4. A Disappointing Re
A Disappointing Reunion
Olli
There were very few things about my childhood that I remembered. My father was in the Navy, so I spent nearly every summer moving. Everything started blurring together at some point, the schools, the teams, the friends.
But I did remember Kodi Davey.
From the summer after second all the way through third grade, we lived in Panama City. And Kodi was my neighbor.
We met in front of our houses, both of us rolling our bikes out of our respective garages. She dropped her bike, skipped over to me, and introduced herself with a long, rambling speech.
The crush was instantaneous.
After that, we spent nearly every day together.
We rode around the neighborhood, played at the beach, and we even attempted to play soccer, though I was never able to get her to kick with the inside of her foot instead of her toes.
It was, hands down, the best summer of my childhood.
For the first time in my life, I had a friend, someone who I could talk to when my parents weren’t around, a familiar face in school on the first day, all the things normal kids had.
But as things go when you're a Navy kid, it didn’t last long. Less than a month into my second summer in Panama City, we had to move.
We were both crushed when we found out. That night, we spent the whole evening in her tree house, planning how we could hide me at her place without her parents finding out. It was a ridiculous plan, but we were kids, best friends, and being separated felt like the end of the world.
And what made it all the worse was, when we saw my dad approaching the tree house to finally drag me home, she kissed my cheek and hugged me so tightly that something clicked in my brain.
I had a crush on Kodi. I had a crush on Kodi and I would never see her again.
It might have sounded dramatic, but in my defense, for the first eight years of my life, I had never seen any of my other friends. So it stood to reason that I wouldn’t see Kodi again, either.
Once my dad was able to drag me out of the tree house, I was grounded, essentially under house arrest, until the move.
And once moving day came and went, I was left with nearly no way to contact Kodi.
It was eighteen-some odd years ago and social media wasn’t really a thing then, let alone for eight-year-olds, so I went with letters.
I sent nearly a dozen before I got the first one back with return to sender stamped on it.
That’s when I figured it was over. I’d lost my first crush before even getting the chance to do anything about it.
There’d been moments since moving to Destin and joining the Dastards that I thought maybe I’d run back into Kodi.
Panama City was only an hour or so away and we’d talked about soccer enough that it’d be reasonable that she’d go to a game.
But I always dismissed those thoughts as wishful thinking.
It’d been years, she’d probably moved or changed interests, and I didn’t need any distractions from work.
I had dreams, tournaments I wanted to play in, the World Cup, the Olympics, and all of those things required a lot of work and practice.
Plus, finding her again was unrealistic.
Or so I thought, until I saw Kodi’s name on the resume and my mind went into overdrive thinking about her and our history together.
Did she apply for the job because of me?
Did she remember that kiss? Has she followed my soccer career this entire time?
Was she mad that she never got the letters I promised to send?
Was it even morally okay for her to be my PA after being my first crush?
Were all those feelings going to resurface the second I saw her again?
All these questions buzzed in my head as I waited in Hansen’s office to ‘meet’ my new PA.
“Kean, you do know you can’t change your mind if you don’t get along with her, right?” Hansen asked, checking on me for the dozenth time since I told him I wanted to hire Kodi without a second interview.
“I know,” I grumbled. Hansen thought I was being uncharacteristically reckless, but there wasn’t a single universe where I wouldn’t hire Kodi at a drop of the hat.
“Okay,” he said after a deep breath. “But just so you know, I think she’s rather extroverted. She might very well talk your ear off.”
“That’s fine.”
“Seriously? You’re fine with that? How’re you gonna handle things if she gets offended that you only speak in grunts or five word sentences?”
“She won’t.”
“Uh-huh.” Hansen leaned back in his chair, eyeing me suspiciously.
“Have you seen this girl? Know her story?” he finally asked.
“Her story?” I repeated. I figured Kodi didn’t tell Hansen that we knew each other since it might hurt her chances of getting the job. But his question had me second-guessing that.
“About her viral moment at a game a few years ago?”
“No,” I said honestly, but made a mental note to follow up with Kodi about it later. Viral moments should be good given her social media-driven resume, but Hansen said it like it was a bad thing.
