I grimaced at her. “You do know who she is, right?”
Coach chuckled. “Yeah, I’ve been informed a few times. As in, a few times more than I needed to be. But I do this for fun, and because I love it. I don’t play politics. If they fire me tomorrow, well, it’s not like I quit my day job.”
I laughed, and she smiled at me, and my heart fluttered inside my chest. God she was, um, pretty wasn’t the word, striking, maybe. Whatever the case, I had a hard time looking away from her face.
The girls started to filter out of the locker room, which brought me back to myself. I saw Paige walk past the door on the far side. “Well, I really need to go collect my daughter, and I have a pair of hungry boys at home.” I reached a hand out and she shook it. I felt my cheeks heat up as I looked into her piercing green eyes. “It was nice talking to you, Coach Dalton.”
“Same here. And my friends call me Sandy.”
“Sandy. And I’m Melanie.”
Sandy grinned at me. “I know.”
I fought off a giggle, but not a blush. I was still holding her hand when Paige walked up. “Mom! You ready?”
I dropped the Coach’s hand like I’d been caught snitching cookies from Grandma’s cookie jar.
“Hi, Sweetie. Yeah, let’s go.” I stood up and stepped down a little too fast, losing my balance for a moment and reaching out.
Sandy reached up and caught my arm so I didn’t fall. “Careful now.”
“Sorry.” She held my elbow as I stepped over the last two rows and onto the floor, my blush intensifying with embarrassment.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, thanks, Sandy.” I savored the feeling of her name on my lips. It was nice.
“You’re welcome. And you,” she turned to my daughter, who was coming closer, “good job today.”
Now it was my daughter’s turn to blush. “Thanks, Coach.”
Coach Dalton nodded. “See you both tomorrow.” She waved and walked away, her track pants moving over her firm, perfect backside.
“Mom!? C’mon, I’m hungry.”
“Hmm? Sorry, yeah, let’s go.”
“What’s with you?”
I tried to shake the fuzz out of my mind. “Nothing. I’m fine.”
I don’t think I was really fine. I let Paige drive home, mostly so I could daydream about the incredible pair of green eyes that I’d just experienced. I couldn’t wait for the kids to go to bed so I could get into the tub, since I hadn’t been able to think about anything else all evening.
******
My week was awful. I’d accepted an editing job which consisted of looking over about a dozen online instructions manuals for an overseas manufacturer. Halfway through the first one I was convinced it had been translated from Norwegian to English by someone who only spoke Chinese. Technical editing like this was my least favorite, and with my subconscious’s exciting new obsession, it was a mighty struggle to stay on task. Unfortunately, between Will and Charlie’s after school activities I hadn’t been able to get over to any more of Paige’s practices.
By noon on Friday I was very much over both my work tasks (which were barely two thirds done) and the Marie Callender frozen meals I’d been eating for lunch every day. There was a new Ramen Noodles place open in the Village District, and I figured I could take a decent lunch break and head over for some takeout. I really just wanted to get out of the house, and picking up was a ton cheaper than having things delivered.
The place was packed. I was able to grab a takeout menu, but the only seats in the waiting area were between other people, and I didn’t want to try to squeeze in, so I was leaning up against the wall, looking at my choices and trying to be as small as possible. I swear nothing makes you feel fatter than being in tight spaces with other people.
I was just thinking that after I ordered I was going to head out to my car to wait when I heard my name.
“Melanie?”
My jaw about dropped through the floor when I saw Coach Dalton. I almost didn’t recognize her for a second, wearing a smart yellow blouse and tight, tailored charcoal slacks. She looked very professional, and quite stunning.
“Coach Dalton! Hi!” I waved my menu. “Just getting some takeout, if I can figure out what I want.”
“It’s intimidating isn’t it?”
I smiled and nodded. “Yeah.”
“Well, if you don’t have anywhere to be, I just sat down. I can talk you through it.”
Something about her tone of voice had me almost breaking out in goosebumps. My brain tried to make me hesitate, I mean, I barely knew this woman, but it never stood a chance. Somehow I managed to squeak out a very shaky, “Okay.”
Sandy grinned at me. “Are you sure? You don’t have to.”
I returned her smile and took a steadying breath. “No, really. I’d love to. Thanks.”
