Chapter Two - Awkward Confessions

"What the...?" I mumbled groggily. My body was splayed across the ground and I had no immediate recollection of the events leading up to this compromising position.

My mind was frantically searching for a memory of an attack from some unknown intruder, or the usual occurrence of me tripping and slamming my head against something. That latter would account for the all too familiar throbbing sensation creeping up through the back of my eyelids.

The goddamn Bella gremlin must be taking up tap dancing this week.

I tried to recall what I could last remember. I remembered that I came through the door, rushed over to the phone and checked… it for... messages.

I pinched myself. I needed to make sure that I was completely awake and not still passed out like an ass on the floor. The images crashed into my brain with the force of a out of control wrecking ball.

I secured a trial. I was going to trying out for a Women's Professional Soccer team.

Holy shit. Was the first thought that crossed my mind as I tried to lift my body off the ground and put my head between my knees. It felt like the gremlin wasn't performing her latest rendition of the Lord of the Dance in my head anymore. The little shit had traveled down through my body and was currently performing laps in the contents of my stomach. My suspicions were validated when a wave of nausea took over my body and I felt the uncontrollable urge to vomit.

I wish I had been that lucky. Unfortunately, I had not had the chance to eat very much. All I got was dry heaves.

I went into the bathroom to splash some cool water on my face. The soothing caress of the stream was unbelievably refreshing. When I lifted my face I caught sight of my appearance in the mirror. The droplets fell slowly down my face, drawing my attention to the extremely familiar flush from the boiled blood vessels in my cheeks. The dimples in my face burned more so than usual. My face looked tired, and I noticed the slight hint of a wrinkle in the corners of my eyes. I wasn't old, but life had thrown me so many hoops. I had to jump higher each time just to get through them. It was starting to take a toll on my body. As I stared into the mirror analyzing the plain Jane that looked back, I tried to read the expressions coming from the muddy brown eyes. I had to calm down, and in order to do that I needed to figure out what I was feeling.

My eyes showed a flurry of emotion.

Elation, because finally I had a real opportunity at giving my dreams a shot.

Weariness, because I felt like someone might be playing some sort of sick and twisted joke on me. My mind egged me on to call Renee and find out if she caught wind of my submission and had orchestrated some kind of grand scheme to crush my only escape from the repetitive hell that had become my life. It didn't seem like the phone call was real. Like the coaches had made some kind of mistake. Maybe they had mixed up the submissions and confused mine with someone else.

I thought that maybe I should call them because knowing my luck, that probably happened. Silly Bella, nobody meant you, I thought to myself.

Sadness, because I'm an idiot for dragging up the memory of my mother calling me a failure and subsequently making me doubt myself. I remembered that night clearly. Most vivid were the sensory memories of the smell of fresh tears and the sound of my uncontrollable sobs after my mother confessed her disappointment in me.

Anger, because I could see in the face of the woman glaring back at me mimic the one surfacing in my memory of that vile night with Renee. I had promised myself a very long time ago that I would not get back to that depressing point again; just the thought of how she affected me was killing my semi-elated buzz. When she confessed that she wished that her daughter had not failed her and her family, I became a shell of my former self.

Soulless and lifeless; nothing brought me happiness at that point in my life and I never, ever, wanted to go back there.

Determination flashed through my eyes. I sure as hell could not let Renee, a woman I had not spoken to in years, my father, James or anyone else fuck with me this time. I wanted the chance to fail because others on the field had proved themselves to be better than me, and not because I failed myself through lack of preparation, self-deprecation or injury.

No I will not. Not this time.

I would give this trial everything that I possessed within me. If I walked away unsuccessful, then I would deal with that after I got on the plane home and left with my head held high.

I finished washing the clammy swear off my face and went into the kitchen to grab some food and come up with a game plan. I threw a salad together and popped a piece of salmon smothered with gorgonzola cheese and dill into the oven. Charlie wouldn't be home for a few hours and he didn't like salmon. Hopefully, the fishy smell would leave the kitchen by the time he would be home.

Sitting at the small kitchen table with my wine, salmon and salad, I started drafting my approach to May third.

