23. Will
23
Will
“ I ’ve been here before,” Alice says.
“When you were a kid, right?” We walk up to the entrance of Dick’s Sporting Goods Park—the Colorado Rapids stadium. I like the architecture on this front entrance. I have my architect working on something similar. We’ll only be a minor league team, but with Angelo Diaz investing, we’re going to have our own stadium. We’ve already got the community asking us for permission to use it for local events and games, and we haven’t even held a press conference yet.
“Yeah,” Alice says, peering around the windows and gray-brick front of the structure. “I was young though. I fell asleep halfway through. I just remember waking up to people chanting, Olé! Olé! Olé! It was crazy.”
“No falling asleep today,” I tell her. My legs are starting to sweat in Alice’s lime-green rubbery pants. I stretch out the material at my hip, but it refuses to allow any fresh air inside. Someone is going to have to cut me out of these things, I’m afraid.
“I make no promises,” she tells me. Her eyes drop to my legs. “Are you sure those were a good idea? It’s warm out there.”
“No. I’m really not. But then, you’re the one who picked them out.”
“As a joke. You weren’t supposed to actually buy them. Does Billy know you use his money so frivolously?”
“Billy’s crazy.”
Alice laughs. “You don’t believe that.”
I lift up my leg and give it a small shake, attempting to ease some of the pooling sweat out of my leg hole. I peer down at the pants I’m willingly wearing. “Some days,” I say, “I really do.”
I lead Alice along, stopping for popcorn and a soda.
“I thought you said there wouldn’t be food,” she says, looking at a hot dog stand a little too longingly.
“Do you want to eat here?” I assumed she’d want a nice dinner after.
“Um, yes! I’m experiencing it all, Will Henley.”
“All right, let’s do it.” I purchase two hot dogs and hand one paper tray to Alice. “This way,” I tell her. I lead Alice in and watch her face as the green comes into view. I don’t care who you are—soccer fields, when well-kempt, are impressive. They’re beautiful. For someone like me, even spiritual.
She grins. “Wow.”
“Yeah. Can you smell it?” I ask. I turn into a kid whenever I’m faced with a soccer field. My life got hard after the age of twelve, and the only place I felt peaceful or at home or any kind of normal was on a soccer field.
“Smell?” she says, peering over at me.
“Yeah. The grass, the dirt, the sun.”
Alice’s full lips turn up. “Yeah. I think I can smell it.”
She sets her popcorn bag on top of her hot dog and holds her food in a one-arm hold. Something foreign and strange possesses me as I share this with Alice. She has one free hand, and for some unknown reason, I feel the need to take it.
“This way,” I say, slipping my hand around hers. I lead her down the stairs, dead center section, to the most middle row in the stadium.
It’s pure luck that these tickets were still available.
“Huh,” she says as I stop at our row.
“Huh, what?” I keep my hand over hers. She’s small and soft and smells like flowers—like she should be part of this beautiful field.
“I just thought we’d be sitting closer. You know, first class. Clothes for the meeting. Billy usually goes all out.”
“Are you kidding?” I ask. “These are the best seats in the house. If you’re too close, you can’t see the entire field. If you’re too high up, the players are specks. Dead center, bottom section—perfection.”
“Okay.” She grins. “See, that makes sense.”
“Yeah,” I tell her. “Billy said, If Alice is going to a game, she needs to do it right .”
Alice pulls in a gasp, her head whipping up to mine. “Billy knows my name?”
Clearly, the idea means something to her. I hadn’t really thought about what I was saying, simply what I felt.
I release her hand and start sliding past the fans already in their seats—if I could have, I would have bought out the entire row, but there were only a few seats left.
“I can’t believe that Billy knows my name.”
“You are his employee,” I say, only three seats away now.
Alice is looking out at the field, her eyes zoned out, and moving at a snail’s pace down the row. “Billy said my name,” she says.
“Yes.” A frustrated sigh filters through my mouth. “He knows all of his employees.”
“But we’ve never met. I just never thought he’d bother remembering my name.”
I stare at her—she’s still looking off in awe. “You’re fairly unforgettable, Alice.”
Blinking over at me, her lips sprouting a grin. “I am?”
“Come on,” I say. I reach for her elbow and tug—to move her along. We’re so close now. But all I do is tug her popcorn in its team tin right out of Alice’s hand. I watch, as if in slow motion, as the bucket falls from her grasp, past my reach, and onto the large man in front of us.
Alice sucks in a gasp as the man—twice my size and with half my hair—swivels his head around to face her. His eyes bug out of his head, and his mouth rolls in an angry frown. Buttered popcorn rests on each of his large shoulders. He holds the empty tin out to her.
“I’m so sorry,” Alice says. She dabs at the man’s head with her napkin. Popcorn butter slides from the crown of his head, past his eyebrow, and down his cheek.
Alice reaches out again to wipe the man’s face, but I snatch her by the wrist.
“We apologize,” I say. “It was an accident. Can we get you something from concessions?”
“Soda?” Alice says, thrusting her Dr. Pepper toward the man.
“I only drink diet,” he says.
“Oh.” Alice swallows, and my grip on her elbow tightens. “I can get you something else?—”
“No,” he says. “Just tell me you and Rubber Legs here aren’t sitting right behind me.”
I wish we could tell him that. We are exactly one row behind and one chair to the side of him.
I clear my throat. “We’re just down here,” I say. “We’ll stay away.” I wait until he turns back around and is too busy brushing popcorn from his stomach and thighs to notice Alice and me sitting behind and just to the right of him.
Alice gives me a small glare, and I choke back my laugh.
“Okay,” she whispers, as if we might be in trouble for sitting here, “tell me about this game.”
And I do. I whisper up close and personal all through the pregame warm-up, and I don’t stop. I explain every move, every player, every foul, our heads together through it all—so as not to disturb our neighbor again. And Alice listens. She asks questions. She studies the game. She laughs. She cheers. She even chants Olé ! with the crowd.
It might be the best game I’ve ever been to.
And Alice doesn’t even doze off once.