Field of Schemes (28 page)

The phone rang as I was reading the email. “Did y’get Mimi’s latest?” Dave asked before he even said hello. I loved our familiarity.

“Hang on,” I told him, tiptoeing to Rachel’s bedroom to make sure she was still asleep. One of the things I loved about soccer was that it completely cured Rachel’s insomnia. I closed the bedroom door with my snoring daughter behind it, and clutched the phone receiver to my ear. “I know, she’s a complete crackpot, isn’t she?” Remembering his vocation, I urged Dave not to tell me that Mimi was simply misunderstood.

“No, she’s wacky. I love all the exclamation points in her notes. That’s diagnosable, you know?”

“Really?”

“Oh yes, it’s a little-known condition, but a very serious one.”

“Sad,” I teased. “Poor thing.”

“Did Rachel tell you about her conversation with Gunther?” Dave asked.

“No,” I said, surprised that she hadn’t mentioned every detail of her life with me.

“I overheard him telling her that she made him proud of his decision to take her on the team,” Dave reported. Then, putting on his best German accent, Dave imitated our coach. “Soccer was my salivation when I was a boy.”

“His
salivation
?” I asked, laughing.

“I shouldn’t make fun of the guy,” Dave said. “He was really being very sweet with Rachel, very big brotherly.”

I loved my gossipy phone conversations with Dave, but dreaded telling him that I had to cancel our date because Kathy needed help with the baby. On the drive home from the tournament, I called and asked when the best time was to come and give her a hand. She snapped, “Now.”

“How ’bout tomorrow?” I suggested, momentarily forgetting about my plans with Dave.

I knew I had to tell Dave about needing to take care of my sister, but decided to put it off for a few more minutes. The last time I canceled, he was a bit pouty. I hoped that as a therapist, he’d be more understanding.

I returned to my conversation with Dave. “What about that fight she picked over the jersey colors?”

“Hey, that’s important stuff,” Dave joked. “I hate to say she’s right about anything, but the girls
are
getting chubby, don’t y’think?”

“I’d like to stay in denial about it.”

Dave laughed. “Good for you. So, tomorrow night—” He paused for me to continue. When I didn’t, he said, “You’re canceling again, aren’t you?”

“Dave, I’m sorry. My sister has post-partum depression and she really needs me! She works for an insensitive beast who doesn’t give her an ounce of compassion.”

“You said she works for your mother,” Dave said.

“Exactly.” Thankfully, he laughed before telling me that he was beginning to take this personally. “Please don’t. It’s just bad timing.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Dave said.

We moved back into a conversation about the weekend’s games, highlighting all of the things our daughters did brilliantly. In the championship game, Katie deflected a shot on goal with her head! She leapt into the air and bounced the shot off her forehead, blocking its path to the net. Cayenne was about to pick up the ball when an opposing player kicked it to her teammate in the center. When she shot the ball, everyone had accepted that the other team was going to score. The parents on the opposite sideline had already begun cheering when Katie jumped eleven feet in the air (wearing a cape and red boots that shot fire) and blocked the shot.

The only downside of winning tournaments was that the finals were always scheduled for late in the afternoon, which meant Dick had the whole day to get sauced. At the last tournament, he actually passed out on a grassy patch near a playground, despite the fact that a local rock band blasted Alice Cooper’s “School’s Out” at earth-shaking volume. I could barely hear Loud Bobby when Boiling Lead played its repertoire of heavy metal favorites and its original, “Rodent Pie.” I loved watching people’s facial expressions transform as they made out the words. The folks who were eating burgers were the best. “You taste so sweet, you make me wanna die,” the mullet-headed singer screeched. “Lovin’ you’s like eating rodent pie.”

“Yeah, exciting game,” Dave said. “Listen, Claire, I’ll understand if you’re not ready to start dating again.”

“I
am
ready!” I protested a bit too emphatically. “It’s been a year and a half.”
Five hundred thirty-four days to be exact.

“It’s really not an issue of time,” Dave said, switching into a more professional tone.

“Let’s reschedule right now,” I insisted. I knew that Dave was exactly the kind of man I needed in my life and that my heart would eventually catch up with my head. In the meantime, I didn’t want to let him slip away.

The next morning, the electronic debate over Violet’s future with the team began.

Dear Team,

Violet is part of our team and, as such, I feel it is callous to discuss replacing her. We bring our children to organized sports not only for the physical benefits, but to teach them the value of fairness, camaraderie and unity. I would personally feel very hurt if our team voted to abandon Violet. Let us honor her parents’ request to hold her spot on the team. There is no need to fracture the team like this. It will dampen our spirit and make the girls feel insecure about their own place on the team. We mustn’t send any child the message that he or she is expendable. Hence, my vote is no.

Respectfully,
Nancy and Roger Gilman

--------------------

Hi Everyone,

I like to remain on the sidelines of the soccer team politics, but I really need to speak up on this one. Violet is a part of our team and her parents are asking us to hold her spot. We have 14 healthy girls. There is absolutely no need to replace her. I am in agreement with Nancy.

