Page 23 of The Keeper
Mack and Jeremy were invited to the same U-18 National Team camp when they were in high school. I click quickly to Jeremy’s FaceBook page. He and Mack definitely know each other, and there are at least a dozen photos of them together over the past few years, looking pretty friendly, like more than just acquaintances.
How has this never been on my radar? Why did it never occur to me that Jeremy and Mack were friends? I met him at Jer’s party.
I click to Mack’s FaceBook page and begin looking through his pictures. His profile picture is a shot of him and sweet little Anna, but he has uber-intense privacy settings. The handful of visible photos are of him and his sister, a man I am assuming is Amy’s husband Kevin, and Anna.
But when I go back to the page where I searched his name, I see the link to his Facebook fan page. It’s fairly outdated, since Mack hasn’t been in the spotlight much, at least to my knowledge, in the past few years. But when I click on photos, I feel like I’m looking at a completely different Mack.
I don’t even bother studying the images as I scroll through photo after photo of Mack and a gaggle of girls. I can’t help but notice that the majority of girls look like the stripper wannabes from Jer’s party. I feel like I’m looking at a bang book, where his conquests upload photos once they’d gotten what they wanted.
He looks different, too. Rougher. Darker. His eyes are always hooded and brooding, his face remaining in that same lifeless expression with no hint of happiness or smile.
And then I get to photos I can tell are of Mack pre-accident. When his career was still bright in front of him. When his future still had promise. When he wasn’t stuck watching his teammates play from the sidelines.Before. His eyes light and excited, his smile present in every photo.
Suddenly it occurs to me that Jeremymustknow about the job. But does he know that Mack asked me out? I quickly fire off a text to him.
Me: Did you hear that Andy McIntosh is our new coach?
Jeremy: He got the job? Sweet! He’s great, Rach. You’re gonna love him
Me: What does that mean? Did you know he was applying?
Jeremy: He didn’t apply. I recommended him to Coach J
Me: I didn’t realize a coach could get hired on just a recommendation
Jeremy: Ya. Coach J loves me
I forgot that Coach Johnson played on the Glendale team with Jeremy. It would make sense for him to take Jer’s recommendation so seriously.
Jeremy: We still on for MM tonight?
Mexican Mondays. Our tradition. When I was a freshman in college, we met at the quad for lunch. Once Jeremy went pro, he turned it into Mexican Mondays and an opportunity to treat my poor ass to dinner. Even with all of the craziness of his life as a pro-athlete, he still tries really hard to be available every Monday if he isn’t traveling so we can catch up and bitch and moan about how terrible his fabulous life is.
Me: Absolutely. See you there
I spend the next hour staring out the window of the conference room, and half-heartedly listening to Piper and Ruth-Ann gossiping about Mack before moving on to talk about other male pro players they think are ‘totally hot’.
When I finally hear Coach Johnson call my name, my stomach drops. I stand up slowly and head out of the banquet room, then down the hall to Coach Walker’s old office. Mack’s new office.
Hisoffice.
Where he will work from as mycoach.
The open door at the end of the hall looms in front of me, and I feel like I’m moving in slow motion as a part of some horrible Hallmark movie. When I finally reach the door and take a step in, Mack looks up from his clipboard, where he’s taking notes. The professional smile on his face quickly shifts, with something a little more heated passing through his eyes. I stand immobile at the door, soaking that look in for the last time.
He stands, cocking his head a little to the side. “RJ, what are you…” but he stops talking when I shake my head quickly.
Coach Johnson is behind me, standing at the door with a smile on his face.
“Alright, Coach. This is our starting goalkeeper, Rachel Jameson. I’ll leave you to it and be back with Desiree in a few.” And then he closes the door, leaving Mack and I to stand and stare at each other.
This can’t be happening. I mean, logically, I know it’s happening. I can see it happening. I know that the man who was at my door on Saturday night is the same man in front of me. But at the same time, I don’t want to let myself believe it. Because if I do, that means that the universe is actively working against my happiness.
Mack closes his eyes and squeezes the bridge of his nose. Without looking at me, he says, “You’re Jeremy’s little sister.”
“Yes.” My voice is a whisper.
“You’re the goalie on the team I’m coaching.”
