Sway

The first person who left did it with a slammed door, hastily-packed bags in the back of his old truck — the one that smelled like the end of soccer practice and early morning trips to the beach when she was small and had him print tropical flowers across her board. That departure felt like an earthquake. The rumbling started and tossed her around and changed her world.

The second departure was done in a whirlwind — not of nature, but of burning drinks and thick smoke and an anger so pure and intense she wondered how he had kept it all inside for so long. Maybe the whirlwind was of his nature and, therefore, her nature. Sure that he was gone, she stayed up late, wondering if that was how she would leave, too.

The third departure was not the last and she expected that there would surely be more to come. But it did hurt the most, coming as it did as a steady fading away. First, it was one glass, and then another, and then it was midmorning spent buried under the covers, too far gone to ever get back up. Never remembering if it was a school day or a game day or if she had practice or even caring when she stayed out with friends or quit her softball team or skipped school to skateboard.

It was the most painful departure because, in a way, she was still there. Ashlyn could see her physically in the crook of the armchair, in the kitchen digging through the cupboards, in the bathroom popping Aspirin. But she wasn’t really there — not like Ashlyn knew her.

When Ashlyn herself departed, it was with a car full of backpacks and boxes and duffle bags with the intention of never seeing that house again. And it was not for what had left the house, but for what remained and the twisted mirror it created, a damned warning of her future. And if that’s what her future looked like, she was going to run far, far away.

Coming back home hadn’t been in the cards, but Ali had convinced her and she had listened and it ended up better than she’d ever thought it could be. Where cynicism had grown like mold in a dark cupboard, new hope was breaking through. Her vision of the future was different because of Ali — she had someone in her life who loved her and kept her head steadily above the water and she now had her family, too.

After her departure, Ashlyn’s vision of the future changed and, once again, it was because of Ali.

Ashlyn didn’t operate on fearlessness per say, but the immense power that not giving a shit afforded her. That, coupled with anger, adrenaline, and the muscle she had gained while working out tirelessly to numb the pain she felt made for a player that was more than ready to tackle everything the Philadelphia Independence had to throw at her during the WPS Championship Final.

To say that she was angry was an understatement — perhaps the understatement of the year. Her anger fueled her more than food ever could. As she threw herself around the box, saving shot after shot with skill, she didn’t quite care what happened to her or her body. It wasn’t fearlessness; that implied bravery. She just had nothing to lose anymore.

As she stopped the final penalty, diving her way into a win for her team, Ashlyn ran around the field, living off of the roaring of the crowd and the roaring in her head of everyone who’d ever told her she wasn’t good enough. Her trainers who told her she couldn’t play. Her coaches that benched her. Analysts that wondered if she’d ever be as good as she was as a kid. Pia, who cut her from the roster. Ali Krieger, who broke her heart.

Fuck them, Ashlyn thought as she kissed the beautiful silver trophy, Whitney by her side. This time, I won.

Music thumped loudly in her ears under the glow of strings of lights that wound through the palm trees and across the wood railings. Ashlyn wove through the crowd with a drink in hand. Ever since Ali had left, she had felt as though something integral inside of her was missing. She couldn’t quite place what it was that could help put her together, but damned if she wasn’t going to try. Step one was to get rip-roaring drunk.

The noise of the people, the action and lights around her, all made her somehow feel lonelier. She was floating amongst the crowds as people stopped to congratulate her, pulled her over with them to do a shot, sent coy looks her way. She was reminded of the parties at UNC, all thumping bass and heat and cool jungle juice and cheap beer. But something felt inexplicably different; like she could disappear into the wind right then and not a soul would care.

As Ashlyn matched the gaze of a girl who had been looking at her for most of the night, she wondered if she was going backwards and, if she was, whether she would keep going backwards until she could never get herself righted again. She drained the rest of the red solo cup in her hand and tossed it in the trash as she strode up to the girl. Slim and petite with hair the color auburn that so obviously came from a bottle, Ashlyn realized she was nothing like her type.

“Hey,” the girl said as Ashlyn approached her. She was leaned back against the walkway railing, back to the ocean. Her shirt was tight and low-cut and Ashlyn couldn’t help but look.

“Hey,” she replied. She hesitated. The lines normally rolled off of her tongue in these situations but, looking at the girl, she felt so entirely off of her game and out of her depth. It all felt so wrong.

They headed towards the house, far away from the beach and the waves until Ashlyn couldn’t hear the movement of the water at all. Her heart pounded and she downed another drink just to continue. When she woke up the next morning, the emptiness in her chest weighed her down into the pillows. Her head pounded. She didn’t want to cry, but she did anyway.

