Chapter 18 Maya
Maya
Thirteen days to the match
I stare at my phone screen, the words that I’ve written for today staring up at me. They feel disingenuous – like I’ve written out a bunch of lies to parrot.
Now that I’m sitting on the tube going into central London, to a big, fancy hotel, wearing a dress that clings to me a little too tightly, I’m reconsidering everything.
Technically, I could just turn back around and go home, but I know that both Isabel and Nina are counting on me.
So, I stare at the words on my phone screen again, silently mouthing the speech about how important football has been to me, and why it’s so vital that we encourage more women to get into the game.
But the speech feels phony, like it belongs to a past Maya rather than the one of today.
Sighing, I put my phone away just as the tube pulls into my station. I step off and navigate my way towards the hotel. I stand in front of the entrance for a moment, contemplating if I really want to go in, when a familiar voice calls my name from behind.
‘Maya?’ I turn around, to come face to face with my old teammate, Terri Calahan.
‘Oh my God, it really is you!’ Her face breaks out into a smile when she sees me.
She ambles forward and pulls me into a hug.
I feel like I’m frozen in place, unsure of what to say or even do.
I let her hug me for a moment, before quickly pulling away and trying to put on a smile of my own.
‘It’s good to see you. I didn’t know that you would be here,’ I say.
‘Yeah, I got the invite a couple of weeks ago. I’ve been back here for a few weeks, because of my knee injury, so I thought, why not?’ She shrugs. ‘Well, come on, let’s go in.’
‘Right.’ I follow her through the front doors. I guess there’s no turning back now.
The fundraiser is already in full swing, and as soon as I walk into the hall, I spot half a dozen people that I recognise.
Players from teams that I’ve played against, their coaches and managers.
I even spot some of the reporters that were constant nuisances when I was playing.
The whole scene unfolding in front of me makes my heart beat faster.
I take a deep breath and turn away from the crowd, hoping that none of the people here recognise me.
Instead, I focus on the events hall itself.
It has been decorated in football paraphernalia, though somehow the hotel has managed to make football-themed decorations and finger food look upscale instead of like a ten-year-old’s birthday party, which is pretty impressive.
I see football-shaped macarons going around, along with glasses of wine, while the whole room has been decked out in the colours of the England women’s football team.
I also notice several photos on the walls of various girls’ football clubs.
The photos show the girls beaming at the camera with their arms slung around each other.
‘Wow, they’ve really gone all out with the fundraiser,’ Terri chuckles. ‘I shouldn’t be surprised. Nina Hall organised this. Remember her?’
‘Yeah, Isabel mentioned that. Nina was always on top of everything,’ I say.
‘So, how have you been anyway?’ Terri asks.
‘Good, yeah,’ I say, at a loss for how to respond. I could tell Terri about coaching, but it feels so lacklustre all of a sudden.
‘Honestly, I’m kind of surprised to see you here. I mean, when you quit, we thought you were done with football for good.’
I frown. I never gave a real explanation for why I made the decision that I did.
They wouldn’t have understood; everything they had done, or not done, had showed me that they wouldn’t, even if they wanted to.
But I still don’t know why they would assume that I would be completely done with football simply because I had quit the team.
‘Isabel invited me,’ I explain, trying not to let my annoyance seep into my voice.
‘I’m actually speaking. I guess Nina and Isabel thought that I could talk about how important football is for young girls, since I’ve been playing since I started secondary school.
And it turned out …’ I drift off, because we both know how it turned out.
‘We wondered why you—’ Terri begins.
I knew that this was coming, the wondering, the questions. I don’t have any answers. I’d rather chew my own arm off than continue discussing this.
‘I’m going to get something to drink,’ I cut Terri off, turning around and launching myself towards the crowd.
I look around for one of the waiters that I’ve seen floating around with trays of food and drink.
Finally, I spot a black-and-white tux in a sea of sparkly dresses.
I weave through the guests, trying to get the waiter’s attention, but there are a few too many people.
Someone jostles me as I’m passing by, and I run right into the waiter, whose tray full of food goes splattering to the ground.
‘I’m so—’ But when I look up and find familiar liquid brown eyes, my words catch in my throat. It’s not just any waiter that I’ve run into.
It’s Dina.
For a moment, I’m not even sure what to think or feel.
My heart is beating a million miles a second, and my mind is a jumble of thoughts that I can’t make head or tail of.
Dina must be just as surprised to see me here as I am her, because we can only hold each other’s gazes.
And I’m a little too aware of the fact that Dina is also holding me.
Her arms are wrapped around my waist in a bid to keep me from tumbling to the ground, while my arms are clasped around her shoulders.
As if we both realise the position that we’re in at the same time, we step back. Dina retrieves her arms as I stand up straight. Still, I feel the absence of her touch like a missing limb. Just in the few seconds she was holding me, I remembered what it felt like to be held by Dina.
And I’ve started missing it already.
It takes me another moment to come back to reality – one where Dina and I aren’t the only people in the room, or in the world. Where we’re surrounded by my football peers, at a charity fundraiser, and Dina is wearing a waiter’s uniform.
‘What … what are you doing here?’ I blurt out.
Dina takes a step back, trying to clean off her uniform, which is smeared with some of the entrées on her tray. ‘You should watch where you’re going,’ she mumbles, just as a host of other waiters appear, helping her clean up and mopping the floor around us.
