3. Alice
Alice
Ivividly remember the day I met Ryder.
Both of us had transferred to a new school, entering sixth grade.
It was the first day of school, and our first block was advisory.
Advisory consisted of twelve students, alphabetically lumped together, and we were told that these were the students with whom we’d be creating a supportive environment outside of academics.
The teacher called roll to place us in our seats, and as my last name is Monarch and his is Monroe, we were seated next to each other.
At twelve years old, Ryder was the tallest kid I’d ever seen.
My mom once said that as he hit puberty, he reminded her of a puppy: lanky, big hands and feet, and still learning how to use his body.
His medium-brown hair was floppy on his face, and he had a face full of acne and braces.
He looked like every other preteen boy, yet not at the same time.
He looked like someone I couldn’t wait to be friends with.
Of course I did what I always used to do when I was younger.
I talked . . . a lot. I’d never had a friend who was a boy, but there was something about him, and I just knew he’d be mine.
He was going to become the best friend that I didn’t have.
And he did. Until seven years later, when suddenly he wasn’t.
“You know, I got here as fast as I could after you raised the bat signal, but I didn’t think it was going to be like this,” Kelli says as she takes a seat across from me at our favorite Greek restaurant.
Kelli and I were cheerleaders together in college.
We met at practice over the summer and then were delighted when she turned out to be my roommate in the athlete’s dorm.
We’ve lived together ever since. Outside of Ryder, she’s my longest friend, and in many ways my voice of reason.
We spent every moment together, and that first summer following our freshman year, she decided to come home with me.
It only took a couple of weeks for her to fall in love with Tampa.
Now we cheer here professionally together, we still live together, and she’s my biggest supporter of the Mighty Monarchs.
“Oh, just you wait. If we’d had four different bat signals, I would have shined them all,” I tell her, shoving another piece of bread into my mouth. I’m certain I look like a crazed, starved squirrel with how my cheeks are puffed out, but yours would be too if you were me.
The bat signal started as a joke in college.
We found the exact image that the Gotham City Police Department used to shine into the sky to summon Batman as a call for help, and we adopted it as just that.
If one of us needed help in any way, the signal would be texted over, and we’d drop whatever we were doing to save the other.
Our serious, but not 911 serious, signal to the other.
“Four bat signals?” She looks amused, but underneath the small smile I can tell she’s concerned. I’ve only used the bat signal on her a small handful of times, and unfortunately most have revolved around Ryder. “Funny, I don’t need four by the way you’re shoveling that bread into your mouth.”
“You know I don’t know how to act around warm bread. I can’t help myself, and after what happened today, I’m about to eat three baskets.” I stuff another bite in.
Listen, in my defense, this bread is delicious. It’s grilled focaccia bread, so it’s light and airy, but with the delicious taste of smoke. Cover it with olive oil and Greek seasoning, and you’d be licking your fingers too.
Kelli reaches for the basket and pulls it away from me.
My head hangs a little, and Ryder’s words replay themselves.
I don’t want to be near you, and I definitely don’t want to hear your voice.
All these years and I still don’t understand what he has to be upset about.
I did nothing to him. He, however, did everything to me.
And by his expression, it was clear that he found me disgusting.
It was an emotion I’ve seen him give other people, but it was never directed at me, and even after all these years apart, it hurts.
“Spill it,” she says, taking a piece for herself.
I lean back in my chair and look around us.
The restaurant is two blocks from our apartment.
It’s a tiny hole-in-the-wall in a building.
The floors have mismatched tiles, and the walls are lined with images of Greece.
There’s no one here at the moment, other than the owner and his wife, as it’s not quite dinnertime, and I’m glad.
Should I end up crying, I don’t want anyone to see me.
Actually, no, I’m not going to cry. I’ve cried enough tears over him, and he definitely doesn’t deserve any more. What this bat signal session needs to be is a joining of my commiseration with hers. She’s going to understand perfectly.
“The Tarpons marketing team found old reels and pictures of Ryder and me, and they want to launch a Hometown Heroes campaign. We have to attend events together.”
She sucks in a quick breath and leans back. “Oh my God,” she whispers.
“I know.” I drop my forehead to the table, wishing I was telling her anything other than this.
“Did you see him?”