Ashlyn didn’t exactly know how Abby found out about her and Ali breaking up, but she received a phone call from the forward congratulating her on the win and her Goalkeeper of the Year award and inviting her on a road trip with her and Sarah — Ali’s name wasn’t even mentioned. Ashlyn jumped at the chance and immediately said yes. After the celebrations had started to wind down, she was left with quiet and too much time to think about Ali and wonder where she was or what she was doing; whether she had already gone back to Germany.

“What exactly happened between you and Ali?” Abby asked one night. Sarah was out getting snacks and other essentials from CVS while Ashlyn and Abby kept Kingston company in the car. Ashlyn had taken to the wrinkly lunk of a dog from their first meeting over a year ago. He was sitting and slobbering in Ashlyn’s lap as she ran her hands down his rolls of skin, jiggling them.

“Um…” Ashlyn pretended to be interested in Kingston, moving his limbs so that his weight shifted across her legs, wiping a bit of drool from her thigh. “Well, she decided that she couldn’t deal with the pressure of people maybe finding out and she bailed,” Ashlyn said simply. “I thought you knew.”

Abby shook her head. “HAO called and let me know Ali had told her that you guys had broken up, but that was all.” Ashlyn bit her lip. So Ali was still telling HAO everything. She wondered if HAO thought she was the victim or if Ali was in the right. “She said Ali was crying a lot, if that helps at all.”

Ashlyn’s breath quickened as she tried to fight off the tears again. She liked to think she hadn’t been a complete disaster post-breakup. She’d channeled most of that pain into her training regimen. Winning the WPS Championship had helped a little. And Whitney had been there to vent to and drink with. Still, she couldn’t help but get upset at the mere mention of Ali.

“No, it doesn’t,” she replied sharply. “I don’t want…Look, I’m not going to feel better because Ali is upset, too.”

“I think what HAO was trying to say is that she still cares about you. That wasn’t the reason things didn’t work out.”

“Of course I know that!” Ashlyn shot back. She took a breath, taking her hands off of Kingston to press her fingertips into her temples. “That’s why I’m so…That’s why it sucks so much.”

That had always been the problem, really. Even before everything had blown up that afternoon in the middle of Ashlyn and Whitney’s apartment, it had never been a question of whether Ali cared for Ashlyn. Ashlyn even thought Ali might’ve slipped up that day and, in some backhanded way, told her she loved her. That was always a given between the two of them. What was less certain was Ali’s self-love.

It’s like this crawling on my skin.

I have to be this person for the team.

I just want to be normal.

Kingston whined and sat up, moving his slobbery head to lick at Ashlyn’s chin and hands. Ashlyn looked at him sadly before pushing him away. “Kingston, no,” she said. His eyes looked hurt as well and Ashlyn felt even worse. It wasn’t his fault; he was only trying to help her in the way he knew how.

For Ashlyn, the road trip was a much-needed escape from reality. The shenanigans they all pulled together served as a distraction for her. She was re-learning everything. How to laugh without thinking of Ali. How to smile and be entirely genuine about it. How to forget about Ali slowly.

She had made good progress by the time she made it back to Satellite Beach in early October, but as soon as she stopped by her mom’s house, she started to go downhill again. Maybe it was all the memories of lonely nights staring up at the darkest corners of her bedroom ceiling, watching the shadows morph with the rising moon and the flash of cars’ headlights through her window. She had had so many of those nights, up late wondering if the rustling from the other room was her mom getting up for another glass, wondering if her brother was okay, wondering if it was even worth going to school the next morning since she hadn’t done her homework anyway.

Ashlyn was drowning again in her dream. Just the same as always, the wave snuck up on her, the girl on the beach waved in warning, and she was sucked under. She kicked out and sputtered against the salty water that invaded her nose and mouth, fighting the tide that was pulling her further away from the shore. This time, though, she was able to break free. Coughing, throat and eyes burning from the salt, her tired body could do little more than dog paddle to the shore. She collapsed onto her hands and knees in the shallow water, and then dragged herself onto the beach.

Looking around, she got to her feet unsteadily and walked further up the beach. The dry sand crunched under her feet. She was looking for something, but she wasn’t sure what. Then it hit her. The girl. She searched the beach, but the expanse of sand was empty and silent but for the crashing of the water behind her. Further up, tall grass waved from atop shallow dunes. But there was nothing else to be seen.

She called out again and again, but there was no one to hear her. Behind her, the sea was encroaching up the beach, further than it ever should have. She spun around, looking for any sort of human life, any slight noise, the glint of a boat in the distance. There was nothing and no one. The girl was not there to save her anymore and the water was up to her knees now.

