Page 5 of Who's Playing You
I look over the faces of my students, no one dares speak as I see the wheels in their heads turning. “I’m calling it ‘tracking time’. Interpret as you wish, but consider the implication of time and the ripple effect of it when on time… or not. What happens when things are delayed - or early - what happens? Is it life altering? Take my ten minute tardiness today, did it make a difference to your lives - either small or large - did it impact anything else? Or nothing at all. Think about it creatively, how does it inspire you? The project will be due a week from today, see me after if you have questions, but in the interim, let’s continue with our lecture from Tuesday.”
With that I side-stepped my embarrassment and promised myself not to let it happen again. I only have a few more weeks of this summer course before having another few weeks utterly to myself and then the fall semester begins. I promised myself that I’d get my shit together this summer. Perhaps I’d “grow up” as Earl had said, at least enough to plug my phone in and set an alarm.
Well, if not today, but there’s always hope for tomorrow.
3
NICK SOBA
The Rage’s stadium and practice facilities are located just outside of New York City in Rockland County. It’s city enough, I suppose, but offers a quick and easy escape out of the chaos that is city life, especially the Big Apple’s chaotic city life. I’m used to this kind of setup though: Nik, Nic and I grew up in the suburbs of Philly, which was much like this - close enough to the city if we wanted, but far enough away that it felt more like a close-knit community and had nature all around.
I quickly learned that quite a few of my new teammates live in NYC and do the reverse commute on the daily, whereas others - mostly the guys with families - have opted for the more suburban and even rural life. But outside of NYC, driving anywhere from half an hour to an hour seems to be normal for a commute according to the locals here.
For me, it was the perfect scenario, which - again - was by design and the whole reason for coming here. Because Scottie lives and works just north of where the Rage are. She’s just across the border in Orange County, and I’m quite familiar with the area after my repeated trips to see her.
Well, when I saysee, I mean I literally saw her.
Because I would watch her.
But she was totally oblivious. Beautiful and oblivious to my presence.
Sure, some might consider it creepy AF or borderline stalking… alright, they’d probably think it full-on stalking. To that my response is:pshhh.Those people don’t know what the fuck they’re talking about. When it comes to a love like ours, you do what needs to be done.
And yes, it’s love.
This isn’t some infatuation or obsession, even though - sure - I’m obsessed with Scottie. I have been since I first met her when I was teetering on 15. She was way out of my league then and continues to be. She’s seven years my senior and was Natalie, my older sister’s best friend from college. When Natalie was a junior, Scottie started coming home with her during breaks, long weekends and over Christmas break, or whenever my sister decided she’d grace us with her presence. And to be honest, half-sister is a more accurate term.
My mom had my sister when she was in her early twenties, but she and Natalie’s dad were never together. So Nat had a bunch of trauma, anger and resentment as a result of those first few years of her life, and it was especially targeted toward me and our other sister Nadine, becauseourparents were together.
I was also the youngest, and the only boy, so to say that I was the golden child… well, you know. Of course I was the spoiled baby and I was a mama's boy. That didn’t help matters with Nat. It only made her hate me more.
So when Nat would opt to come home, it was always a crap-shoot whether it’d end up in a blow out, knock out fight or if she’d act like a normal human being. It was always better when Scottie came with her though.
I’m not sure what Scottie’s family dynamics were. That’s something I’ve yet to totally figure out. She’d never say, and Natnever shed any light on it. Especially not with me, because I was the person, it seemed, that she hated most in our house.
But I heard my mom ask her once on the phone when Scottie was supposed to come home with Nat for Christmas during their senior year. She was making dinner in the kitchen and had Nat on speaker, and mom was just checking that it wouldn’t upset Scottie’s family that she wasn’t going to be with them during the holidays. Nat replied in a clipped tone that Scottie didn’t have any family and that she and Scottie were each other’s family. I knew how much that stung my mom, and hit the intended target. Because once my mom got off the phone with her, she burst into tears.
Nat can be such a fucking bitch. I’d know, I’ve been on the receiving end of said bitchiness my entire life. So the fact that her best friend is the sweetest, most amazing person on the planet, I just don’t understand it. I don’t understand how Scottie puts up with her.
I had immediately walked in and hugged my mom, tried to console her, but that comment had cut her so deep.
Then when Nat and Scottie came home two weeks later, Nat acted like nothing was wrong, like she hadn’t just sliced my mom’s heart open. She had even acted halfway decent towards me.
I was sixteen at the time, and was already the biggest deal in our town, so with my already-inflated ego, I strutted around like the proud peacock I was. At that point I was already 6’2 and was pushing two hundred pounds. I was quickly filling out too. I worked hard to do so, because I didn’t want to look like some scrawny teenager to Scottie, or anyone else for that matter.
But mostly to Scottie.
Football was my life and I had every intention of becoming the best at it. Between that goal and the other goal of impressing Scottie, I worked tirelessly on my body and mind.
Scottie was always nice to me, not that we were able to interact too much with my sister there, monopolizing Scottie’s time and attention. Scottie never realized what a buffer she was between our family and my sister. But that Christmas was the best one I’d ever had. Scottie and I had even had a few hours to ourselves on Christmas Eve night where we just talked. Everyone had given up on the movie and gone to bed, but we stayed up, finished the movie and then talked about our dreams while the lights on the Christmas tree only helped to enhance her natural beauty.
Not that Scottie thought of me that way - or any way for that matter. To her I was Nat’s little brother, one whom she’d probably heard nothing but horror stories about.
But I worked tirelessly to gain any scraps of information about Scottie, and if I got an ounce of attention from her or stolen moments like on Christmas Eve, I’d live for that. Scottie was originally from a small no-name town in Michigan. She, apparently, didn’t have much or any family. Scottie was the most amazing artist. She was kind, beautiful, smart and above all, she was real. There was nothing fake about her and she was just so authenticallyher. Not only did she dream of making it as an artist, above all else Scottie wanted to help other artists too.
While my sister moved to Philly to start her career after she got her Bachelors, Scottie went to Stetson University in New York to work on her Masters. It was only a few hours’ drive from where we lived outside Philly, so to say I took a road trip or two… well, you can’t blame a guy.
To my great dismay, a few months into Scottie’s first semester, I saw her walking around the little town where Stetson U was with some older guy. When he kissed her, I saw red.
