Page 26 of Ancient History

Mr. Brightside: Nope.

I sat up straight, awaiting his honest-filled response. What was it about the faux anonymity of screen names that made it easier to share?

SoccerStar: I haven’t dated anyone since you.

SoccerStar: How about you?

Mr. Brightside: No one worth mentioning.

Mr. Brightside: It’s hard out there. [shrug emoji]

SoccerStar: It shouldn’t be for someone like you.

Heat seeped into my cheeks, but that could’ve been the wine. No, it wasn’t the wine. This conversation needed to take a sharp turn before I bared my soul.

Mr. Brightside: Why did you leave Nashville?

SoccerStar: I was cut from the team.

Mr. Brightside: Because of your knee?

SoccerStar: I tore my ACL during practice. Most ACL graft operations are successful. Mine was for the most part. I can walk on it and do some light jogging. But it wasn’t one hundred percent, and only people with fully functioning legs can play professional soccer.

Mr. Brightside: Can’t they make an exception and let you use your hands?

SoccerStar: Sadly, no.

SoccerStar: I’m not good with making sharp turns, like when I need to chase after someone in a corridor. :)

Mr. Brightside: Shit. My bad.

I sunk deeper into my couch, a flash of anger at myself as I recalled the way he called out my name in the hall. I could feel the stifled pain behind it.

Mr. Brightside: I’m really sorry, Hutch.

SoccerStar: It’s all good.

SoccerStar: After I got cut from the team, I tried finding a job, but when the only professional experience you have is kicking a soccer ball, it doesn’t make for an enticing resume. I got a cashier job at a big box store, but then some Troubadour fans posted pictures of me online, and I became a cautionary tale. People thought it was drugs.

Mr. Brightside: Why didn’t you tell them the truth?

SoccerStar: I don’t know.

SoccerStar: I was embarrassed. I really thought I’d made it. And I held out hope that my knee would get better. I went to physical therapy religiously, wracked up some nice medical debt.

Mr. Brightside: Is it any better?

SoccerStar: For the most part, but I’ll never be able to play like I used to.

SoccerStar: My dad had an injury at work a few months ago. I came home to take care of him and decided that there was nothing keeping me in Nashville. That city was just a constant reminder of failure. And for the life of me, I could not get into country music. Cowboy hats don’t fit my head well.

Mr. Brightside: You didn’t fail. You were a professional soccer player. How many people can say that?

Mr. Brightside: What is failure anyway? I’ve been teaching for four years. I’ve taught lots of students. The only kids who fail my class are the ones who never try. You tried. You gave soccer your all for years. You made it. You lived your dreams. How many people can say that? 10% less knee mobility doesn’t take away from that.

SoccerStar: :)

Mr. Brightside: What does that mean?

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