Chapter II

imageOk, you’ve been patient. First, the where. A kids footy pitch nine years ago. A frosty February Sunday morning. white breath, liniment, magic sponge. The competitive pit bull snarls and violent gesticulations were heard from all over the pitches. The language was blue and the insults raw. But that’s enough about the Soccer Mums, I was there to watch my lad. Sarah’s son was on the same team. I had my hood up and scarf wrapped tight around my face. Looking back, I must have stood next to her many times before. But this match was different. – we were in danger of winning a game. From the screams of joy that greeted the final whistle and the party atmosphere on the touchline you’d think we’d won the Premiership. After hugging my son I looked up to find the manager, the architect of our triumph. Then I saw her.
I don’t believe in destiny, I don’t believe in star signs (but that’s me, typical Piscean) but when I saw Sarah standing there, looking straight at me with her beautiful big smile, I knew straight away that I just had to go over and say hello.
“Hello.” I said.
“Hello.” She replied.
“My son is in this team.”
“Well if he isn’t then I’d wonder why you were stood here amongst all these kids with a scarf around your face, to be honest.”
I hate it when a woman is quicker than me. That was the last of the conversation. And, apart from when I turned around and saw her looking for me as she bundled her muddy son into her car, that was the last I saw of her. My ex took my son to school so the next time I would see Sarah would be the following Sunday. So that was that. But what was seven days in one lifetime? The answer was agony. Waking up, driving to work, sitting in boring meetings, I couldn’t get Sarah’s smile out of my head. Thursday, Friday, Saturday dragged like no other. Finally Sunday morning came. It was time to play football,
Anyone who knows me will know that the last thing I am is a clothes horse. I don’t do fashion. But I blooming well did fashion that Sunday morning. How can you wrap up against a wind chill of minus four still look dashing? The short answer is that you can’t. Undeterred, I decided on a body warmer and beanie hat. In other words I looked just like Robert de Nero in The Deer Hunter. No really, I did!
I pulled up with my son and stared out expectantly at the pitches. No one was there. Frozen pitches, the game was off! I could have cried. Anther week of not seeing her? Unbearable.

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