“And —” Before Hansen could ask whatever follow-up question he had, a knock at the door stopped him. Hansen gave me another narrow-eyed look before sighing. Then he shouted towards the door, “Come on in.”
As the door cracked open, my whole body buzzed. I was suddenly nervous, more nervous than I was before qualifier games.
I was going to see Kodi again. My only real childhood friend.
I could even give her those letters that were returned. They’ve just been sitting in the back of my closet in a box with all my other childhood things that I couldn’t bear to part with.
“Nice to see you again, Mr. Hansen,” Kodi said as she stepped in and my heart fucking stopped.
In the days since I saw Kodi’s resume till now, I hadn’t given much thought as to what Kodi would look like as an adult.
My desire to see her was the same innocent desire I had as a kid.
It hadn’t evolved to anything more than just wanting to be in her company again, regain that friendship I lost all those years ago.
But seeing her, seeing adult Kodi, made that innocent desire mature. And mature fast.
Her hair had gotten longer or she let it grow out or whatever.
Soft, dirty blond waves tied up in a loose ponytail that fell to her back.
The color was lighter than it used to be, like she spent a lot of time out in the sun; same thing with her skin, white but tanned.
She wore a suit, I think. They weren’t the stick-straight type of pants, but they were tight, with a seam down the center of her thighs, in a sky blue and a matching jacket.
She looked high fashioned, like some of the younger reporters I’ve met.
She looked stunning. More than stunning.
And here I was in sweats and an old team T-shirt. Some of the guys thought it was a faux pas to wear our team’s merch. But along with all the other shit I was behind on, Florida weather clothes were at the top of the list.
A literal list, which I made for Kodi to get done in her first month.
“And it’s so nice to meet you, Mr. Kean,” Kodi said, voice chipper as she reached a hand out for me to shake. Instinctively, I reached for her hand, slowly sliding my palm across hers, heartbeat thundering.
I was holding Kodi Davey’s hand and I was freaking out.
Her hand was so soft. And smaller than I remembered, at least in comparison to my hand.
She shook with her right hand, so the fact that I didn’t see a ring didn’t mean much.
But she had a nice grip, firm and confident, slender fingers wrapping around the back of my hand. And —
Her words finally registered. She’d said ‘nice to meet you.’ Why the hell would she say that? Did she think she had to pretend we didn’t know each other in front of Hansen?
“I’m super excited to get to work with you,” she continued, letting go of my hand. “Admittedly, I haven’t followed the Dastards since …”
She looked at Hansen, a light glow of red creeping over her cheeks.
“As far as I know, none of the players are aware of that. And as far as I’m concerned, it can stay that way.”
“What?” I asked Hansen as Kodi let out a sigh of relief.
“Nothing to worry about, Kean.” He patted my shoulder. “But anyway, I’ll let y’all chat while I go get some paperwork from HR printed up.”
Hansen nodded to both of us before leaving his office, the door open.
“Kodi,” I stated, looking down at her with my brow furrowed.
I couldn’t figure out how to say what I wanted.
Or more like the order of what I wanted to say.
I wanted to tell her I’m excited she’s back in my life, that she was hired on her own merit and didn’t need to hide the fact that we knew each other, and ask if she was single.
But before I could settle on anything, she spoke up again.
“I really am crazy excited to work with you, Mr. Kean. I’ve been a fan of the Dastards for, like, ever. And while I’m definitely gunning more for the social media position, I promise everything you need will be taken care of first. And Mr. Hansen told me you’re hesitant about the team’s push for —”
My ears started ringing.
She didn’t remember me.
Kodi, my first friend, the bright light in my childhood, had forgotten all about me.
This job, our reunion, it was all just a coincidence.
“Here,” I grumbled, voice rough as I fought frustration. I fished the list of things I needed taken care of out of my pocket and shoved it in her hand. “Have that done by the end of the week.”
Without another word, I strode out of the office, hands shaking at my side. When I rounded the corner, I rested my back against the wall. I ran the hand that shook hers through my hair, fingers tightening in the short strands.
All that excitement from just minutes ago was completely drained. In its place was disappointment. Disappointment that I could already feel eating away at me.
So I did what I normally do when I was overwhelmed. I got to work.