Chapter 17 Maya
Maya
Fourteen days to the match
Nadine is already sitting at a table in the restaurant when I arrive.
She waves me over and I nod to her when the waiter asks me if I have a reservation, before making my way to her.
She looks different from when we were younger – way, way different.
Her hair, which used to be dyed a different colour every couple of months, is back to her natural shade – a deep chestnut colour.
There are bags under her eyes and smile lines around her mouth.
Back in school she used to experiment with all kinds of make-up, but she seems to have foregone most of that now.
‘Hey!’ Nadine jumps to a stand as soon as I’m in front of her, wrapping her arms around me. At least she still seems to have her fervour.
I hug her back and when we pull away from each other, I take the seat opposite her. She smiles, seemingly studying me in the same way I’ve been studying her. She doesn’t say anything, though, and I wonder what she thinks about the ways I’ve changed and the ways that I haven’t.
Ever since the dawat at Isra Auntie’s house, I’ve decided to try to reconnect with old friends again.
Despite feeling overwhelmed at seeing so many people and being accosted with so many questions, it also feels like the first step to really figuring out my life again.
Because it has to be more than quiet dinners with my parents and coaching the girls on my football team.
Nadine has been the only one who’s managed to find some time in her busy schedule to suggest a meet-up, and I jumped at the chance.
After all, we were best friends once. For a long time.
Even if we lost touch when I moved to America.
‘So … what have you been up to?’ Nadine finally asks.
The question feels elusive. How do you condense nine years of life into a single conversation?
‘Oh, you know,’ I say. ‘Just … this and that. Playing football and then not playing football. And now I’m coaching a team for the school. Ms Jacobs asked me to.’
Nadine’s eyebrows shoot up. ‘You’ve seen Ms Jacobs? Recently?’
‘She basically forced me to give an impromptu speech to the entire school, and then asked me if I’d coach the school team for the summer.’
Nadine’s eyes widen, and she lets out a quick, short burst of laughter, which makes me grin. ‘Ms Jacobs was always a character, wasn’t she?’
‘I guess she was.’ I’d forgotten how Nadine, Gwen and I used to roll our eyes at Ms Jacobs’ antics sometimes. How she’d try to mimic any slang that we used to say at the time and act like she was in the know. She definitely seems a lot more comfortable with herself now.
‘It must have been weird being back in school,’ Nadine says.
‘That’s one way to put it.’ I shrug. ‘What about you, though? What have you been up to? I can’t believe it’s been so many years since we last saw each other.’
‘You’re the one who jetted off to America,’ Nadine says, teasingly.
She doesn’t sound bitter about it, the way Dina did a few days ago.
At first, Nadine and I had tried to keep in contact, but it was difficult with the time difference.
It didn’t help that, in the beginning, I felt so overwhelmed with everything, and I was still reeling from what had happened with Dina, that the thought of staying in touch with anyone felt painful.
It wasn’t long before our messages had trickled down to a few times a year, for birthdays or special occasions. And then complete silence.
‘Well, yeah, but I’m back now and I want to know everything that’s been going on with you.’
‘Nothing too exciting.’ Nadine shrugs. ‘I mean, no jet-setting around the world, or becoming kind of a celebrity.’ She gives me a smile.
‘I went to university for a while, did a bullshit business degree that didn’t take me anywhere.
I hated every job that I had afterwards, and I’m actually doing a nursing degree now. ’
Nadine and I used to stress out about what we even wanted to do with our lives after school.
I’d never seriously considered football, it always felt like too much of a risk.
I used to say that maybe I’d study medicine, or engineering.
The kind of fields that I felt my parents might be able to brag to aunties and uncles about.
Nadine used to float around between different things she wanted to study; one day it was psychology, the next computer science.
I vaguely remember when she’d finally applied and got her offers.
Even vaguer are the memories of when she started university; she’d text me about her classes, lecturers, the people she met.
I was too busy with my own life to pay too much attention to what was going on with her.
I’m sure she was just as overwhelmed as I was.
‘Do you like nursing?’ I ask.
‘Yeah.’ Nadine smiles, and it makes her eyes light up.
‘My aunt got sick a couple of years back and I got to see how hard the nurses worked. It made me appreciate it and helped me realise that I wanted to do something like that with my life, instead of working for some firm that’s pretty much destroying the world. ’
She sounds so sure of who she is now, so proud of her work.
I’m happy for her, but there’s this quiet whisper of envy inside me too.
I want to feel like Nadine does: happy with where I am, satisfied in my career.
Instead, I still feel unmoored and unsure.
After my summer of coaching, who knows what I’ll do?
Maybe I’ll be back to moping around my bedroom, feeling sorry for myself.
‘I’m really glad that you found something that you love,’ I say.
Nadine’s smile widens. ‘Do you like the coaching gig? Do you … miss playing professionally?’
I hesitate to answer. I haven’t really asked myself either of those questions.
Do I like coaching? I think so, but I still second-guess myself, still question what I’m teaching the team half the time.