I would have to run at least twenty five miles each week for the next two weeks, and only run three the day before the trial. I would also need to call out of work for the two weeks before and after the trial, book a hotel and flight to Connecticut, and run drills twice a day. I wanted to be able to stand out from the rest of the athletes participating that day. I needed to make sure that I did not leave any room for the trainers and coaches to question my abilities or talent. Everything needed to be perfect for all the pieces to finally fall into place.

Tomorrow I would start my preparation. I could even enlist from Ross, but I didn't think that he could really help me with anything that would give me an edge over the competition.

You will do this yourself Bella, you will or you'll fail.

I cleared my plate, finished my wine and chugged down a bottle of water before I made my way upstairs to the shower with high hopes that I could wash away the grime of the game and relax my sore muscles. Only a hot shower would prepare me for my last peaceful night of sleep for a long while.

Tomorrow would be the first step towards the rest of my life.

I really need a freaking massage.

************************************************************************

The hospital was not too happy that I would be taking the time off, but frankly I really didn't give a shit. When I was not working at the hospital, I was on the soccer field. As a result, I had a crap load of vacation time that I had not taken. I planned on going to the world cup in South Africa next year, but I really did not want to go alone. I kind of help a secret hope that I would have someone special to go with by then. Along side that silent prayer was the wishful thinking that I could be over this crap that James had left me with.

Wishful thinking Dummy; I could not escape the fact that I was always my own worst enemy.

I took one month off of work, giving me two weeks before and after the catastrophic event to prepare and subsequently recover from what was, without a doubt, going to be one of the most embarrassing moments of my life.

Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! Why can't I just get over my insecurities! I vaguely remembered a Sports Psychology course I took that mentioned positive mental imagery. I don't know how I managed to nab an 'A' in that course, because I failed miserably in transitioning anything that the three thousand dollars in credits had gotten me. Fuck it, at least I'm being prepared. If I don't make the cut, I've gotten myself plenty of time to bask in my own misery.

Before I would set out for Connecticut, I would have to stock my freezer with the only men in my life that had never failed to put a smile on my face. Thank you, Ben and Jerry.

For the last week and a half, I ate, drank and slept soccer. Not all together different from my normal routine, but at least now it was in preparation for exposing my potential to critics who would make or break my future. I would wake up in the morning and shower, and after I would completely ignore my external appearance. I shut out the little bit of beautification that I had learned from a fashion magazine, that was currently taking up residence and collecting dust under my bed, for a later time when it really mattered. Every day I drove to the high school and trained for hours on end, coming home at its conclusion with a sore body that was swollen and in dire need of an ice bath.

I made arrangements to stay at the Hilton hotel nearest to University Field. My good friend, Tom Tom, had given me explicit directions from Bradley airport to the hotel. It should only take forty five minutes for each trip. I decided that I did not want to use a shuttle to get around because I figured it would be easier for me to find a place to relax the night before the trial. It would be much easier to find the local watering hole if I did not have to rely on a bus service to quell my anticipated nerves.

My flight was scheduled to leave this Thursday evening out of Sea-Tac Airport. I would be in Connecticut by one o'clock in the morning and at the hotel by two. I'd be able to sleep in until ten, and then have to get up to do a warm down. I wanted to get to see the field before the actual trial. I needed to have a quiet discussion with the soccer gods before I would set foot on that field for anything other than quiet contemplation. I thought that if I got one moment to stand in the middle of the field, breathe in its smell and imagine myself playing there, I would be okay to go.

My bags were packed and my iPod was fully charged.

The only problem that I now faced, besides my impending doom on the pitch, was Charlie. I did not tell Charlie a single thing about anything. What the hell am I going to tell him? All I knew was that I needed to figure it out fast before he came home tonight, otherwise I would be up shits creek without a paddle in a boat with a slow leak.

Speak of the devil. Charlie's cruiser rolled into the driveway, and the familiar heavy footfalls of my fathers gate resounded on the old wood of his porch.

