Chapter 8
Ashlyn’s POV:
A week had gone by since my talk with Ali, and I was still really bummed. It had hurt so bad, to see her cry, and to know that I was the one who had caused it, sleeping with other women while her gut wrenched because she thought I didn’t love her. I hated how we had left things, her standing there crying, me walking out of the locker room crying. Since then it’s been a rough week at practice. She’s not totally avoiding me, but she’s been very cool towards me. We make it a point to say hi to each other, but other than what we need to say to each other on the field, that’s about the extent of our communication.
I was feeling restless, so I ended up going to a bar down the street from my place. It was relatively empty, except for a group of women who looked to be on a roller derby team, and two couples playing pool. I sat down at the far end of the bar and ordered a beer. I’m not much of a drinker, but tonight it felt like thinking and drinking would be the thing to do.
It’s funny how things happen sometimes. If only I had known. If only she had known. If only we had known. I’ve been spinning that in my head non-stop since our talk. When Ali told me that she had been in love with me, and that all she wanted was for me to love her back, my world just turned upside down. I couldn’t believe it. All that time, she loved me, I loved her, and neither one of us knew. Each of us thought that the other only wanted to be friends. How could we not have known? And now, since we both live here, could we give it a shot? Should we even give it a shot? It’s so funny that this is the closest we’ve ever lived to each other physically, and yet we’re so far apart emotionally. Fucking Murphy’s Law. They say timing is everything. Apparently my timing sucks. I don’t know. Maybe we should just be friends. Maybe too much has happened between us. I guess if it was supposed to be, it probably would have happened by now.
“I love your artwork”, I heard a voice say. Hearing that snapped me out of my thoughts. It also brought me back to Duisburg and Greta. I thought about how I had wanted Ali to step in and swoop me away, and I twitched involuntarily, but I recovered and looked up. In front of me was a dark-haired woman who looked to be in her mid-late twenties with a nice smile and tattoos scattered across her arms and shoulders. She was wearing a black tank top that said DC Demoncats. She looked down at my left arm and then looked up at me. “Where do you get your work done?” she asked me.
“Well, I just moved here, so I don’t have an artist here, but I’ve had work done everywhere I’ve lived”, I said.
“And where else have you lived?” she asked.
“Florida, North Carolina, New York, Europe, Chicago.”
“Well, if you need a recco for a good artist in town I can give you one.”
“Thank you”, I said.
““I’m Courtney. Courtney Shove”, she said, and offered her hand.
“Is that…that’s not your real name, is it?” I asked.
“No, it’s not”, she said and laughed. “We’re all on a roller derby team”, she motioned with her hand to her teammates, “and we all get to pick a rink name that we use when we play. Mine is a play on Courtney-“
“Love, yup, I get it”, I said, and then smiled. “It’s clever.”
“Thank you”, she said, then looked at me. “My real name is Ashley.”
“Ashley?” I asked.
“Yup, Ashley.” She looked at me and then moved a bit closer and bumped her shoulder against mine. “Ashlyn and Ashley”, she said and smiled.
“You know my name?”
“Of course I do. I know who you are, Ashlyn Harris.”
“I’m surprised you recognize me”, I said. I mean, I’m not exactly Tiger Woods.
“Star goalkeeper for the Spirit.” She looked at me and smiled to accentuate the compliment. I smiled back graciously. “Everyone should recognize you. I mean, it’s about time we got our due.” I assumed she meant women in sports. “Then again, maybe it’s better for me if that’s not the case. That way, I can have you all to myself”, she said and smiled. I smiled back at the compliment. I wasn’t really looking for anything. In fact, I hadn't really expected to even talk to anyone tonight, but I had to admit – after what I had been through this week, it was kind of nice to talk with someone who was clearly interested in me. She looked at me, and then she ran her finger down my tattoos, tracing a line from my elbow to my wrist.
“Ashley”, I said, “look, I-“
“Oh…wait”, she said and took her hand away. “Did I just overstep my bounds?” When I didn’t answer she said, “I’m sorry – you don’t want – oh my God - do you have…? You have a girlfriend. I-I-I’m so sorry…” she rambled and started to back away.
“No, Ashley”, I said and put up my hands. “I don’t have a girlfriend. I just…I’ve had a very rough week, and, well, I never thought I’d ever hear myself say this, but I just don’t want anything right now.” I looked at her and smiled apologetically.
Ashley smiled back. “I understand”, she said. She paused for a moment and then asked, “How about another drink?”, as she pointed to my almost-empty glass. “You can want one of those. It’s okay to want one of those, right?” I looked at her. I had come down here with the goal of just getting out of my apartment and having a drink alone, but her smile and upbeat attitude was winning me over. “No commitment, just another drink”, she said and then smiled even wider. “We can keep it light.” She looked at my arm again, and then at her arms, and then back at me. “We can talk about tattoos.”
I looked at her for a moment and then smiled slightly again and motioned for her to take the bar stool next to me.