The emotions from the night before had settled on Alex the following morning like a bad hangover. Twisting her hair into a clip as she waited for the kettle to warm, she let out a yawn. There was a heaviness to the morning that she had not been planning for. Knowing that so much of what stood before her was unanswered, she was not quite sure how to plan for the rest of the day, much less any day following.
The television was a glaring reinforcement of all of the difficult emotions that were brought on by the previous night's events. Unable to watch anything else, she listened idly as the pundits covered the match, analyzing nearly every moment. They discussed the injury that took Roy off the pitch, for what they were starting to assume would be the last time. Her stomach knotted as they posited the future of his career.
Alex wondered what each of the players were doing as they rolled out of bed. What did the day look like knowing that their team had been relegated? How would they cope? And where was Roy? Was he waking up to an empty house; just an echo chamber for every fear she assumed he was facing? She sipped her tea, brow furrowed in deep thought.
Roy pressed the pad of his finger to the doorbell. Hearing the ding echo behind the closed door solidified the vulnerability seated in his gut. He swallowed, transferred his weight from one foot to the other, and occupied himself with the details of the brick outside of the building. The moment the door opened, there was a thickness in his throat that made him sure he was not going to be able to get a word out.
"Roy?" Alex was surprised to see Roy fucking Kent standing on her doorstep at 9:00 in the morning. She thanked God she had brushed her teeth, but cursed herself for her mismatched pajamas. "Is everything okay?"
"No," he began. "Well, yes. Everything's fine." He corrected himself, rubbing his forehead in frustration. He let out a growl and took a deep breath. "Well, no. Everything's shit. The whole thing's shit. My knee's fucked. My career is fucked. I don't know who I am or what I am when I'm not playing fucking football. And I don't know what I do or where I go from here." He started to get caught up in his tense emotions. Alex wasn't sure when or if there was a good time to stop the train before it went off the track. "I'm fucking terrified about all of it. But all I could think about when I woke up this morning, with my entire life gone to shit, is 'what if I never see her again?.' And so I got in the car and I got lost twice because I've been here once in the dark in a cab and how could I possibly remember which fucking building it is when they all look the fucking same?"
Alex giggled, her stomach tensed and fluttered. "Do you want to come in?"