"Hey Bells. What smells so good?" My father said when he came through the door. I figured that if I told my father I was leaving the state for a few days, I had better give myself the best chance of getting on his good side. So I threw together a meat lasagna and had it ready to go for him.

Now all you have to do is get him to take off his gun.

"Char-- I mean, Dad, why don't you change and get comfortable, then come eat in the kitchen", I called out to him while portioning out food for his and my own plates.

Charlie walked into the kitchen still packing.

"I haven't eaten anything since lunch kid, I'm starving. You made my favorite? You tryin' to butter me up or somethin'?" Charlie sighed and with a foreboding 'thunk', sat in his spot at the table in front of a heaping pile of steaming meat, cheese and pasta. "You've been off work for the last two weeks Bells, and you've been ruining the high school field with your cleats."

I was struck dumb. I stopped fussing with the dishes in the sink and held my breath in anticipation of what I knew was coming.

"The Athletic Director called on Monday and said you've been running all kinds of hard, back and forth across their field. He said you were digging so hard that you left some divots he'd never be able to fill. He threatened to send a bill." He stopped speaking for a moment to shovel his first bite food into his mouth. My altogether dumbstruck face morphed into something that resembled sheer terror.

Fuck. Me. He. Knows.

I anticipated that within moments the verbal assault would begin.

Instead, nothing came. All that could be heard were the noises he made with his fork against the plate. After a few more seconds, he spoke again, more calmly than before.

"Sounds to me like you've been trainin' up for somethin;" He was staring at his plate instead of eating his food, and he gripped the fork so tightly in his hand that his knuckles were blanched white. This was not a good sign.

Here it comes, breath Bella. I shut my eyes in preparation for the onslaught of tears.

"You... you, uh, did the same thing last time. The football coaches called me during a game I was watchin', and damn near took my ear off because you tore their field to shreds", Charlie chuckled lightheartedly. My body relented from its frozen position and turned slowly, farther away from his direction. He was going to snap, and I didn't want to look at him in the eye when he started his tirade.

His fork came down on his plate with a slight clank, and I heard the chair push back slightly from the table. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see that Charlie was resting his elbows on his knees and had his head bent towards the floor. He looked exhausted. My heart raced in my chest, and my hands began to shake as violently as they did on Notification Day.

Guilt washed over me. I should have told him. I should apologize for putting him through everything... all of it, for all the years. He must be so disappointed in me. Just like Renee still is. God, I'm so sorry Charlie. I apologized to him in my head because I just couldn't get my mouth to say the words.

"Bella, we don't talk to much you and me. I'm no good at stuff like that. But it doesn't mean that you're not... you're, you're not on my mind".

"Dad..." I turned towards him quickly to interrupt. I didn't want him to yell and shout at me like Renee did. I knew I fucked up all those years ago. The little Bella gremlin still screamed at me. Even now, even after all my training and work, the damn spawn shouted loud and clear that I wasn't, nor would I ever be good enough. I'm a failure. I was already completely aware of that fact. But there was something inside of me that would not let go of the dream. Maybe it was a hidden part of my unconscious that was a sucker for pain. Maybe it was just another gremlin for my other lonely shoulder. I had no clue. What I did know, was that I did not want to be told again that I was a failure. I was utterly terrified that the little part of me that was holding onto the old Bella and the farfetched picture of perfection were going to disappear. Every molecule of motivation that I had stored up to use at this trial would flitter away and disappear on me. I did not want to hear that same speech again, and especially not so soon before I was about to give it my one last shot.

If I heard those words leave my fathers lips I knew I'd be lost, and the last pebble set atop my shoulders would cripple my legs permanently.

"Dad, please, whatever you are going to say…" Charlie cut me off.

"No. Isabella, listen to me. Whatever it is that you are doing, whatever is going on, I want you to know that I know you are the best. Baby girl, you always have been. When your knees broke, when your body gave out, I felt it. My body broke when yours did and my heart shattered when I heard your mother say those things to you. You're a natural on that field Bells, everything that happened to you happened for a reason. You are such a strong person, and I think that you are the only one who could have handled it. Any lesser of a person would have crumbled under the pressure."

