On My Mind

A month later, Sidney found himself sitting in Pascal Dupuis’ kitchen, stiff after morning practice. He, Geno, and Flower descended upon the Dupuis household for lunch, and, after eating, sat together in a conversation that Sidney couldn’t bring himself to pay attention to.

He was trying half-heartedly to listen to his teammates as they rambled on about upcoming games, teams that had played each other, and the drills they had done that morning, but his mind was 3000 miles away—Seattle, where he knew Kaia was neck-deep in a final. She had left with her team two days before, and he had seen her off, watching her get on the bus after a quick kiss and a mumbled good luck on his part. He called her that morning; they talked briefly—five minutes, maybe—and even in the few moments they were talking the stress in her voice was evident. She was under a lot of pressure. He knew that. But—in the back of his mind—he also knew that he hadn’t fully understood the reality of what Kaia was doing until he found her pouring over statistics at his kitchen table, papers spread out in front of her.

She cried, too, tears that snaked down her cheeks the morning before she left—that was when a wave of realization had washed over him: that Kaia’s apparent nonchalance about the weeks of two-a-day practices, playoffs and tournaments had been her own way of trying not to go crazy. The team is relying on me, she had said, her voice shaky. If we lose... She thought that the loss—like their win from the year before—would fall on her shoulders. He felt awful for not understanding sooner, and still felt terrible, sitting next to Geno that afternoon.

Sidney checked his phone anxiously as he tried to focus on conversation. There were no texts or phone calls—and he knew that there would be. It was 11:35; she would be ten minutes from the end of the first half. They were playing one of the California state schools—Berkeley, he remembered Kaia saying, mumbling something about them being one of the best schools in the country. Pittsburgh was, too, but she wouldn’t listen to him when he said that.

“Dude.” Flower was standing in front of him, arms crossed over his chest. “Are you awake right now?”

“Yes,” Sid said indignantly, straightening in his seat. “Just distracted.”

“What is it?” Geno, who was sitting beside him, hit his shoulder with a fist. “Your head up in clouds.”

“Kaia.” He rubbed his hands over his face, preparing for a barrage of chirps from his teammates.

“Trouble in paradise?” Duper questioned, leaning back against the counter.

“They’ve been together for, like, a month,” Flower replied. “They’re not even in paradise yet.”

Sid shook his head with a dry smile. “We’re fine. She’s playing soccer—the national championships. Out in Oregon.”

“She play final right now?” Geno echoed, eyebrows drawn together. “They win?”

“I hope so,” he said quietly, looking again at his phone again. “I don’t know how they’re doing.”

“Soccer,” Duper said thoughtfully. “Great game.”

“Hockey better,” Geno commented, earning a laugh from his three teammates.

“She like hockey?” Duper cast a glance in the captain’s direction. “She’s the blonde, right, from the games?”

Sid nodded. “She doesn’t really get it. She tries to, though.”

“She’s cute,” Fleury said, adjusting the baseball hat on his head. “Teach her how to play, man.”

Sid looked off, considering the idea. “She actually doesn't know how to skate.”

“Teach,” Geno said, and then made a face that Sidney could only describe as suggestive. “Teach good, you know—”

“Thanks for the advice,” Sid muttered as Duper and Flower fell into laughter, rolling his eyes. “I think we’re all set.”

“Only think?” Geno was wearing a shit-eating grin. “You know—”

“She good in bed?” Flower was looking at him with his eyebrows raised, waiting.

“I walked myself into this,” Sidney groaned.

Duper—usually a voice of reason—was no help. “Look, man, none of us are virgins here, so—”

“It’s great,” Sidney said after a second, rolling his eyes at the hoots from the three guys with him. He knew better than to say anything—the rest of the team would know before practice even started the next day if he did. “She’s great, I’m great, everything’s great—”

“Well, she’s a good looking girl,” Duper said, casting Sid a sly smile.

Geno clapped him on the back, offering a mispronounced congratulations.

The conversation slowly picked up in a different area, leaving Sid to his thoughts. He stared down the clock, adding in ten minutes for their halftime and another forty five for the second half. By the time the game should have ended, he was driving home, his phone in his lap, hands tight on the steering wheel. She had promised to call him as soon as she could after the game.

His phone started ringing as he was getting out of his car, Kaia’s name scrolling across the screen.

“Hey,” he said hurriedly, closing the door behind him. “So—?”

He heard her take a long, deep breath, and there was quiet for a moment. When she spoke, her voice was shaky. “It didn’t happen.”

Sidney felt his heart drop into the pit of his stomach. “Oh, Kaia.”

“I don’t know,” she said quietly, her voice heavy. “I—I just—”

“You don’t need to explain it to me, Kai.” He shuffled further into the house, dropping his keys on the kitchen counter. “I get it.”

“We couldn’t do it,” she mumbled. “I couldn’t get where I needed to be, and—”

She took a deep breath, and Sidney could hear her start to cry, his own heart aching at the thought of her being so upset. He felt useless, standing stock still in the middle of his kitchen, thousands of miles from where she was.

“Kaia,” Sid began, “it’s alright.”

“We fucking lost,” she emitted. “It’s not alright.”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry, Kai.” He sighed. “I’m really sorry.”

“Me too.”

Sidney slid down into an armchair in the living room, listening to the quiet on the other line. “Are you back at the hotel?”

“Yeah,” she muttered, her voice thick with tears. “I fucking hate hotels.”

He knew that. “You’ll be home soon.”

When she spoke again, her voice was quiet. “I wish you were here.”

“So do I.” He looked up at the empty room around him, taking a slow, deep breath. “I miss you, Kai.”