Page 86 of Playing for Possession
Lana got a quick touch on the ball and passed it to me. I rolled it gently under my foot before I passed it back.
Skylar beamed. “You’ve got this, Joanie. I know you have.”
I didn’t have it. I was so far from having it, it made me ache. Lana weaved in and out of a line of cones. It was a simple drill, but these were the actions I dreaded. Pivots and sudden changes in direction put pressure on my knee. I had to get stuck in and try not to think about it. Claire had let me sit out the 5v5 games, but I had to get off this damn sideline and join in.
Ramirez’s words drifted to mind.You will still be afraid.
Claire blew her whistle to end the training session. Relief washed through me. I was only half concentrating on the wrap-up talk. Claire dismissed the team and I jogged to the sideline. A black-clad figure caught my attention. Dad stood watching me, keeping his distance. I’d been doing my best to avoid him. We hadn’t really spoken since I’d got upset him with at his fake funeral.
I jogged to him. “Hi, Dad.”
He spoke in a calm, considered tone. “Hi. Can we talk?”
I was in no mood to talk to my dad. We’d left things on a weird note. But this awkward feeling between us wouldn’t do. “OK.”
Dad pulled up outside a dilapidated row of terraced houses.
“Where are we? I thought we were going back to yours.”
He craned his neck to look at a narrow, crooked house with soot-stained walls. A smashed TV sat on the front step alongside a filthy, sodden mattress. Beer cans and rubbish scattered the rough lawn.
“This is the house I grew up in.”
“This place?” I tried to keep the surprise from my voice. I knew Dad had grown up with humble origins, but I hadn’t imagined a house so small. He’d had to share this with five brothers and sisters.
A smile lifted his lips. “I sat in that bedroom up there and wrote most of the songs on my first album when I was fourteen.”
I glanced at my watch. I shouldn’t have expected any different. Dad didn’t want to talk to me about what had gone on between us. He wanted to talk about himself, as usual.
His voice had a wistful edge. “It was tough, growing up. I always dreamed of getting out of here. Your Grandma Dora didn’t like music. She wanted me to get a proper job. I didn’t feel... appreciated.”
Tomorrow was my first match of the season. I should have been preparing for that, not going on a trip down memory lane with Dad. Was he even going to apologize for what had happened?
“That’s great, Dad.” My voice sounded as lifeless as I felt.
He glanced in the rearview mirror, licked his thumb, and rubbed a smudge of mascara on his cheek. “All I ever wanted was to be famous. Maybe it’s because I wanted people to see me and appreciate me.”
“We all appreciate you, Dad.”
“I messed up, Joanie. I know it. I keep getting it wrong. I didn’t give you enough attention when you were growing up, and I suppose now you think I’ve swung the other way. I’m overprotective. I overstepped with Kieran. The truth is, I regret how much time I spent on tour.”
He drew an unsteady breath. “I know what matters. You matter, darling. My family. I owe you an apology.” He peered up at the house. “One of the reasons I kept going for so long was that I wanted my kids to have all the things I never had. By the time I realized that what you really needed was a father, it was too late. I’d already missed everything.”
My throat closed up. Yes. He’d missed out on a lot of things. We both had. Loud music and drunken arguing from a party somewhere echoed down the street.
Dad peered up at his house, thoughtfully. “It was tough growing up here. We didn’t have much. All my clothes were hand-me-downs. The house was always cold because we could either eat or put the radiators on. It makes you feel a kind of shame. That maybe it’s your fault you’ve got so little.”
“That’s not true. I’m so sorry that things were so hard for you.”
He gave a rueful smile. “Now, I have everything, but that boy who had nothing still lives inside of me. Music saved my life. I had all of this... feeling inside, and it was the only way I could get it out. Kids from this street don’t usually grow up to be rich and famous. Talent gets you so far in this life, but you need luck too, and there isn’t much luck round these parts. When you’ve had to fight so hard, sometimes you don’t feel worthy.”
I glanced up at the small bedroom window, thinking about Dad as a teenager writing his songs. Good that he’d had a way to express himself. I couldn’t help but think of Kieran, too. He’d had a difficult time growing up. Maybe he felt like Dad. Like therewas still a boy inside who didn’t have the right to everything he’d achieved. It wasn’t true. He had more right than anyone, because he’d worked so hard despite the challenges. I pushed the thoughts aside. I missed Kieran so much. If I thought about him too much, I’d start crying again.
Football had been my music. It had been the way I coped and processed things. That’s why I’d been so lost and overwhelmed this year without it. I’d been going through the biggest challenge of my life with the injury, and I’d lost the means to deal with it.
“Football was like music to me,” I said.
Dad glanced at me. “Oh?”
