Chapter 1 Dina #2
Jen rolls her eyes in good humour. ‘Please. I don’t think sports teachers are that hard to come by and I wasn’t trained in coaching football teams. Besides, I was still learning the ropes back then.’
‘It never felt like that to me,’ I say. Jen had seemed like someone who had been coaching football her whole life. She knew how to get the best out of us by caring about us. Each and every one of us.
‘You made it easy,’ Jen says. ‘You were already so good at football.’
A bloom of pride warms me. I can’t remember the last time someone complimented me on doing something well. But my high comes crashing down as fast as it came when I remember her. It’s like I can’t even think about football without her face appearing in my memory.
‘Well, I’m glad another team gets to experience your amazing coaching,’ I say, trying to shake my memories off.
Jen’s smile wavers a little. ‘Thanks, Dina. Though, truthfully, this coaching job is a little different from when I was doing it at school. I mean, back then, it was part of my job, and I was younger and had so much energy. Now, I always have a million things on my plate. Sometimes, I feel like I can barely fit coaching into my schedule, so it falls to the wayside. Which is pretty unfair on the team.’ She pauses, looking at me closely.
‘I’m actually looking for an assistant coach to help me out.
The council finally managed to find some funding for a part-time position, but I’ve had no luck with finding someone so far. ’
The way she’s looking at me makes me think for a second that she’s considering me for the position.
‘Well, a sedentary office job doesn’t really qualify one for an assistant coach position.’ I chuckle. ‘I’m sure you’ll find someone soon.’
‘Yeah, I hope so,’ Jen says. ‘I shouldn’t be talking your ear off about all of this anyway. How have things been with you?’
‘Things have been … good, yeah,’ I say, nodding, though the last thing I want to get into is details about my life.
Being unemployed and having no future prospects is not the kind of thing you want to share with your former mentor.
‘I should, um, get you some water and then take your orders. Why don’t you take a seat and I’ll be right back? ’
I turn around and almost run right into Deen, who is already heading to the table with a jug of water and a stack of metal cups.
‘Whoa, careful there,’ he says, weaving around me. He greets Jen and the girls with a grin, serving them their water and taking their orders with his signature charm.
Jen flashes me a smile as Deen leaves the table, and it’s clear that she wants to catch up some more, but catching up would require me having to share things about my life too.
And I’m definitely not ready for that. So, I give her a small wave, before retreating back to the office and closing the door behind me.
‘So … that was your old coach, right? What was her name again? Anne?’ Deen asks later as we’re closing up the restaurant.
‘Jen,’ I say, clearing up the area where the girls had been sitting.
They made a total mess of things: the tablecloth is half off the table; rice and curry stains all over it.
I pull it off the table and toss it aside.
It will have to go in the wash, and even then, I’m not sure if those stains will come off.
‘It’s nice that she’s still coaching,’ Deen comments.
‘Yeah, a rowdy bunch of teenagers,’ I grumble. ‘She said it’s part of her work for the council.’
‘And she said she was looking for an assistant coach …’ Deen raises an eyebrow at me, and even though he doesn’t say it outright, I know what he means.
‘No. No way,’ I say.
‘Why not? You were her star football player, if I remember correctly,’ Deen says.
‘Yeah, an entire lifetime ago. And it’s not like it led anywhere …’ I almost think back to those days.
To her.
I shake my head, clearing my mind of those thoughts. ‘That was my past, and in case you don’t remember, I didn’t exactly have success in football. So, why would I be a good coach? All I can teach those girls is failure.’
‘That’s dramatic,’ Deen mumbles, before turning to me with a determined look in his eyes.
‘You didn’t fail, Dina. Plus, having someone who has life experience as a coach can be good.
I mean, it’s not like Jen was a mega-successful football star.
Did that make her any less important to you as a mentor? ’
When Deen puts it like that, it almost makes sense. But no, there is no way I am going to go back to football. Not after it chewed me up and spat me out.
‘I’m not doing it. She would have tried to convince me to take the job if she wanted me, but she didn’t, so obviously she doesn’t think I’m good enough either.’
‘Or … she remembers what happened and she didn’t want to ask outright in case you were still sensitive about it,’ Deen points out. ‘Which, in case you were wondering, you are.’
‘I’m not sensitive about it,’ I say darkly, which probably isn’t helping prove my point. Maybe I am a little sensitive about it, but I’ve earned the right to be.
‘Look, Dina. Dreams die in our family. Ma’s dreams of being an actress failed.
Baba’s dreams of this restaurant died with him.
But you still have time to make something of your dreams,’ Deen says.
And I realise that he’s being extremely serious about all of this from the way he holds my gaze.
He really thinks that, somehow, I’m the member of our family who can go out there and achieve my dreams; end our cycle of settling for a life that we’re ultimately unhappy with.
‘What about you?’ I ask.
‘Me?’ Deen asks, as if he has never even factored himself into this equation.
‘What about your dreams of the restaurant? The new menu? The new decorations? Sprucing it up, bringing in new customers? Really doing the cooking thing?’
‘That was just … talk.’ Deen waves his hand dismissively.
‘You talk to Ma about the menu, and … maybe I’ll apply for the coach position.’ I shrug, going back to clearing the tables. I expect that to be the end of the matter, because there is no way that Deen will actually brave that conversation with our mother.
‘You know those two things are not the same,’ Deen says after a moment. ‘But … I’ll consider talking to her.’ I stop mid-cleaning and turn to Deen.
‘Seriously?’
Deen shrugs, acting as if the idea of talking to Ma is not a big deal, and not something he’s been avoiding for months and months now.
I stand up straight, looking Deen square in the eye. He seems sincere in his intentions. Maybe he will seriously think about it. Maybe he’ll actually do it.
But knowing Deen, and knowing our family, I don’t have much hope.
‘OK. Then I’ll think about applying to be a coach,’ I say.
Deen’s face breaks out into a grin. He knows this is the most he can hope for, and I know that it most likely won’t amount to anything.
But at least the two of us are happy living in our denial.