was afraid to open her mouth. She knew she was a little drunk.
Coach’s hand found hers under the table. And he held it, very softly, and didn’t let go until the last moment, when it was time to leave.
In the parking lot, before one final round of goodbyes, Coach asked her parents, “Mr. Gingrich, Mrs. Gingrich, I was wondering, would you consider writing a letter of support for me? Like a general reference? I’m trying to get my teaching portfolio in order.”
Her parents were happy to oblige.
“How funny was he with that calamari!” Mel’s mother said on the ride home, turning around to face Mel in the back seat. “As if he thought it came out of the sea breaded and fried.”
Though Coach’s aversion had embarrassed Mel a few hours earlier, she now felt more sympathetic. “It does look kind of gross, if you think about it.”
Inside her clutch, Mel sees a few missed texts from Gordy, sent in hour-long intervals.
GORDY: You home yet?
GORDY: Rabih is having people over, but I’m still dapper so just text when/if you want me to come by.
She had already decided she would not be writing him back. But Gordy’s final text erased any lingering doubts she had about it.
GORDY: Hey. Did you tell Phoebe the good news? I ran into her and brought it up thinking she would have been your first call. But she reacted a little surprised? Ugh. Sorry. Hope I didn’t screw that up.
Mel closed her eyes, intending to think about how she should handle this mess, but it was easier to not think. There would surely be lots of these kinds of moments coming, senior year purgatory, as she stepped out of one world and into another.
Later that night, after her parents had gone up to bed, Mel pulled her leftovers out of the fridge. She’d been too excited to eat much at the restaurant, but now she gobbled up slices of cold steak with her fingers. She made herself one last mimosa.
COACH: You awake?
MEL: Yes.
MEL: Tonight was so fun.
MEL: It’s fun to think about the future.
COACH: I hope by ‘future’ you mean three weeks from now when Wildcat tryouts start
MEL: Don’t worry. I’ve been dreaming about being varsity captain since my freshman year. My dad already talked to the manager about having P&O cater my Psych-Up.
COACH: So I was thinking about something that your parents said at dinner.
COACH: How you can take your foot off the gas now.
COACH: Maybe don’t even need to play.
COACH: Was that something you discussed with them?
MEL: Of course not!
COACH: Good. Because you haven’t played well since the end of last season.
MEL: I know that.
MEL: But I think you’d have been pleased if you had seen me play spring club and summer sessions
MEL: And clearly I did okay at Truman, right?
COACH:
MEL: What?
COACH: After you sent me all those crazy texts while you were at Truman
COACH: I got concerned.
COACH: I emailed Truman’s scout to find out how it went.
MEL: Okay …
COACH: You’re lucky he owed me a favor.
COACH: And that Truman’s first choice decided to go to Schuyler
COACH: He was able to put your name forward again.
MEL: Oh.
MEL: Thanks.
MEL: Seriously, thank you.
COACH: You don’t need to thank me. You know I’ll do whatever I can to help you.
COACH: But here’s the thing, Mel.
COACH: I only have a certain amount of personal favors I can call in to help you girls.
COACH: I spent a lot of them on you.
COACH: I kept thinking about Phoebe tonight. I really want her to end up someplace great. But it’s going to be an uphill battle.
COACH: Frankly, us winning a championship is going to be the only way she gets top scout attention.
MEL: I am willing to do whatever it takes for Phoebe.
COACH: I’m taking a screenshot of that text
COACH: Receipts I can pull out when I’m pushing you harder than you’ve ever been pushed.
MEL: Bring it.
COACH: You know I will.
COACH: Remember. I didn’t have to come back, Mel.
COACH: But I did. For you.
* * *
Mel tosses and turns, as if trying to stave off this memory from warping.
The feelings, the emotions, the connection she felt with Coach were real. Coach taking her hand might seem tame, but their relationship had previously only existed inside the most secret spaces. Late at night. Pixels on a screen. In her head. No wonder his touch had given her such a thrill. In scale, it was as if Coach had shouted her name from mountaintops.
One bit of praise from him lit her up. And