Chapter 30 Otto
OTTO
“You’re a little boring as a coach.”
I smile as soon as I hear her voice. It stays on my face as Claire takes the seat next to me.
“Am I?”
“We won, it’s a Friday night, and you’re not out partying?”
“You are here,” I state.
“Yeah, but I’ve always been boring.”
“You were never boring,” I counter. “And I did not party in…Paris.”
I throw it out there as a test. We’re… I don’t know what we are. Friends in some ways. Coach and player in others. But my relationship with Claire has always been unique. It’s never been easily definable.
Sometimes, the past feels off-limits between us. Sometimes, it feels like the past just took place, and we’re existing in the immediate aftermath.
“You partied after.”
“We had just won a gold medal. If I tried to disappear, everyone would have had questions. And I did not want to talk about it.”
She’s silent for a few seconds. “I never congratulated you.”
I exhale. “You did not need to congratulate me, Claire.”
“I should have though. I’m sorry I didn’t.
I just…” She props her feet up on the chair in front of her, sinking down in the seat.
“I was so wrapped up in my own disappointment. I felt like I’d let the whole team down.
Blown my one big chance. By the time I was able to look past that, it felt like it’d been too long. And you never reached out, so…”
“I wanted to. But you told me to not show up at that match. After you lost, I did not know what to say. Did not know if you blamed me or had any solution for us or know if you wanted to hear from me.”
Claire says nothing.
We stare at the empty stadium.
“This might be my last season.”
I glance at her, startled by the statement. “What? Why?”
“I signed a two-year contract.”
“They will offer an extension, Claire.”
“Probably,” she agrees. “But I’m not sure if I should take it. Someone else could have my spot. Someone who…wants it more.”
I frown. “You do not want it?”
“I don’t know if I want it. I haven’t loved playing in a long time. I love parts of it, and I hate parts of it, and I want to retire before I hate all of it. Before all I remember are the losses and the letdowns and the bruises. Does that make sense?”
“Of course it makes sense.”
“So, you…agree? I should retire?”
I laugh. “Of course not.”
“But you just said…”
“You think I have not had hard days? You think I have not let goals in? You think I have not lost games? You think I have not had days I wondered if I should have taken over my grandfather’s construction company, that he was right all along about football being a mistake?”
She sighs. “It’s different for you.”
“It is the same.”
“It’s not. You’ve won a gold medal. You’ve won a World Cup.
You’ve made millions. They’ll retire your jersey when you decide you’re done.
You’re so famous that Kluvberg flew you halfway around the world so you could recover away from scrutiny.
I’m not saying you don’t deserve any of that—you deserve all of it.
But I-I don’t have any of it. I don’t feel like I’ve accomplished what I wanted to.
And at some point… It feels like I should accept that and try something else. ”
“When we met in Paris, you said you wanted to play professionally. Here, in the US.”
“I remember.”
“What do you mean, you did not accomplish what you wanted to? You came back and did that.”
Another exhale. “I was so excited when they announced Boston as the location of the next expansion team. When the Siege made an offer. It felt like a fresh start even though I was moving home. I got used to being a background player in Denver, and people paid more attention to me here. I was the hometown success story. I didn’t deal with the pressure well to begin with, and then Mom got diagnosed, and things at home were more challenging…
I told Coach Taylor, and she had me meet with a sports psychologist.”
“Did that help?”
“Not really. Everything we worked on—pregame routines and bonding with my teammates and visualization—was helpful in certain moments. But then when I really needed them…nothing.”
“Is your mom… What is the…” I can’t figure out how to phrase the question, but Claire realizes what I’m trying to ask.
“Every case is different,” she says quietly.
“She has good days and bad days. She can’t control it—I couldn’t control it—and I let that affect everything.
We went to visit yesterday for Tommy’s birthday, and she was confused.
It was easier to play along with her reality when it was just me and her.
But her not recognizing Tommy? That’s hard. Especially for Cassidy.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize like it’s your fault. I’m just telling you…because I want to tell you, I guess.”
“How was the dinosaur party?” I ask.
