Page 173 of Rock Bottom Girl
It was cold, wet. The rain turned to sleet that sliced its way through my warm layers and chilled me to the bone.
The seconds ticked down on the game clock, and as every moment passed, I could feel the hope drain from my body.
We were down by two. Our offense couldn’t make a dent in the Bees’ defense.
I felt it in the pit of my stomach. I knew what a win felt like, and this wasn’t going to be one.
Twenty. Nineteen. Eighteen.The game clock plodded on, determined to deliver the loss.
Jake, his uncles, my parents, and Zinnia were in the stands. They were here to cheer me on. Instead, they were witnessing my failure.
I had wanted so badly for Zinnia to see me win. To finally prove to her that I wasn’t the eternal screw-up she knew me to be. I knew it was stupid. Pathetic. And I wondered if somehow my neediness had karmically ruined it for all of us.
The girls on the bench were standing up, shoulders slumped. I felt their disappointment like a wet blanket that was smothering me. It had been a long, cold, dirty game. And nothing we’d done had been enough to come out on top. It was a terrible end to the season.
Ten. Nine. Eight.
I’d let them down. I hadn’t been a good enough coach to get them farther. The guys team won their game yesterday and were headed to the semifinals. There was a pep rally scheduled for Monday.
I kept imagining Coach Vince’s smugness.
Those field lights felt like a spotlight of shame.
Three. Two. One.
The final buzzer sounded, and the Bees fans and bench erupted. The victors celebrated on the field while my girls hung their heads.
Libby and Ruby, arms around each other, limped off the field, wiping tears away, and I felt the guilt like a fist to the chest. I’d let them down. I’d set them up to fail.
I stared up at the scoreboard. 4-2 Bees. My watch vibrated, and I didn’t bother looking at it. I didn’t need a pity text or a pep talk. I wanted to wallow, to embrace the familiar darkness of failure.
“Well. It’s over,” Vicky sighed, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with me.
No more games. No more practices. No more bus rides and makeup tutorials. No more wins. My tenure as coach was officially over, and it had ended on a loss.
That scoreboard was my bright, glowing sign from the universe. The tears of my team were another.
Once again, I’d lost. Once again, my sister was there to witness it. And this time, I’d disappointed thirty-some teenagers.
“Let’s go shake hands, ladies,” Vicky said, taking charge when it was clear I was too busy wallowing. “Come on, Coach.”
Blindly, I slapped hands with the victors. Shook hands with the coaching staff and congratulated them on their victory. Their win was my loss. Their joy, my misery. I’d let so many people down. And proven so many people right. I was a loser. I’d always been one.
I was sinking into the shame of it, and I couldn’t pull myself out of it. It was all so familiar. Just like every layoff. Every breakup. I was always destined to get knocked down again.
Numbly, I greeted Jake and our families. Zinnia gave me a sad, frozen smile. Just like she’d always done when I screwed up. She never threw it in my face. Never brought attention to my failures.
Jake wrapped me up in his arms, and I wanted to just melt into his warmth. I wanted to give him my shame, my disappointment, and let him take it away from me.
“I’m so fucking proud of you, Mars,” he whispered in my ear.
But I didn’t believe him. I hadn’t done anything to be proud of. I’d disappointed my team.
The bus ride home was quiet except for the occasional sniffle and nose blowing. I wished that I had the words to make them feel better.Theyhadn’t failed. I’d failedthem.
When we got back to the high school parking lot, I lamely congratulated each girl as she got off the bus. “Great season.” “Good job.” “Way to play.”
But they could see right through me.
