After Hawk storms out of my office, I feel like I want to punch someone. But of course that’s not an option. So much for my plan to compartmentalize. Where’s Wyatt’s Mandolorian when I need him to bring me a helmet I can hide behind?
I said some shitty things to Hawk, but I have to keep him distant. I cannot let something like yesterday happen again. Christ, what if Nick’s parents were to find out I slept with someone from work? I can only imagine the motions they’d file in family court about my loose morals.
I recall my vow to become a person who does things, rather than waits around while shit happens. I stare at the sheet of counselors in my desk drawer, but I still can’t imagine making that kind of commitment. I recall some of the services at the women’s center, that they have support groups for women who have fled domestic violence.
When I first left, I decided those groups weren’t for me because Nick had never physically harmed me or Wyatt. The court-issued no contact order and pending child endangerment charges remind me otherwise, and I pull up the website for the group. I see that they have a meeting next week with free childcare provided. I grit my teeth, RSVP as a yes and then storm down the hall to the supply closet.
Inventory seems like the perfect task for this afternoon, methodical work that can distract me from everything that happened today. It’s been on my list of places to explore but I have been scared to go in there in case the previous coach peed in there, too. Or worse.
My fears are in vain, however. I open the door to find heaps of new-in-box equipment I can use to torture the Forge for hours. I actually clap my hands when I find a box full of resistance parachutes, momentarily forgetting the fight I just had with a man I’m trying not to care about.
A few of the guys come upon me in the hall as I line up all of the new gadgets I found and I hear them groaning when I hold up agility ladders to detangle. “Ha,” I say, eyes bright. “Tomorrow is going to be amazing.”
“What if a few of us just make this disappear on you, coach?” Reggie acts like he’s going to drop a box of resistance bands into the trash.
Coach Todd chuckles as he makes his way down the hall toward his office. “I think Coach Lucy would just use her expense account to order some new shit. Ain’t that right, Lucy?” He snaps his gum and grins.
Apparently I have an expense account. I stand up from the treasure trove and grin. “I don’t need equipment to torture you with,” I tell them. “But I’m sure gonna make use of what we’ve got here.” I spend another hour making note of everything in the closet before retreating to my office to adjust my plans for tomorrow’s fitness sessions. I have to figure out the right approach to inquire after that expense account Coach Todd mentioned.
I’m very aware of my position as temporary seat filler in this role. I don’t want to come across as someone who spends frivolously, but I also don’t want the management to think I don’t properly utilize resources.
I scour my work email for the word “budget” but come up empty. I keep thinking of Kioko’s comment when I first met him, about how the team was gathering for alcoholic drinks in season. I suppose the staff is aware that the players imbibe occasionally, but I’d really like to get a nutritionist in here to refine a plan for the athletes. It’s barely October. We can still make a difference by the time playoffs begin in earnest.
Chewing my pen, I dial up to the management office, hoping to catch an admin. “Nina speaking. How may I direct your call?”
“Oh, great. Nina, this is Lucy Nelson from downstairs. Could I bother you for some help?”
“You bet,” she quips. And she sounds cheerful enough, so I go ahead and ask her both how much is in my expense account and how I access it to do things like hire vendors to help with the team. The number she spits back at me is truly staggering and I hang up the phone shaking my head in disbelief. I often forget how much money there is in professional sports.
I immediately call one of the sports nutritionists I used to work with years ago at Pittsburgh University and she refers me to someone who’s able to consult right away. I squeal after I hang up, knowing that tomorrow will not only be a day full of fitness fun, but will also begin a total dietary overhaul for half the guys.
Tomorrow will bring entirely new opportunity to shine in my job. I growl at the memory of Hawk suggesting I’ll never get past Nick enough to trust anyone. Just because I don’t want to dive into something more serious with my subordinate at work doesn’t mean I’m permanently damaged by my psycho ex.
I told Hawk I wanted no strings. He’s the one who pushed for more, pursued me. I just want to focus on keeping my job and keeping my son safe. I had to go and complicate everything and initiate something physical. It feels like a sacrilege to contain what Hawk and I shared to “something physical.” But I can’t very well sit around and pontificate about how we shared a spiritual experience.
I’ve turned my life around in so many ways, and today is just the next opportunity to prove it to the staff here. I deserve this job permanently and I know that I’m going to take the team to the next level.
The Forge crush Philadelphia on Friday night and I feel a spring in my step about it. The guys looked great and Coach Todd gives me a hug when he see them fooling around chugging water after the game. “They’re not even reaching for the hard stuff, Lucy.” He shoots his famous finger guns at me and I laugh, hugging myself.
On a rare weekend without a soccer match, I take Wyatt to a pumpkin patch along with Tawnya and her boys, the five of us lounging on a hay ride eating apples as if we don’t have a care in the world.
That feeling slips away early Monday when Hawk spends the entire morning glaring at me. He’s dismissive in the weight room, gruff in the afternoon stretching session and flat-out ignores me on Tuesday. As I rush to pick up Wyatt after practice, I decide it’s probably for the best.
