14. Vincent #2
With my travel mug in hand and my tablet under my arm, I push myself into the stadium, walking down the long hallways until I reach my office.
I grit my teeth as I go through the motions of getting my desk set up.
Preparing for my morning meetings and going through the motions of the day.
I feel like a ghost within my own self. Barely responding to prompts and responses through my meetings, doing just enough to get by.
Feeling tense and on tender hooks, it's not long before we approach the full team meeting.
So far, I haven't had to see him because I've been dealing with my own line and the forwards have been off in a different section.
But now Coach Graham is pulling everyone together.
For the first huddle of training camp, to catch up with everyone and see how they've off-season has gone, and to tell them what the plans are for the new season.
We meet out on the grass. Some players sitting on the grass, some players throwing a ball, standing up at the back.
I catch Tate's eyes. He's one of the ones towards the rear, constantly moving and fidgeting as if he can't stand to sit still.
It's a feature I've noticed in him whenever he's anxious whenever he's got something on his mind.
Which makes me think that maybe he's wanting this whole situation to just be over too.
He's just wanting this conversation to be had, so everyone knows what's going on and we can all move forward with it.
I avert my eyes from Tate as much as possible, but I find my eyes returning to him. Catching him out of the corner of my eye, seeing him fidget and flounder about. A stone sinks inside my gut, knowing that this situation isn't going to end—until I'm the one who does it.
Coach Graham's speech comes to an end, and I couldn't even tell you what half of what he said. I wasn't really listening, too focussed on Tate and his emotions to really register what was going on with the team around us.
“Does anyone have anything they'd like to say?” Coach Graham says to the team.
“I do,” I say, clearing my throat.
All eyes are on me, and I feel the sweat break out at the back of my neck.
I don't know how to start this conversation and fuck knows I don't want to have it, but it needs to be done.
I'm the one who got us into this mess. I'm the one who can get us out of it.
Lord knows that Tate went along with this whole thing to save my arse in the first place.
The least I can do is take the pressure off him at the end here.
“Yeah, I just want to say something about um,” I clear my throat again, catching Tate's eyes. I see the eyes of the team flick backwards and forwards, tracking us both, trying to figure out what's going on.
“Uh, yeah, we know about you guys,” says Jonesy, our team captain from the floor. “We already know about everything that happened at the end of last season, remember?” He continues, as if he's trying to take the pressure off me, as if he thinks that that was all I was going to say.
“Yeah, I know it all kind of came about in a roundabout way with everyone finding out before we were ready for them to,” I say, shifting on my feet. “But I just wanted to update you guys that at this time we've decided to not continue our relationship.”
“What?” I hear from several people. I think that Tate’s voice is one of them, but I keep my eyes away from him, knowing that if I want to have this conversation, if I want to get these words out, I can't do it while I'm making or meeting his eyes.
“After the last few months together, Tate and I have decided that we're better off as friends,” I say.
There's just dead silence around us, I realise that I was hoping Tate would say something. That he would interrupt me and say, no actually, I'm in love with you.
But he doesn't.
He doesn't say anything. To the point where I almost look up at him, but I am barely holding myself together right now. I'm so over this conversation that I just need to get out of here now.
“Yeah, so that's all I had to say about that.
I just wanted to let you guys know so that you don't have to be.
You know, expecting anything or to bring it up.
Um, but yeah, we're just gonna be mates again.
And there's no animosity here. It's a neutral decision, um, so we can all just return to business as usual,” I say with a firm nod.
Then, without any preamble, I turn around and stalk away.
Unable to handle the scrutiny of the team any longer and just needing some privacy to pull myself together while I feel my heart tearing apart inside me.
Taking a deep breath, I push myself through the closest door and realise I've walked into the locker room.
I want to sob. I want to cry. I want freedom and space to just reign it all in, but I'm not gonna get any of that here.
I don't even have a private office sharing it with two of the other coaches down the hall.
I think about walking into one of the toilet cubicles to just get some space because at least then I'd have privacy for a little bit. But before I can, the door slams open.
“What the fuck was that?” Echoes through the room, Tate's angry voice bouncing around me.
I turn around. Pinching the bridge of my nose, trying to just hold back the tears for a bit longer so Tate doesn’t see me break.
“What do you mean, what was that?” I ask, grinding my teeth. “That was what you wanted, isn't it?” I state. Realising that I've set myself up for failure again. “All I want right now, Tate, is some space. So that I can just calm down and get through things, okay?”
“What do you mean?” he asks, and I want to throttle him for just the lack of empathy and understanding that is going on right now.
“That's probably one of the hardest things I've ever had to do, Tate,” I say, making eye contact with him at last. He's piercing blue eyes blazing with something as he looks at me.
“But I did that because that's what you wanted. okay? I just need to have some time alone so that I can just come to terms with everything. Can’t you just give me that?”
“What I wanted?” Tate scoffs. “When the fuck did I tell you that's what I wanted?”