'It went fine.'
'Is that right?'
'Yeah, it is. Now let's go. I'm going to be late. I don't want Eric to worry.' She started toward the living room. I stepped in front of her.
'It's okay for me to worry, but not Eric?'
'Come down to the game. We can talk there.'
'No.'
'Oh, come on, it'll be fun,' she said. 'You need some fun in your life.'
'I'd like to eat my dinner without getting indigestion. That would be fun.'
'Then don't rush and come over after you eat. It's down the street.'
'I know where the park is.'
'Good. I'll see you in half an hour.' She pushed past me and left.
Apparently, if I was going to get any information out of my sister, I'd have to do it at the soccer game. Nevertheless, I took my sweet time eating dinner, did the dishes, and cleaned the kitchen before I left. The park was a quarter mile from my house and I chose to walk. Despite my stalling, the game was still in full swing when I got there.
I had no trouble finding Juliet. She was the loudest of the assembled fans, shouting instructions to the players and whistling shrilly. The others watching the game appeared to be friends and family of the players, and seemed to be using the game as an excuse to visit. This was more a party than a sports event. Juliet couldn't have been more at home. An opportunity for a private conversation didn't look too promising. I could've stayed home, had a glass of wine to calm my nerves, and admired my garden. Well, she wasn't going to slip by me that easily. I'd get her later. I turned around and stared home.
'Thea! Theeeeaaa!'
I stopped, winced, and glanced over my shoulder. Juliet waved both arms like she was flagging down a search plane.
'Over here, I'm over here!'
I gave up.
I knew nothing about soccer. My acquaintance with spectator sports was limited to high school football and a little of the same of the college variety. I could tell there were two teams on the field because they wore different colored jerseys. Great.
'Is that all they do?' I asked Juliet. 'Run relentlessly up and down the field trying to kick that ball into a net?'
'Pretty much. Except – see that guy with the big mitt on his hand at the end of the field? No, that's the ref. Jeez, Thea, he doesn't have anything on his hands. The other guy in front of the net who's just standing around? Yeah, him. He tries to keep the ball out of the net.'
'Oh. He doesn't get much exercise.' About that time he launched himself through the air and the soccer ball slammed into his chest. I flinched. 'I take that back. It all looks awfully intense.'
It also looked exhausting. Adult males deliver a frightening amount of focused energy into their game – more so than their younger counterparts. All the running, shouting, and grunting when bodies collide bears an unsettling resemblance to a battlefield. Occasionally, a referee blew his whistle and activity ebbed, then geared up again.
'Oh! Goal! Somebody made a goal!' I cheered and Juliet punched my shoulder.
'Wrong team. Jeez, Thea, pay attention.'
'Oh, sorry.'
'See number thirty-eight in the green jersey? That's Eric. Look at him run. Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?' She sighed and watched, her mouth partly opened. I stuck my elbow in her side nudging her back into speech. 'Yeah… see his shirt? 'Fuentes' is on the back, too, but it's kind of covered with dirt.'
I tried to pay closer attention. A few players looked familiar, but they milled around too much for me to be sure. Besides, they all looked the same in their jerseys and shorts. I tried to follow Eric's progress throughout the remainder of the game. He seemed to be the team captain – at least he was the one on his team yelling a stream of incomprehensible orders as he ran. He looked angry. That alarmed me. Eric was generally so laid back.
'Aren't things going well?' I asked Juliet in a whisper.
'No, they're good, why?' She answered me without taking her eyes off the action.
'Eric looks mad.'
'Na, he's just into the game. The other team's pretty good. They're so into it. Raging testosterone – OFFSIDES!'
Talk about being 'into' the game. My ears rang from Juliet's shrieking. But when Eric made an assist that resulted in a goal for his team, I cheered as wildly as everyone else.
The game ended with Eric's team winning by one point. The elated players, soaked in sweat and decorated in grass stains and dirt, whooped and pounded each other with enthusiasm as they left the field. As they came in our direction I recognized a clerk from the 7-Eleven down the street and one of the young men who worked at the feed store. Eric walked off the field toward us with the player who had made the goal. With a lurch my heart rate shot into overdrive. The player was Paul.
Other team members walked or jogged by, slapping Paul or Eric on the back and saying something about the winning goal, which tended toward good if he was from their team, or a good-natured insult if he was from the losing team.
'Way to go, Doc.' A lanky man gave Paul a resounding slap on the back. 'Bend it like Beckham, eh?' The copious amount of blood covering the front of the man's jersey dragged my gaze away from Paul.
'You're such a wimp,' Juliet said at my look of horror. 'That guy ran his nose into some other guy's elbow right before you came.'
'Hey, Thea.' Mark Wong, my dentist, hailed me. 'I didn't know you were a fan.'
'I've been recruited,' I said, meaning Juliet had taken it upon herself to expand my horizons. Mark glanced toward Paul.
'Oh.' He smiled.
'I didn't know you played,' I said.
'Three times a week,' he said, and slapped his stomach. 'Keeps the fat off.' He raised a hand in farewell and continued toward his waiting family.
Eric and Paul reached us and Juliet threw her arms around her sweaty hero.
'Way to go, guys!' she said. 'Killer game!'
Both men had the sated look of victors coming home from battle. Paul's gaze locked with mine and my heart rate geared up another few notches.
'Hi,' he said, smiling.
'Hi.' I smiled back. 'Doc? You're a doctor?'
'PhD,' he confirmed.
'I guess I should have realized, I mean, since you teach.' The old grad school caste-system reared it Machiavellian head. I remembered it well, having only a lowly master's degree. Yet, here he was, communing with real people as if he was one of us.
Neither of us looked away despite the lack of conversation.
From somewhere else Jorge strolled up and pounded Paul on the back. Paul blinked and looked at him.
'Hey man, good game… for an old guy who cheats,' he said and laughed.
'It's not too hard to beat a bunch of posers,' Paul countered, grinning. 'It might be worth your while to learn how to kick the ball.'
Jorge feigned an affronted stance and took a wide swing that Paul easily ducked.
'How come you aren't on the same team as Eric?' I asked. Jorge wore the opposing team's colors. 'You do work together, after all.'
'Our schedules are too different,' Jorge responded. 'We can't get to the same practices.'
'Why don't you give Thea a ride home?' Juliet asked Eric. Still holding fast to his hand, she turned to me. 'He's giving everyone else a ride. He can drop you off.'