I still feel a little bit like an imposter who just walked onto a football pitch – not unlike how I felt the first time I played a match for the Vikings.
‘I like coaching,’ I say finally. ‘I mean, I learned so much while I was playing in America, and it’s nice to be able to do something with all that knowledge.
’ I chew on my lip, not wanting to answer the second part of her question, even though Nadine is looking at me expectantly.
Because if I answer honestly, then I know the question that comes next, and it’s not one I want to answer.
‘Playing professionally was nice. It was … kind of a dream come true, but …’ I pause, shrugging my shoulders. ‘It’s behind me now.’
Nadine studies me for a moment, and I inwardly wince, awaiting the dreaded questions about why I quit my dream job, about the things that the newspapers have been saying about me.
But she doesn’t. Instead, she picks up the menu and says, ‘Should we order then? The fish here is really good, by the way.’
I let out a breath, feeling my shoulders relax a little. ‘Yeah, let’s order.’
It’s strange how quickly Nadine and I manage to slip back into conversation after we’ve ordered.
It almost feels like no time has passed at all – that there was never a hiccup in our friendship for nine years.
Nadine tells me about the professors at her university, and the other nursing students.
She tells me about the things that she likes about it, and the things that she doesn’t.
She fills me in on what her family have been up to, and some of the old friends from school that she still keeps in touch with.
Gwen, apparently, met a guy in Paris and decided to move there and get married.
Now she works as a teacher there and is a fluent French speaker despite failing French GCSE in school.
Meanwhile, I tell Nadine about my old teammates, living in America, travelling around with the team to play matches.
I leave out the bad stuff, only because I don’t want to think about it, and I don’t want to invite questions.
Still, it feels nice to talk about it. It reminds me that my time on the team wasn’t all bad.
By the time Nadine and I are finished with our lunch and finally ask for the bill, hours have passed by. Outside, the sun is on its way down, and it’s shocking that the waiters haven’t kicked us out.
Nadine and I stand up and make our way outside together.
‘So, where are you living these days?’ I ask. Back when we were in school, Nadine’s house was only a fifteen-minute walk from mine. We spent a lot of time at each other’s places, and our parents were probably sick of it.
‘I have an apartment in West London,’ Nadine says. ‘It’s near the university, and I share it with a couple of other nursing students. It’s pretty intense; we pretty much spend all of our time studying.’
‘I’m back in my parents’ place,’ I say.
‘My parents are still in the old house. Maybe I can come around to see you next time I visit them,’ Nadine says.
‘Yeah, that would be nice.’ I smile. I’ve been nervous that seeing Nadine again would feel strange.
Unlike Zul, Nadine and I were really friends.
We shared everything with each other. I was worried that reconnecting with her now would do away with our past somehow.
That it would feel like meeting a stranger who you have vague memories of.
But it hasn’t felt like that – it feels like old times and I’m glad that I did it.
I pull Nadine into a hug as a form of goodbye, but just as the two of us are about to go our separate ways, Nadine calls me back.
‘You know, if you ever wanted to talk about stuff, I would listen,’ she says.
Her voice is sincere, but it surprises me that after our casual conversation she says this at all.
When I look at her questioningly, she sighs and adds, ‘I could tell that you were holding stuff back, about your time in America. Which is fine, it’s not like everything in life has been rosy for me in the last couple of years either.
’ I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. It’s been so many years since Nadine and I last saw each other – of course she’s had struggles too.
‘Thanks. Maybe next time we meet we could talk about the not-so-rosy stuff,’ I say.
Nadine smiles as she waves goodbye.
As I walk to the tube station, I wonder about telling Nadine.
I imagine filling her in on everything that’s happened, telling her the reason why I quit the team.
I’m sure she would listen with rapt attention, that she would give me a sympathetic smile or hug.
But she wouldn’t really understand. There’s only one person who would get it, and she’s the one person that I can’t talk to.
She’s the one person who doesn’t want anything to do with me.
My phone buzzes with a notification and I slip it out of my pocket to see a new email from Isabel. Frowning, I click onto it. I’m not sure why Isabel would email me, when we usually just talk on the phone.
Subject: Fundraiser Info
Nina is so excited that you agreed to speak!
The fundraiser is on the 14th (I know that’s soon, but I’m guessing you’ve already been preparing the speech), and Nina says you can speak as little or as much as you want!
It’s really just about sharing your experiences so that the attendees can see the importance of women’s football, supporting youth clubs for girls, etc.
Location of the hotel attached! Nina is so excited to see you again! !
My stomach sinks more and more with every word.
What the hell have I signed up for? I vaguely remember a call with Isabel where she mentioned Nina, but I was too preoccupied with coaching to hear exactly what she said.
I have half a mind to email Isabel back and say absolutely no way in hell am I going to be doing this.
But I can feel the enthusiasm in her email, and it will be nice to see Nina again.
Maybe it won’t be the worst thing in the world, going to this fundraiser.
Taking a deep breath, I click on the attachment.