11. Jensen
11
JENSEN
Professional Soccer Star Nessa Hart breathes new life into Blackstone University’s Soccer Dreams
By: Arden James
Coach Knox Turner, athletic director for the university, has confirmed that the sweeper for the Tennessee Tornadoes has accepted a temporary consulting position after needing to take a leave of absence at the end of last season. While Hart was unavailable for comment, Stella Arsenault, head coach of the Tornadoes, stated that the position will allow Hart to maintain her training regimen while also tending to a family matter. Coach Arsenault has asked for privacy for Hart and her family during this time…
I skim the rest of the article, letting the newspaper land with a thud on the table as I take a sip of my coffee, thankful there was no mention of Remi. Arden James is a transplant in our community and, so far, has been respectful of the folks in our small town.
The Blackstone Gazette was something of an enigma, still printing the paper despite so many other entities moving to online options to cut costs. We liked tradition here and we liked seeing our friends and neighbors on the pages in black and white.
Arden had recognized that and instead of trying to turn us into the gossip mill like the city she came from, she honored and showcased the hardworking people here.
“Morning,” Nessa purrs sleepily as she passes me, taking the mug I set out and filling it with coffee.
“You’re in the paper,” I say, nodding to the table. Nessa rolls her eyes as she cradles the cup in both hands and blows on the hot liquid, the steam billowing around her face.
She’s stunning.
And young.
Almost a full decade younger than me—eight years if you want to be technical—and she’s done nothing but handle this situation with grace and understanding. I really shouldn’t find that so appealing, but I do.
That and she already seems at home in my kitchen, soft and sleepy and like a fucking dream.
“That was fast. Did they use a good picture at least?” she asks, leaning over the table and shrugging a shoulder. “I’ve had worse.”
“I find it hard to believe that you could take a bad one.” It’s not a line, but I cringe because it sure as hell sounds like one.
Nessa snorts. “It’s honestly pretty magical what photographers and fans are able to capture. We’re out there running, diving, throwing elbows trying to get the ball and if you’re really lucky that’s what people focus on.” She takes a sip of her coffee, her eyes sparkling as she adds, “If you’re not, you’ll see your face zoomed in like a thousand percent like you’re on the freefall of a roller coaster and scared for your life.”
I chuckle because the visual is inspiring.
“That kinda thing happen a lot?”
“All the time. A lot of the funny or bad ones start circulating as a gif. We have a wall in the locker room with all the worst shots of us for the season, and at the end we vote on the worst one. Winner gets this really hideous trophy of a bobblehead that we spray-painted pink and your name gets added on a little plaque.”
“Have you ever won?” I ask, my lips twitching at the prospect.
“Sadly, no. I got close my rookie year. A player on the other team kicked it way the hell up the field, and I caught it in the chest before trapping it and sending it back. Cameraman got me right as I was bracing for impact.” She makes a face and it’s cute as hell.
“I’m sure you’re impressive to watch play.”
“Never been to a soccer game?”
“Maybe a couple but it’s been a while.”
“Let me guess, football star? Probably the captain?”
“Perhaps.”
“So obvious,” she mocks and it’s my turn to roll my eyes. “I bet you have some of those trophies in a box around here, don’t you?” She grins and looks around like they could be around every corner.
They’re not.
They’re at Mama’s house because when I told her I was just gonna toss them in the trash, she looked downright appalled and told me she’d hang onto them until I can find a spot. Not looking to get into that particular conversation, I change the subject.
“Are you looking forward to working with the university on their soccer program?”
“I am. Coach has an interesting perspective on what he’s looking for, and I always like giving back when and where I can. You remember your role models at that age, and it makes a difference knowing they’re still people.”
“That’s very noble of you.”
“There’s enough assholes in the world, especially when you have to have thick skin just to go to the grocery store. Professional sports is brutal and sometimes you just have to roll over and take it. Sometimes you get to fight back but at what cost? Victories like that off the field are so empty. It’s nice to connect with kids who are still shiny and bright and ready to take on the world.”
“You know you’re not much older than they are, right?”
A darkness flashes in her eyes, her face losing the brightness she’d just described.
“I’m going to go get changed for a run.” She holds up her cup. “Thanks for the coffee.”
Reaching out, I grab her arm and pull her to a stop. “I’m sorry.”
“I didn’t say anything,” she says coolly, and I keep my expression on the friendlier side of neutral.
“You didn’t have to. You’re upset,”—her eyes narrow and I hold my hands up in surrender—“pissed. You’re pissed.” I lower my hands and my voice. “Tell me why.”
Nessa stares at me a long moment, her eyes cataloging every line and angle of my face. I’ve been in a number of standoffs in my career, but I know with all that I am that the stakes are so much higher in this moment.
“I have fought tooth and nail to be seen as a professional, Jensen. I am a world-class fucking professional athlete, and you know what I get asked about in interviews?” It’s rhetorical so I don’t answer. “I get asked about my father’s NFL career and isn’t he proud of his little girl. I get asked about my dating life and how nice I look in a dress after being on the field all day and wow I look so young today but tomorrow someone is telling me I’m old and well past my prime. I fight every single day to be seen for more than the fact that I have tits and an ass, and I’m fucking tired, but you know who’s out there fighting for me? No one. So every day, I’ll get up and I’ll own the game and I’ll make myself unforgettable so that one day the female athletes that come after me won’t have to fight for the respect that is so easily given to others.”
A chasm sits between us as I replay her words. There’s a fierceness to them that’s undeniable as she watches me take it all in. It’s fucked up but I know that it’s true. Anyone with eyes can tell that she’s worked her ass off to get where she is both on and off the field.
“I apologize, Nessa. I didn’t mean any offense. I was trying to say that you’d be able to relate to them easier—as a positive but also as a joke,” I admit. “It missed the mark and was inappropriate and I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine, just?—”
“It’s not fine, Nessa,” I say louder than I anticipate. She quirks an eyebrow as I rub the back of my neck. “I shouldn’t have made the age comment because I know better. Hell, I’m the youngest sheriff this side of the state has ever had. I thought I had a decade or two before I’d get my chance, but then Sheriff Brannon had his hip surgery and all of a sudden I’m in charge and people are lookin’ to me for what’s next.” I sigh. “Not everyone liked that.”
“It’s a lot of pressure.”
“But it’s like you too. Someone is always watchin’. They’re waiting for you to make a mistake so they can capitalize on your humanity.”
Nessa’s face softens the tiniest bit. “I can be a little sensitive,” she says, the joke missing the mark like mine had, except this time she’s trying to downplay the effect it has on her.
“It’s fucked up, Nessa, and that’s not on you.”
“We can’t change the world overnight, Sheriff. One day, one moment, one second is all we have at any given time and we have to make the best of it.” She takes a step back toward her room. “And now, I’m really going to need that run. I’ll see you later.”