“This shouldn’t be happening,” she muttered to herself, staring at the water. The sand beneath her feet shifted and she lost her balance, falling backwards into the waves. “This shouldn’t be happening.”

When she woke up, gasping for breath like a fish out of water, she was alone in her room. She shivered at the loneliness, but part of her was glad. She had been hooking up with a lot of girls since the party, but they were just that — hook-ups. Ashlyn realized she wouldn’t have known how to act if she really had woken up beside any of them. Still, she convinced herself that that sort of lifestyle was what she wanted. The less emotions involved, the better. If there was no real relationship to begin with, Ashlyn couldn’t be abandoned again.

“Are you doing alright?” Ashlyn’s mom asked. Ashlyn was sitting at the kitchen table, eating her lunch, her mother across the table from her. “After the Final, you kind of disappeared.”

“I’m fine. It doesn’t matter,” Ashlyn brushed her off quickly. She was surprised with how quickly the anger had risen inside of her at her mom’s question. She was one to talk about disappearances, Ashlyn thought bitterly. Though their relationship had improved with their reconnection, Ashlyn still couldn’t shake the bitterness and resentment she held inside of her. It was all still clinging there in the darkest parts of her and she didn’t know how, let alone have the energy, to get it out.

“Is it a girl?”

“Look, mom, you don’t get to tune out for almost eight years of my life and then swoop in like you understand what I’m going through and can fix anything,” Ashlyn said. She picked up her empty plate and walked it to the sink. “You can’t. You don’t have any clue what my life has been like.”

“I’m trying, Ashlyn,” her mother said, getting up from the table and holding out her hands. “I want to make this work. I’m trying.” Ashlyn pushed past her and out the kitchen door, deriving a twisted sort of pleasure from watching her distress.

In a way, it was punishment for all the hurt she had caused Ashlyn as a teenager. Part of her just wanted to yell, “Why couldn’t you be this concerned when I was a kid? Why couldn’t I grow up in a normal family?” In a way, it was a power trip. Ali had forced Ashlyn’s hand, making her ache inside all the time. Ashlyn could do the same; could hold control over another being’s emotions just as easily. And so she did.

She still couldn’t win in the weird game she was playing with herself, twisting others’ emotions each time her’s were pulled apart and torn. It was exhausting to feel so sad all the time. It was exhausting because she was putting everything she had into numbing her body and mind with training and then what little was left in her could hardly move for the crushing weight of it all inside of her. Even nights she mustered enough strength to go out and have a good time with her friends, she always came back worn out for all the wrong reasons. Even with a girl, she was worn out.

“What do I do?” Ashlyn asked her grandmother one night. She hated how hopeless she sounded, sitting on the back porch with her, crying because that was a new regular pastime for her. In a way, it wasn’t even about Ali anymore. She was just sad, simple as, and she couldn’t bring herself out of it.

“What I’ve learned over the years, sweet pea, is that you’ve got to respect yourself. I’ve seen so much, honey, and now I know that is the one thing you must learn how to do in order to be happy. Your dad got into some bad stuff, didn’t take care of his body. Same with your mom, and same with your brother. They haven’t treated themselves how they should. And same with you, now.”

“At some point,” she said, “you have to look at yourself and say ‘I have to take better care of myself’ and you’ve got to work at it. It’s really hard, Ashlyn, but it’s something you need to do.”

There were some things that were relatively easy to change. Ashlyn knew she had to take care of her body physically. She ate pretty healthy because she had to to be a good athlete. She exercised regularly and her trainer was pleased to see that she was beginning to ease off constantly pushing for more sessions, harder sessions, longer sessions always.

She pulled out her board again and let herself get lost in the smell of brine in the morning and the feel of the rising sun at her back. She let sand crunch between her toes. She let her sneakers push off from the pavement as she listened to the familiar clack-clack of the skateboard over the asphalt.

There were other things that were more difficult. It wasn’t difficult to tell what she needed in her life. Good food. Exercise. A place to live. Friends. Family. It was more difficult for her to procure some things than others. Her family was broken and it had been for quite some time, but that didn’t mean that she needed to be an island away from everyone, especially when there was someone ready and waiting for her to just open that door.

Ashlyn fingered the handle on the front door of her old home for a long moment before she pushed it open and walked inside, calling out to her mother who emerged from the kitchen, drying her hands on an old towel.

“Ashlyn,” she greeted happily. Ashlyn looked at her and then pulled her into a hug. Her mom made a noise of surprise and joy before patting her on the back.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” Ashlyn said as she pulled away. “And I’m sorry I didn’t come back.”