Jennifer

--------------------

All right, I know emotions can get hot when we’re talking about the team so let me remind everyone that what we should be thinking of is what is best for the team for the season and State Cup. Violet turned down other clubs to play for Kix, and if we don’t stick by her when her chips are down Ray’s gonna be pretty pissed and take her somewhere else once her knee’s better. Why make an enemy when we don’t have to? When she’s back she’ll remember how loyal we were and stick by us when recruiters start scouting her – which they will, believe you me. Bottom line here is less players means more field time. Sticking by Violet is smart for now and our future here. What’s the problem?

Your Friend,
Dick

Representing the Jelineks and Richards.

--------------------

Bob here. I’m with Dick. Why alienize Violet when she might have a lot of good shots left in that foot? You see what I’m saying? If this Sissy sucked at tryouts, she sucks now. End of story.

--------------------

MEMORANDUM

TO: The Team

FROM: Mimi

DATE: June 22

RE:Re: We were in the lowest bracket again!!!!

So many misconceptions to correct, I’m not even sure where to begin! I’m not talking about replacing Violet permanently! Of course she’s welcome to join us again if and when her knee heals! Why pass up a star like Sissy for the season?!

Let’s talk about fitness training! When I played in college, what separated the good and great teams was fitness! Do we want to be good or great?! In the history of State Cup, no team that was merely good has ever won, so what’s the point of even going if we don’t play to win?!

On a different note, I will miss having the girls at the house to do homework now that school is out! I’d like to organize a weekly book club meeting to make sure the girls are reading while school is out! Soccer is a thinking girl’s sport, so let’s keep our minds sharp!

Every time I thought I thoroughly hated Mimi, she’d do something positive like organize a book group. Every time I was prepared to keep my daughter far away from her, she’d shoot an email to me that offered an olive branch.

TO: Claire

FROM: Mimi

DATE: June 22

RE: Nice game, Rachel!

Please tell Rachel how proud I was of her amazing performance this weekend! She really had a breakthrough! Some people had their doubts about a girl coming from rec at eleven, but I always knew she’d prove them wrong! As a reward, she gets to select the first book for our summer reading group!

Go Kix and go Rachel!

When I arrived at Kathy’s place, the girls were visiting friends and George was still at the office. She opened the door and fell into my arms, sobbing. “I can’t believe I named my baby Steve Emmett,” she cried. “How horrible am I for not thinking that through?”

Standing in the doorway in her weekend sweats and dirty hair, I realized we had a very big problem on our hands. Kathy followed my mother’s philosophy of never being seen anything less than cover-ready. She took this to the extreme by scheduling a bikini wax one week before her scheduled Cesarean delivery. This new, unshowered Kathy was a new low. I don’t even think she had lip gloss on.

“Kathy, have you been to a psychiatrist for an evaluation?” I asked, walking in and taking baby Duke from her arms. My God, I’d be depressed too if I had a child who wasn’t going to be able to wipe his nose for four years. Gross, a bubble had just come out of his nostril.

“I’ve got an appointment with my regular doctor next Thursday and she’ll give me a shrink referral then,” Kathy said listlessly.

“Are you kidding?! Did you tell them how awful you feel?! This is urgent, Kath.”

“George made the appointment,” she said. “They said it was the soonest they could see me.”

“Give me the phone number,” I said, reminding myself of Lil ten years ago. I am quite certain that if she hadn’t come along to rescue me, I would have still been crouched behind my hamper, begging for a quick and merciful death. Poor Steve would have had no one to help him through any of his treatments. Rachel would’ve essentially been an orphan with a dead father and a shell of a mother. “No, I’m sorry, I cannot hold,” I said to the receptionist.

“Excuse me?” she replied, bewildered.

“You asked if I’d mind holding, so as long as you’re asking, yes, I do mind. My sister’s been scheduled to see the doctor nearly two weeks from now and that’s far too long a wait. We have an emergency situation here.”

“If it’s life-threatening, hang up and dial 9-1-1,” the receptionist said.

“Are the calls ahead of me life-threatening?” I asked.

“I most certainly hope not.”

I laughed. “Okay, fair enough.” I listened to Muzak for the next seven minutes while I paced the room bouncing Duke.

“Okay, what’s the emergency?” the receptionist snapped when she returned.

“My sister has post-partum depression and the doctor scheduled her for a visit two weeks from now.
Then
he’s going to give her a referral to a therapist. We need her on medication tonight.”

“How do you know it’s post-partum depression?” she asked.

“It runs in the family. Only my mother never took care of hers and she’s still pissy after thirty-eight years.”

Finally, the ice cracked. “I’ve got one of those too,” the receptionist said. “If you promise not to tell anyone I’m doing this—” She paused. I assured her my lips were sealed. “Call Dr. Lampert and tell him Angie said to get your sister in right away. He doesn’t book patients after four so he’s able to take urgent calls—or go home early. In any event, if you say Angie sent you, he’ll make sure you get in today.”

“You are the best!” I screeched. “Thank you so much, Angie!”

“Oh, I’m not Angie, but you’re welcome.”