“Unfortunately, he was in the meeting,” I mumble against the plastic tablecloth.
Ugh. Just the image of him sitting across the table from me, all scowly and brooding, with his perfect dark hair and perfect dark eyes over this unfortunate situation, makes my stomach want to curl in on itself.
I pick up my head and stare at my friend’s concerned expression. Undoubtedly she’s worried. She knows how much damage he can cause me and how quickly.
“I knew there would come a time when we would run into each other, but I wasn’t ready.
It’s literally too soon. Everything still feels new.
We haven’t had any games. I don’t feel like I have my footing yet within our team and the organization, and it’s just day one.
Day one! Why is this happening to me?” I cover my face with my hands and let out a long, exasperated moan.
I’m trying to hide in plain sight. Hide from who? Who knows. Most likely myself.
“Well, tell them no. It’s okay to set boundaries, even in your career,” she says firmly.
My eyes find hers, and I say the one thing that I know will give her pause. “They said they’d sponsor the Mighty Monarchs.”
Her eyes widen with sudden excitement. “Cheese. And. Crackers.”
Sponsors are how we make this program work. I know her wheels are turning.
“You can say that again,” I tell her, dropping my hands and grabbing back the basket to stuff more bread into my mouth.
“Okay, well let’s look at this objectively and quantifiably.
Let’s separate the assignment from emotions and break it down.
How many events? How long is each event?
How much interaction is actually required at these events?
Can you have a plus-one like me at the events?
I can be a great shield. I’d also probably be pretty good at burying a body. Just say the word.”
A laugh escapes me. She always has a way of making me feel better. “First up is a photo shoot this Sunday and then community events.” A photo shoot where I’ll have to stand next to him. God help me if they make him touch me.
“How many?”
“I don’t know yet. I haven’t gone through the PR packet they gave us.”
“Al, you know the Mighty Monarchs would be fine without the Tarpons. We’ve got a few smaller sponsors lined up, and we always make it work.” She grabs a piece of bread from the basket before I eat it all. I appreciate that she’s being supportive, but we both know we could use the money.
“I know, but they’re also offering a halftime performance.
This would be a dream come true for so many of these kids and their families.
Just think of all the free tickets they’ll give us.
I can’t deny them that because I have personal issues with a guy.
I’m not in danger being around him. It’s that I don’t want to be. ”
She leans back in her chair. “Game time, too?”
“Yep.”
I know she’s imagining all their little faces when we tell them. It’s hard for me not to imagine them too, and with that it does slow my racing heart.
“Well then, I think right now we should switch the narrative. Instead of worrying about Ryder and his role in this arrangement, let’s be indifferent toward him and grateful for the opportunity past you is giving to future you.”
Opportunity.
I force myself not to think about him, but all the late nights, hours, heart, and soul she and I have poured into this program. What the Tarpons are giving us has the potential to impact so many little lives, and this grounds me.
I sit up a little straighter. “You’re right. It’s all about perspective, and I need to change mine.”
Is it unfortunate that I’m being forced to spend time with him? Yes. But I can handle it. I’ve handled worse.
“Come on, let’s get the server to take a video of us toasting.
You never know who’s watching, and we need it to look like we’re celebrating something big at dinner.
Which we are. This opportunity is amazing.
Besides, I’m wearing this bracelet today by Georginna that I can link to purchase.
” She waves the bracelet in front of me.
It is beautiful. It’s made of gold wires woven together, and a large piece of sea glass sits on her wrist.
“Oh, that will definitely get some sales. It’s beautiful.”
She orders us both a glass of sangria. The server takes a video of us toasting and a picture for the cover of the reel.
As we both take a few minutes to post across our different social media platforms, I mentally work to turn this ache in the pit of my stomach into excitement.
She’s right. Future me can’t wait to announce the sponsorship.
Just the swag bags alone will be extraordinary.
And the look on all their sweet faces? This one hundred percent lifts my spirits.
She’s also right about the toast. You never know who’s watching, and in case he is, he needs to see that I’m opportunistic and unaffected.
Screw him for making my emotions waver. While I don’t think I could ever truly hate him, what I’m feeling is pretty close to it.
All the more reason to keep my priorities in check, keep focus on the big picture for the Mighty Monarchs, and no matter what, when it comes to Ryder, keep the upper hand.