“You’re fine,” her mom replied, her smile a little watery. She patted Ashlyn’s cheek. “We’re still working things out together and that’s okay.”

“I’m going to try harder,” Ashlyn promised. And she felt so much lighter.

In another room that was strange to her, Ashlyn was pushed down onto the bed. The hand on her chest was small and delicate, just like the rest of the body that hovered over her. Originally, the differences between her and Ali had been comforting. She was supposed to be a distraction, after all, not a reminder. Now that they were there, in this girl’s room, she observed them like a weird presentation in comparison and contrast.

The girl, who’s name Ashlyn could barely remember, started to climb over her, but Ashlyn quickly grabbed her around the waist and flipped their positions. Beneath her, the girl’s mouth opened in a breathy smile, her eyes dark. Ashlyn’s face was steely. She moved the girl further up the bed, completely in control.

As she sat back on her heels to take her shirt off, Ashlyn looked down at her and, not for the first time over the course of her trysts and lays, wondered what exactly she was doing. Having fun, she told herself. She’s just a distraction. This is just stress-relief. It’s just pleasure, and that’s fine. She was entitled to this. It was the same series of things she’d told herself in college when she brought home girl after girl, not much caring who they were.

It’s fun, she’d say as she used one to get over a loss. It’s fine to make myself feel good, she’d say as she used another couple to forget about the pain in her knee, to forget about the save she’d missed, to forget about the drunken message her brother had left her. Each time, she would get what she wanted, but she would always be left with a hollow feeling inside.

“What is it?”

“Nothing,” Ashlyn said quickly, throwing her shirt off the side of her bed. She used her.

Her birthday had started off fine. She had a small party with her close friends from Satellite Beach and her family. Her brother was there with a few of his friends as well and everyone was more than glad to deliver her twenty-six (plus one for good luck) birthday whacks and they did so with painful enthusiasm. They laughed and played games and ate plenty of food late into the night until finally they decided to pack up and head in.

Ashlyn and Chris drove home with their mom and headed to their old rooms to crash. It was there that Ashlyn found another present — a tweet from Ali Krieger. It was a simple ‘Happy Birthday’ tweet directed at her, but Ashlyn stared at it for minutes on end, simply trying to comprehend why.

She’d unfollowed Ali on social media in order to avoid checking up on what she was doing. It was part of her plan to treat herself better. She didn’t need to know what Ali was doing or who she was seeing. Ali had unfollowed her back. They hadn’t spoken to each other since August. Ashlyn was up half the night trying to understand Ali’s motives for that simple tweet. Once again, Ali was entirely in control of Ashlyn’s emotions and she hated her for it.

After the tweet, there had been a couple phone calls, spaced weeks apart. Each time, Ashlyn had stared at the caller ID on her phone, listening to each ring, counting them. And then the phone would go silent and there would be no message. Ashlyn didn’t know what Ali was doing, but she was reminded of her mom’s reconciliatory phone call the previous year. Ashlyn heard Ali’s words again — how she’d regret it if she didn’t pick up the phone and talk to her mom — but she still couldn’t bring herself to answer Ali or call her back. She had decided that she wasn’t going to leave herself open to that sort of heartbreak again.

She finally had to face Ali for the first time since they’d left things with slamming doors and intractable statements back in August at the December training camp in Carson, California. From what little information her other teammates had supplied her with, Ali had been pretty off the radar with all of them. Ashlyn would always brush off their updates, but she was secretly glad of them. Curiosity had struck her and hadn’t let her go since her birthday.

“How do you want to deal with this?” Ashlyn had never been more relieved to get Whitney as her roommate. Seeing her name on the line across from hers as she checked into the hotel had almost made her weep with relief. She knew that, with Whitney there to keep her sane, this camp might not be the worst.

“I think we’ll just try to coexist,” Ashlyn said. Even as the words left her mouth she knew she was bullshitting herself. Why would it ever be that simple? “We don't necessarily need to talk. She can have her space and I can have mine.”

“Right,” Whitney said, drawing the word out to fill it with sarcasm. “Are you sure it’s going to be that easy?”

“No,” Ashlyn replied. “But I’m hoping she doesn’t want to try anything. I still don’t know if I can be her friend.”

She thought back to the birthday tweet, which she had left unanswered. Was that Ali’s attempt at reconnecting? Was that her reaching out to Ashlyn, or was she merely being polite? Either way, Ashlyn had no idea how to respond to that. Despite the deal they had made when they first met, she and Ali had hardly been friends before the charge between them became too much. She didn’t know how to be friends with Ali and, as far as she knew, Ali didn’t know how to be friends with her either.