Chapter 32 Dina #3
There’s only eight minutes left, but as soon as the referee blows the whistle this time, the Divas are on the go.
Sara gets the ball and immediately guns for the goal, but one of the Westbrook defenders tackles the ball away from her.
It’s like that for the next five minutes; back and forth, with neither team taking any clear-cut chances.
Finally, with just a minute to go, Jade gets the ball and the pitch is fairly open in front of her.
I chew on my lip as I watch her dribble the ball for a little bit, before playing it through to Sara in front of her.
One of the Westbrook midfielders almost manages to intercept, but Sara keeps hold of the ball, quickly running towards the goal in front of her.
My chest squeezes as I watch. The seconds are ticking down, I can feel it.
Any minute now, the referee will blow her whistle, and the match will be over.
This is our last chance to score – our last chance to snatch a draw, which would lead to a penalty shoot-out, where maybe we could actually win.
As if in slow motion, Sara pulls her foot back and strikes the ball. It goes flying through the air, and the Westbrook goalie dives for it. Her fingertips reach out, grabbing for the ball. For a moment, it looks like she’ll miss it, but somehow she manages to get hold of the ball.
I let out a breath as the referee blows her final whistle. We were so close. So damn close.
The girls seem anything but deflated, though.
Even Sophie, sitting beside me and Jen, is smiling as she cheers the girls on as they go across the pitch, to shake hands with the girls from the other team – the winning team.
Even after everything they said to the Divas.
I feel my heart fill with pride at the sight – at the fact that we played this game at all, that the girls went out there and did their best, even if they didn’t end up winning.
This is the best match that the Divas have ever played after all, and I know that it won’t be long until they finally start winning.
But if they had given up because of how bad the first half went – if they had let themselves get dejected – then they would never have played that amazing second half.
‘Not a win, but still pretty good, I think,’ Jen says.
‘Yeah, really good.’ I nod in agreement.
I spot Maya smiling encouragingly at her team as they meet the Divas on the pitch, talking and laughing, instead of at each other’s throats for once, and I know that there’s still one thing left for me to do. Taking a deep breath and trying to swallow my pride, I make my way over there.
Maya’s gaze snaps to me as I approach her. There’s something behind her eyes that I can’t quite read.
‘That was a good game,’ I say, the words a little harder to get out than I thought they would be. ‘Your team played really well.’ I hold out my hand for Maya to shake.
She looks down at it, inspecting it like there might be something poisonous in my hands. She looks up at me again, studying my expression, before reaching her hand forward.
The touch of her warm skin makes a shiver run through me.
‘Thanks.’ Maya’s voice is barely a whisper. She clears her throat and says a little more loudly now, ‘Your team did a really good job as well. They’re good players.’
‘Thanks, and seriously, congrats.’ I withdraw my hands from hers, already missing her touch. There’s more I want to say to her – more I should say to her – but the words feel trapped inside my throat.
‘Dina, I know that things have been—’
‘It’s OK.’ I cut Maya off before she can start delving into it.
This is supposed to be Maya’s moment – her win.
All around her, her team is celebrating, while Maya is here with me, feeling like we still need to hash out the past. Maybe this is what Maya has been feeling like for a long time, for the past nine years.
We’ve been holding each other back, and I don’t want to do that anymore.
We both deserve better than that. ‘We don’t have to talk about any of that. We were both … It doesn’t matter.’
‘Really?’ Maya seems surprised, and I can’t exactly blame her. The last time I lost out on something, I broke up with her and gave up on football. This was definitely a far less dramatic reaction.
‘Yeah. You should go and celebrate with your team.’
‘Oh … yeah, I probably should.’ She glances behind her at the team for a moment, like she’d forgotten that they were even there, before turning back to me.
I wouldn’t blame her if she held the past over me, but there’s some part of me that aches for her to forgive and forget.
That wants us to move on and go back to what we were.
But I know that I’ve probably broken that too badly to even repair it. ‘I’ll see you around, I guess.’
‘See you.’
Then we’re both turning around, going our separate ways. And even though I feel my heart constrict at the idea of the match being over, about the fact that I have no reason to see Maya again, I keep going, and the distance between us grows with every step.