This is what I asked of him, to leave me alone. Keep things professional at work. Wyatt and I eat sandwiches in the car as I hurry from his daycare to the women’s center for the support group. Of course, he gets jelly all over the front of his shirt and I’m not sure why, but the sight of it sends me right over the edge.
As I pull into the parking spot, I stare at his shirt and his sticky face, and I just start sobbing. I don’t even know why. Work is going great. Erika thinks my case is going great. I’m doing what needs to be done. I’m even outside a fucking support group where I’m probably the least abused person, yet here I stand sobbing.
Wyatt looks up at me from his car seat and starts crying, too. “I’m sorry, Mommy,” he wails. I climb into the back seat and unbuckle him, pulling him into my lap. I sit there rocking him, both of us sticky with peanut butter and jelly, and I cry as I watch the other women and their children file into the building. “Great,” I mutter. Now I’m also going to be late for the damn meeting.
I take a deep breath and fish around for some wipes, cleaning us up as best I can, and I walk inside, preparing to make excuses for our appearance and our lateness. But as soon as I open the door, we are greeted by smiling, excited staff members. As they take Wyatt’s information and walk him to the play room, I find their kindness to also be overwhelming, and I start crying again.
Eventually, someone guides me into a seat and hands me a box of tissues, which I sit and clutch as the group gets going. A few women share highlights of their week—familiar themes like making it to daycare drop off on time and managing to get to the grocery store so they don’t have to rely on takeout. I actually whoop along with the crowd when one of the women smiles and informs the room that she showered every single day since she was last here. Maybe I’m not so out of place here, after all.
The next morning, I’m determined to accept the atmosphere at work, which is that Hawk grows increasingly distant while the other players and staff seem more and more at ease with me. I remind myself that Hawk is feeling hurt and vulnerable about his personal life on top of my rejection. This will all sort itself out and hopefully I’ll still be working here when he’s ready to be friendly again.
I wait for Coach Todd’s signal that the locker room is all clear—I’d asked him to just text me or something but he insists on poking his head into the hall every morning to shout “dicks are covered!”
I walk into the room smiling bright. “Who’s ready for the Lucy Gauntlet?” I ask, rubbing my palms together. They eye me skeptically, especially Hawk, who seems broodier than ever. Good. I’ll give him something to brood about. I gesture for them to follow me onto the field, and I break them up into four groups. “We’re going to do intervals. I’ve got battling ropes, resistance parachutes, agility ladders, and plain old sprints for you all to run today.”
More groans. I cackle. “You think Hartford is sitting around eating greasy fries? I watched their game tape, fellas. We’ve got to be agile and ready to change directions. Hence…” I spread an arm toward my creations. I count them off by fours and set them through 90 second work periods with just 20 second of rest. We go for 10 rounds before our goalie starts puking. Coach Todd raises an eyebrow at me so I whistle for them to take a break.
“But don’t go anywhere,” I shout to them. “Phase two of the gauntlet is on her way out here right now.” They collapse on the grass inside the penalty box as Piper the nutritionist emerges from the entry gate, right on time. I let them rest for a few minutes while I greet her with a high five.
“Hey,” she says, looking around. “This is amazing.”
“I know! I can’t wait to hear how they’re doing with the nutrition stuff.”
She wags her eyebrows at me as Coach Todd makes his way over. “Todd,” I say, “Meet Piper Conklin. She’s the one who drew up the nutrition plans I sent around.”
He beams. “Terrific to hear, Lucy. We need all the help you can get us, Ms. Conklin.”
“Piper, please,” she grins and shakes his hand. “I’m ready to strip these men of all their bad food habits.”
I let her get her papers organized as I call the guys in to stretch. “All right,” I tell them. “We’ve got another round on the gauntlet, but while you’re recovering and stretching your hammies, I need to introduce you to the next secret weapon we’ve got for you.”
I pause in my pacing when I feel Hawk’s gaze burning into me. He and most of the guys have stripped their shirts by now. Of course, they’re all fit and firm and glistening with sweat. But only Hawk catches my eye as he bends over, the muscles of his back flexing while he reaches for his toes. I remind myself my interest right now is purely chemical. He brought me orgasms, he looks amazing, and my synapses are just firing accordingly.
He’s also angry and in a messed up head space about his family situation. I have no time or space to lend him my spare thoughts. I stand by while Piper talks the team through the general basics of the nutrition plan, asking them about the timing of their meals, how they’re doing with the new recommendations. “I’ve got binders for each of you in your lockers,” she says. “We’ll start with some general guidelines this first week until I can meet with you individually to refine the plan.” She grins and slaps me on the back. “Between me and Lucy, we’re going to shed every ounce of lethargy off of you. By playoffs, you’re going to be peaking, in top form, feeling like a million bucks.”
“Yeah, but only some of us are earning that much,” Reggie jokes, shoving Hawk in the shoulder. It should be a good thing, the guys teasing him. The team chuckles but Hawk doesn’t smile. He just continues to glare at me, and I still feel the burn of his anger at my rejection as I blow the whistle and send them through another round of torture.