The sigh that came out of him reminded me of a punctured balloon. He still couldn’t believe it. There were people in life that cared about fixing what was broken and there were people who waited for someone else to resolve their problems. Usually, I liked to think that I went for the things that I wanted, but that didn’t mean I wanted to be the one to say something, especially not in this case.
I suddenly felt a little bad that I’d been holding back from telling the truth, just a little bit. Until I remembered the very real threat that the German had given me after I’d helped him out, and then indignation and anger washed over everything. “All right.” I took a deep breath. “I think everyone is just a little unsure of his presence here, G. I think. I can only speak for myself. No one says anything because we’re all probably too scared to put our feet in our mouths and get in trouble. And it doesn’t help that he isn’t exactly Mr. Rogers.”
A smile cracked across the coach’s face.
“I’m serious. I think at some point everyone has had that nightmare coach that calls you a worthless piece of shit who should have quit playing soccer years ago. But somehow, it’s worse to be with someone at this stage that doesn’t seem to care. He doesn’t say anything; he doesn’t do anything. He’s just there.” There was the incident at the photo shoot. And he’d threatened me when all I’d done was try to help him, but I kept that crap to myself. Not because of what he’d said, but just because I wasn’t that type of person.
It was a fact. Kulti didn’t do anything. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t share his knowledge or his anger except that one time, or even his vocabulary.
“Jesus.” Gardner nodded and ran a hand over his head. “I get it.”
Had I said too much? Maybe.
Puffing my cheeks like a blowfish I started yammering. “Look, he’s a great player. I’m not saying he’s not, obviously. But shouldn’t he be coaching us? Bitching? Telling us when we’re doing something good or at least doing something spectacularly bad? Something? I figured maybe he was just getting used to being around girls, but it’s been long enough now. Don’t you think?”
“I understand what you’re saying. It makes sense.” He rubbed a hand over his head and glanced up at the ceiling. “I don’t know why I didn’t think about that before. Huh.” He nodded at himself before looking over at me. “At least now I know where I need to start.”
Fidgeting in the chair for a moment, I sat up and nodded at him. “That’s about it.”
Gardner made a few faces as he thought about what I said but finally gave me a curt nod. “I appreciate you talking to me. I’ll make sure we get this sorted out,” he said finally, my cue to get the hell out of there.
“All right, then. I should get going. See you tomorrow,” I said, grabbing my belongings and getting up.
He gave me a funny look. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do for you too. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you look like you’re ready to bite someone’s head off. ”
So apparently I needed to work on keeping my game face on a little better. I could do that. I smiled and nodded at the man sitting across the table. “I’m fine, G. Thanks, though.”
His features eased a bit and an emotion I wasn’t sure I recognized crossed his face as I took a step back. “I’m proud of you Sal, for standing up to him. Especially now that I know how you all are feeling about his presence here… I want you to know that. You’re a good girl.”
Gardner’s words made me feel nice at the same time they made me feel guilty. I gave him a little smile and shrugged. “I should have said something to you earlier about the girls, G.”
“It’s fine. You said something now and that’s all that matters.”
Was it?
We said bye to each other one more time and then I was out of there.
Bag over my shoulder, I slowly made my way out, thinking. Had I done the right thing? I wasn’t positive, but what else was I supposed to do? I could painfully go through another five months of tiptoeing around this German dingle-berry, but it was different if I wasn’t the only one being affected by his presence.
The trek back was old and familiar. Down two hallways and head to the elevator. I knew it by memory. I rocked back and forth on my heels as I waited for the elevator.
It was the soft squeak of a foreign pair of tennis shoes on the linoleum floor that had me glancing over. The sound wasn’t anything special in this building; mostly everyone wore tennis shoes unless it was game day or if it was a woman wearing heels. But when I saw a pair of special edition RK running shoes, black with lime-green stitching, my shoulders tensed up.