Write one leaf about how you met.
Two Sundays straight, each pick-up soccer game cancelled. Rain was the culprit. Each sent raincheck message leaving me with a frown because I knew I wasn’t the only one bummed to go another weekend without “Futbol Sundays.”
“Let’s play in the rain!”
Your response left me befuddled. Here was someone who I had never met in my life. Maybe you thought I was Jon. Maybe you were just being funny. The latter, a more likely answer to my confusion.
Then came the day. Sunny, warm, and clear. I didn’t play. I felt off and slightly sick after working for six hours and lack of sleep. A little made-up excuse which became more true by the second.
The irony was I came with the intention to see someone who was a possible would-be-but-never-happened.
I came back after leaving for a brief ten minutes to find everyone returning to the front of the field. Sweat dripping from brows, shirts stuck from condensed bodies, sparsely placed grass stains undecipherable from dark shorts, dirtied and muddied cleats, but an array of smiles from the rush of endorphins after two hours of play.
You sat; I remained standing. Everyone, either a current ODU student or alumni—maybe you were the only one—staring at the VCU Rams hoodie I had put on. Comments were made due to rivalry, and I shrugged each one off.
Then you smiled and laughed. Someone said your name, “Jeff.”
And honest to goodness, I looked at you.
That moment, I didn’t fall for you. I was enthralled by how familiar you looked. The shortly cropped hair, narrow chin, full lips, and handsome bone structure.
I realized you were the one who sent the message.
“You? You’re Jeff? The guy who said we should play in the rain?!” I asked, remembering how I felt confused. “I’m Elaine,” I said, extending my hand out towards you. You took my hand, shook it, and smiled.