"Charl--", I was speechless and I felt the trickle of a tear fall down my cheek. The words were stuck in my throat as I took in the distressed look on my fathers face. I was absolutely stunned into silence with these turn of events. My father never said things like that to me.

A thought occured to me. He must be dying or something.

Before I could activate the filter in my head, the words escaped my mouth.

"Dad, are you dying?"

"What? Bells, what? No, I'm not dying. What? Why? Why would you think that?"

"I don't know Dad, it's just...", my eyes had shown that my mind was searching frantically to rectify the disparity between how I thought this conversation was going to turn out, and what actually had transpired. The words he said and the words I had anticipated him to say fought for dominance in my mind. Is this really happening?

I couldn't look at him. I had to look anywhere but. I was on the precipice of breaking down, and I knew that the look on his face, if I chanced a glance, would send me flying over the edge without a rope to save me.

"Bella, let me just get this out." Charlie raised his head to look at me. "Look at me Bella. Please, just look at me." When my eyes met his I catapulted over the ledge and the tears flowed without hindrance from my eyes. I was a total goner. "When Renee said those things to you, I didn't know how to react. I never thought that the woman I married, that the woman, who gave birth to the best thing that has ever happened to me, could have been so cruel. But Bells..." Too quick for me to notice, either because I was preoccupied with the onslaught of tears, or because it was obvious I inherited some of my agility from my father, he had abandoned his place at the table and was standing and moving towards me. He approached me and placed his hands on my shoulders. "Bells, what she said, none of it was true. Baby, you were born to fly on that field. It's something I don't understand. Your calling is on that field with that stupid ball, dribbling circles around all those other less talented idiots out there. Not here, not in that hospital, not friendless, and not alone. Do not let your past and the mistakes that your mother made hold you back."

I'd have to have a discussion soon with my body, especially when my mind wasn't taking a freakin' vacation. Once again, for more times than I would like to admit, my body acted of its own accord. I threw my arms around his waist and hugged him as if I was clinging onto life. It had been close to ten years since the last time I embraced my father. The relief, comfort and safety I felt in his arms washed over me as I let his words sink in.

He wasn't disappointed in me.

He believed in me.

He did not think I was a failure.

"Dad, I..." I was hard to get a word out between my sobs. I'm such a fucking baby. Keep it simple stupid. I could take a fucking hit on the field without crying, but it was apparent that I couldn't respond to my father without the use of a fire hydrant. "Thanks Dad, it means a lot to hear you say that." About time, you wuss.

As always, I was my own worse enemy.

We stayed like that for a few minutes. When he let go, it felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. It was a bitter sweet moment. On one hand, for reasons I cannot explain, it felt a little easier to breath. On the other, his words were disconcerting and because of my own insecure nature, I was searching for anything that Charlie could gain by admitting such a confession. Nothing came to mind. All I could do in that moment was to ride this wave until it landed me on a deserted beach; alone again.

I wiped my eyes before looking up and speaking, "Geesh Dad, did my cooking really suck so much that you felt bad for me or something?" We both laughed a little while I grabbed the plate I had made and sat at my respective place at the table. I hoped that he would follow suit and eat with me. He hadn't moved from the spot of our encounter until his stomach got the best of him and released a loud growl.

As we sat there and ate together, I felt the atmosphere shift between us. Usually we both avoided conversation and anything remotely emotional. There was always this wall up between the two of us, neither having the strength or courage to bring it down. Now, now it felt like there was a vast open space just waiting to be filled. It was a hopeful and happy atmosphere, and so much better than what had existed between us before. I noticed that the tears had stopped a while ago and that I was actually smiling a genuine smile.

"So, what is it Bells? What the heck is going on?" Charlie barely made out between mouthfuls. His stomach had obviously taken temporary control over his bodily functions. He went at his food like it was his last meal.

