up to receiving that kind of emotion…
I choke down a sob as I think about how easily I lost myself in Nick. How quickly things moved from him sweeping me off my feet to him ruining my life. I can’t do that to myself again. I can’t do that to Wyatt.
I have so much in my life to feel thankful for right now. I’ve got these women around me, probably wishing I were paying better attention to our soccer game. I’ve got a kick-ass job I need to keep. I need to keep my nose to the grind stone.
Hawk Moyer will find someone else without baggage, though the thought of him with another woman curdles my stomach. I steel myself to block a kick and it bounces off my shoulder just as Soma shouts that we’re done for the day.
I smile at Patty as I reach for my water bottle. “Sorry I was a mess today.”
“No worries. That’s the beauty of a team sport, right? There are always other people on the field in support.” I close my eyes, wishing I could confide in her, not sure what’s holding me back.
Patty is quiet, like she’s waiting for me to say more. Suddenly I feel ashamed of how I behaved earlier, of how I let it bleed into the game this afternoon. I don’t say anything, shifting my weight from foot to foot as I pull off my cleats. Eventually, Patty asks, “You off to grab my buddy Wyatt?” I nod and she grins. “Tell him She-Ra says hey.”
My heart warms as I imagine delivering the message. My life is full right now, thanks to Patty and the Phe-Moms. I can get past this infatuation with Hawk. I owe him the space to focus on his game, on connecting with his brothers.
I, likewise, need to focus on soccer and on work. I need to box up whatever feelings I’m having toward Hawk and forget this afternoon ever happened. “This is the way,” I mutter, quoting Wyatt’s new favorite show.