When I look around, I realise that the world didn’t stop when Dina and I ran into each other.
Instead, the whole thing has turned into a little bit of a spectacle.
It’s not just other waiters who saw what happened, but the attendees of the fundraiser too, their eyes shifting from me to Dina.
Heat floods through me. If people weren’t paying attention to me before, they definitely are now.
I want to apologise to Dina for causing such a ruckus, and I still want to know why – of all the places in the world – she’s here.
And why she’s waitressing, when the last time we spoke, she told me about some job in finance.
But it’s not the right time. Here, especially, the differences between us feel marked – with me dressed up with my peers and Dina in a uniform.
This is definitely not the time and place for any kind of conversation, if that time and place even exists.
I retreat, mumbling an apology that I’m not sure Dina even hears.
There are still curious onlookers watching me, though many have turned away.
I move through the crowd again, trying to find some kind of reprieve from all of these people.
The idea that I’ve made a mistake by coming here is growing stronger and stronger with each passing moment.
I’ve left this life behind, that was my choice.
Dipping my toes back into it is a terrible idea.
But then I spot Nina in the distance, waving me over. She looks the same as I remember – with her shoulder-length dark red hair framing her heart-shaped face. She’s surrounded by a few women that I don’t recognise.
Though it’s the last thing I want to do, I make my way over, joining them with a smile.
Nina leans forward, pulling me into a hug. ‘It’s so good to see you again. Are you OK? I saw that little tumble over there.’
‘Yeah, I wasn’t watching where I was going and … it was totally my fault,’ I say, feeling like I have to defend Dina.
‘These things happen, especially when there’s so many people around.’ Nina waves her hand like she’s seen it a million times. ‘Besides, sometimes these catering companies hire new servers who don’t always have the hang of things; it takes them a while to figure everything out.’
Nina speaks like someone who has organised a lot of these events, and I wouldn’t be surprised if she has.
Ever since she left her coaching position, I thought that she would be relaxing and settling into a life back home.
But she has always been a bit of a go-getter.
Even back when she was coaching, she used to run a mentoring programme for young girls in football.
‘You guys remember Maya, right?’ Nina asks, turning to the other women.
I immediately recognise Claire and Louise, former players from Nina’s team.
‘It’s been ages, Maya,’ Claire says as she pulls me into a hug, and Louise gives me an enthusiastic pat on the back. The last time we saw each other was when the Vikings beat the Royals in a match. But they were good sports about it, and we all went out for drinks afterwards.
The other women shake their heads. I’ve never seen them before either, though I’m not exactly surprised.
They look young and shy, and I realise they must be new recruits.
Seeing them makes me feel a little nostalgic – I remember being the new recruit, being filled with hopes and dreams. Unfortunately, it only carried me so far in the end.
‘This is Charlotte,’ Nina points to the girl with black hair and a bashful smile. ‘And Emilie.’ The girl with the blonde bob waves. ‘They’ve just started with the Knights football team here. And Maya used to play as a forward for the Vikings.’
‘Who do you play for now?’ Emilie asks curiously.
‘Um, I don’t play anymore, actually. I … retired.’
‘Oh.’ Emilie looks taken aback by that response, and I feel myself flush.
‘Oh, I remember they did a story about you on The Warm Up,’ Charlotte says.
That elicits an awkward silence from the entire group.
Like they’ve all watched the show, the one pointing out how it was probably my prickly personality that resulted in me leaving football.
Standing there, surrounded by these women, I realise that they’ve most likely been hearing all the news stories.
They’ve probably been on Twitter, seen the viral tweets calling me out for being a bully.
Maybe they’ve been scrolling through the same subreddits where people are pointing out every single flaw that I have, marking out every mistake that I’ve ever made.
I’m trying to think of excuses to exit the conversation without seeming rude and regretting the decision to even come here at all. But Nina chimes in before I can say anything.
‘I think The Warm Up was so unfair to you. Just perpetuating rumours without any kind of citations. I thought sports journalism was better than that,’ she says, offering me a sympathetic smile.
I’m not sure if I should feel touched by her support or mortified that she thinks I’m so pathetic I need it.
‘The newspapers in general have been terrible,’ Louise says, nodding in agreement.
‘Sports journalists used to have respect for the game back when I played. These days, it’s all about sensationalising everything.
I mean, it’s pathetic that a player can’t just retire without it having to be a whole big thing.
There doesn’t have to be a story to everything.
’ Nina’s voice takes on a tone of righteousness.
And while I appreciate her support and understanding, this is the last thing I want to talk about. I don’t want to know what news articles and talk shows my peers have watched. I don’t want to know what they discuss about me, what they believe and what they don’t believe.
‘Did you injure yourself, or something?’ Emilie asks with a frown. She obviously hasn’t been keeping up with the news cycle.
Claire shoots her a glare, but I’ve had enough of this conversation.
‘Sorry, I should go. I told my friend that I would … and, yeah, I have to …’ I turn around, though my excuse was barely formed.
I can feel the pinprick of tears behind my eyes, the blood rushing in my ears.
The room around me begins to blur as I push past throngs of faceless people, who all seem to peer at me like I’m some kind of animal in the zoo.
I’m not a person, I’m a curiosity, and it feels like these questions will never stop.
I should never have come here.