"Ummmm, well..." where should I start? "A few weeks ago I came across an advertisement that called for female soccer athletes to send in a play tape for the chance to try out for a professional team", I let my gaze fall back to the plate of food that I hadn't touched. Even with this different air between us, I was still scared that he would lose it. That he would jump up and tell me to get over the childish dream that I still held clung to, and to move on. I waited, and yet again, the insults never came. I continued after a minute, "I sent a video in after I saw the ad, and two weeks ago I got called to fly out to Connecticut for a trial with the team out there." I took a hesitant bite of my food, hoping to give him a minute to absorb everything.

He said nothing. It was worse than having him spew insults at me.

The skin between his eyebrows creased. Charlie was thinking extremely hard about something, and I had no idea what it was. However, his fork was still force feeding his mouth.

"When's the tryout?" I barely made out the garble of words through the chewed food in his mouth.

"Well, you weren't wrong about me trying to butter you up Dad. I was trying to find a way to tell you that I was leaving tomorrow night. My flight leaves from Seattle at ten at night." I was trying to lighten the mood again. I cold feel that the wall that was trying to erect itself again.

"Tomorrow?" His fork and stilled and his free hand ran through his hair and rested at the base of his neck. "Do you want me to come?"

What? Huh? Come again?

Never in my wildest dreams would I have ever thought that Charlie would want to come with me to Connecticut. I wasn't prepared to answer the question.

I thought for a moment.

And then the reality hit me.

No.

"Dad, as much as I think I could use your support through this, I think I need to do this by myself. I feel like if I don't, I'm going to always wonder if I was doing this for myself or for someone else." I felt horrible for saying that to him, but it was the truth and I wanted to be honest with him. I needed to stay away from distractions otherwise I would lose sight of my goal. I needed to make sure I was doing this for the right reasons. And because of that fact, I needed to go it alone.

"I understand Bells. Can I at least drop you off at the airport?" The tentative wall had completely dissipated again.

"Sure Dad, that'd be a big help", I smiled at him.

"Do you need anything? Are you ready? Are you excited? Are you nervous? Do your knees hurt..." I was bombarded with a thousand questions from the most unlikely source. It was strangely comforting.

The rest of dinner progressed in the same fashion. Charlie asked me more questions than I had been asked on all my college finals combined, many of which I did not have answers to. I did not know anything about the team, the players, or even the coaches. I just wanted to head to Connecticut, play a bit of soccer with some talented people and then come home and hope for the best.

After dinner, Charlie told me that he would clean up. He shooed me upstairs, saying that I needed my rest if I was flying out tomorrow. Before I left the room, I stopped, turned and spoke the words that I had wanted to be able to say without feeling uncomfortable for years.

"Dad?"

"Yeah?" He said absentmindedly while trying to figure out how to operate the spray nozzle on his sink.

"I don't tell you often... well, ever actually. But, I love you dad. Thanks for everything." My head was down, and I was blushing furiously.

Charlie stopped fussing with the nozzle and came over to give me another hug.

Two in one night, must be some kind of record.

"I love you too, Bells. I'm so sorry for everything, ok? I'm so proud of you. No matter what happens. Now go to bed and get out of my kitchen." He released me and went back to his ongoing war with the kitchen appliances.

I laughed at the mental image of him garnishing armor to do the dishes, and made my way upstairs to get some sleep.

My steps up the stairs had a slight bounce, and in many ways were lighter than they had ever been.

I thought about his face at the hospital on that horrific night. I remembered his face shaped with an unmistakable look of anguish tainting his features. But as I lay contemplating its meaning, it dawned on me that he might, just might, not have been upset at me. He might have been sad for me, and upset at something else, and that something else just might be the other person that had made that night just as miserable as losing the ability to walk.

Renee.

As sick as it sounded it my head when I thought of her taking the blame for my father's anger, I couldn't help but hope it was true.

I fell asleep very easily that night. For the first time in a few years, I dreamt about dancing with my father as little girl. I stood on his toes because I was too uncoordinated to do it by myself. When I was that age, I felt totally carefree and loved unconditionally. Not once was I disturbed with nightmares of failing miserably on Saturday. Everything was already starting to come back to its rightful place in the universe. I had my father back.

I just hoped that it didn't hinge on the outcome of Saturdays trial.