Claire smiles. “It was good. Tommy had a blast, which was the important part. My, uh, my dad was there.” She plays with the zipper of her Siege windbreaker.
“We talked a little. It wasn’t great, but it wasn’t horrible either.
So…progress? He’ll be around more, it seems like.
And it’s been fourteen years. I’ve spent more than half my life acting like I don’t have a dad, but I do, technically.
I can hate what he did and not hate him… Maybe?”
I nod.
“I’ll pay you back.”
“For what?”
“You know for what.”
“It was not a big deal.”
“It was a huge deal, and I really appreciate it. But I can’t accept it.”
“Why not?” I challenge.
“Would you have paid for Savannah’s car to get fixed if it had broken down in the parking lot? Or Reyna’s?”
“Probably not.”
“That’s why, Otto. Right before it happened, you said you were going to treat me like every other player.”
“I was frustrated when I said that.”
She fiddles with the zipper again. “Because I stole your shirt?”
“Because you shut down every time Paris comes up.”
“Living it once was hard enough. And we were talking about your fiancée, not Paris, which I really don’t want to discuss.”
“She is my ex-fiancée, Claire.”
“Who called it off?”
“I did.”
“Why?”
“There were lots of reasons. Lots of times it did not feel…right. But we went out to dinner for my birthday, a night she had planned, and it was a fancy restaurant. It was just us; none of my friends or teammates were there. I knew we were different. I thought that was…healthy? But I realized she did not know me that night, not just the footballer. We did not agree on enough important things, let alone the small things, like where to eat. I ended it that night. She left the next morning.”
“Was it different when you first met?”
I sigh, leaning forward to rest my elbows on my knees. “No. It was never different.”
“Then why did you propose?”
“I thought it would make our relationship better. Beck got married and had a kid. So had a lot of my other teammates. I wanted that. I have never had a family really. I had only… We were the closest to a serious relationship. I thought that things felt different with Juliette because I was older. I did not realize I was comparing being in love to…not being in love.” I glance over as I add that last part, wanting to gauge her reaction.
Claire bites her bottom lip, blinking rapidly as she stares at the empty field.
I turn my head, looking at it too. Maybe it doesn’t change the past, but I don’t regret saying it.
The clock above the scoreboard shows it’s seven thirty.
“I have to go,” I say reluctantly. “Beck is landing at eight. I am picking them up from the airport.”
“Them?”
“Saylor and Gigi came too. They are only here for a couple of nights, and then they are going to visit Saylor’s family.”
“Oh. Okay. Have, uh, have fun.”
“Thanks.” I nod. Then stand.
“I’m going to pay you back.”
“Fine.” I start walking down the aisle.
“And, Otto?”
I glance back.
She’s staring after me, a small smile tipping up the corners of her mouth. “I was in love too.”
My grandfather calls while I’m driving to the airport. Anyone else, I wouldn’t answer. I’m busy replaying my conversation with Claire in my head.
But it is Opa. And he rarely calls, let alone when it’s the middle of the night for him.
So, I answer.
“Hallo, Otto.”
“Opa. Hallo. Is…is everything okay?”
“Fine,” he grumbles.
I was expecting a problem. An issue with the house or something concerning Mila.
“Has your hip been bothering you?” It’s the only thing I can think to ask him about.
“No. They did a fine job, fixing me up.”
“Good.”
An awkward pause falls before I ask the most obvious question. “Is something wrong?”
“Papers are saying you’ll be playing again soon.”
“You read the Sports section?”
“It wasn’t in the Sports section. Front page.”
“Oh.”
I didn’t consider that, but it makes some sense. Kluvberg ended the season decidedly mediocre, and although Banks wasn’t to blame, we had been first in the league when my injury happened.
“You’ll be back before training starts?”
“Yes. I still have commitments here, but they’ll wrap up by the end of June.”
“You’ll be back in July then?”
My forehead furrows in response to the unexpected question. “Yes?”
“Good. Goodbye, Otto.”
“Bye,” I say, and then the line goes dead.
Leaving me with the realization… I think my grandfather called me just to check in.