Sandy’s smile widened, and she spoke quickly to one of the waiters. “Ni neng za wo de zhuozi shezhi ling yige wei zhi ma? Xie Xie.”
The waiter nodded.
I giggled. “What did you say to him?”
“I just asked him to set another place at my table. Even though Ramen originated in Japan, it’s just as popular in China. The family that owns this place is originally from Hong Kong. Which is good, ’cause my Japanese is horrible.” She nodded over her shoulder. “C’mon, let’s go sit down.”
We walked through the busy restaurant to a small table about three-fourths of the way back, where the young man Sandy had spoken to was indeed placing a napkin, menu, and glass of water at a table, which only held a glass of iced tea on the far side.
I sat, smoothing my skirt underneath me as I did. Sandy walked around the table and took her spot. “So, have you been here before?”
I shook my head. “It hasn’t been here that long, but reviews have been good. You?”
“A couple times. They do spicy pretty well; it’s like being back in Asia.”
“You lived in Asia?”
“I’ve played in a lot of places around the world., semi-pro leagues, international leagues. There isn’t much money in women’s professional field hockey. You have to go where you can support yourself if you want to keep playing.” She chuckled, her eyes looking into the past. “My life would have been very different if I’d fallen for soccer or tennis.”
“So why field hockey, then?”
She shrugged with a far away smile on her face. “Ask my mother. She loves to tell the story of me at age five making up a game where I started smacking around some little plastic ball with a broom.”
The innocence in her naturally intense face softened her features adorably, and I was staring. She looked up at me, and I pulled my eyes away on instinct, but when I nervously glanced back she was still gazing at me. Heat rose in my cheeks, but I didn’t look away.
Sandy leaned back and took a sip of her iced tea. “So tell me about yourself, Melanie.”
I looked down, fumbling with my napkin. “Not much to tell, really. I’m pretty boring.”
“I doubt that. How many kids do you have?”
“Three.” I smiled into my water. “You know Paige, she’s my oldest. Will was sixteen last month, and Charlie, my youngest, will be thirteen in January.”
“I don’t see how being the mother of teenagers could be boring.”
I giggled. “Well, it’s busy, that’s true. They oughta make parents of teens get chauffeur’s licenses, cause that’s what I really feel like, most of the time.”
“And your husband?”
I held up my bare left ring finger. “Divorced. Ten years now.” I felt the emotion rise in my chest, my eyes burning as the shame of my abject marital failure surfaced in my mind.
Sandy reached out and took my hand. “I’m sorry. It’s okay. Let’s just have a nice lunch. No sad talk.”
I wiped my eyes. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t, um, god.” I made myself look up at her, and saw her eyes shining with concern. “I’m fine.” I glanced at her hand, still covering mine. That felt nice, and I let my palm turn over for just a moment, and gave her hand a squeeze before pulling back.
She looked at me kindly for a second, an expression I doubted any of her players had ever seen, but I appreciated it for the moment it was there. Sandy picked up her menu, her voice bright. “So what are you going to get?”
I grinned. “I have no idea. I feel like I’m throwing darts. It’s all Japanese to me. Literally.”
“I get that. Okay, so, you’re choosing between various kinds of broth and noodles.” She took the next few minutes to walk me through the various options, and when the waiter returned I confidently ordered my Spicy Miso Ramen. My companion ordered something called Tsukemen, and she added something called gyoza.
“So are you a foodie, Melanie?”
“I wish.” I sat back in my chair. “My youngest is one of the pickiest eaters I’ve ever met. So when we go out there are only about five Charlie approved restaurants in town.”
“Does your ex get the kids every other weekend, or something?”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
“Go then. You could try out anything you want.”
I let go a bitter laugh. “Yeah, okay. I am not going to restaurants alone.”
“How come? I do it all the time.”
My ears burned in embarrassment as I lowered my voice. “It’s different when you’re me. I mean, when, um.” I let go an exasperated breath.
Sandy’s face grew angry, but it wasn’t directed at me. “Because of your weight?”
I nodded, ashamed. “I hate eating in public, especially by myself. Buffet’s are the worst, I’m always conscious of everything I put on my plate. I feel like everyone is judging me, looking to see what and how much I’m taking. I know most of the time they aren’t, but I feel that way.” I wiped a tear away.