Beyond Repair

Chapter 4 - Max

I had my tablet out and my headphones in. Spread out on the bed, watching old games. I did it from time to time, even though I knew it did me no good at all. All it did was make me brood about what I had lost in the accident. I looked up at the canvas beside the door and eyed the portrait shot of me and Terri. It was black and white, but somehow the colour of her fiery hair seemed to pierce through. It was just after she had it cut into a sharp bob. Before that, her hair had been long enough to touch the curve of her bum. As she walked around naked, it would slowly caress her cheeks and make me even more desperate to jump to attention and grab her.

The tear slipped from my eye so easily that I barely noticed it. I missed her so much. Life just wasn't the same without her in it.

Just then, the door opened, and I turned my head back down to my tablet. I wasn't certain it was her, but it didn't matter, I wouldn't let Dickie see me cry either. I could see the black tights that clad her legs as she walked past. Looking up just enough to see she wasn't paying me any attention to me at all. She just sauntered past the bed carrying a grey wash basket and headed for the wardrobe. I had to stifle a laugh as she went to pull the door open and it jarred her. "It's push only because of the chair." I nodded slightly towards my wheelchair and could tell by the look she flashed at me, that I hadn't hidden my amusement well enough.

It was odd looking at her; she seemed like a completely different person. The red skirt and black tights didn't look nearly as bright and offending without the addition of the canary yellow jumper that she had deposited somewhere. She had tucked a simple grey tee into the skirt and made the whole outfit look more dark, punk-like maybe. The golden waves that flowed down her back were the only bright thing about her and suddenly she seemed much more tolerable. As she tossed her hair to one side she grappled with the door again one handed, I spotted the edge of a tattoo peeking out from under her grey sleeve. It looked to be a swallow, but I couldn't be sure. I couldn't even remember her name, but suddenly she was intriguing enough for me not to scare her off quite yet.

I turned my attention back to the tablet. It was a rather old game, one of the first I had played with Dickie as my manager. Watching it back, it was hard not to see me as though it wasn't really me at all. To watch it like a spectator. To see all the promise that the eighteen-year-old, wet behind the ears, footballer had. There was a panning of the camera just after I scored and I saw Terri in the stands right behind Dickie’s position pitch side. She was up on her feet cheering, her long locks of fire bouncing around like a bonfire on a winter night. She was so full of joy and pride. It made me smile, just for a moment. Seeing her feelings for me so evidently on her pixie-like face. It made me wonder how I had ever doubted her.

She wasn't like the other WAGS who only really turned up for the big important games. Terri was there for it all, she would help at practices not that she needed to, there was more than enough staff, but she was almost like a mother hen clucking around. Every game I played she was there in the stands watching on, no matter what the weather predicted. Terri didn't work, but she made me her job. She studied up on nutrition and would make sure I was eating right. It was like having a coach with me twenty-four hours a day. Telling me when I was supposed to be working out and when I should be resting.

I knew she was looking forward to the days after I retired from the sport, not that we had set a date for such an awful occasion. For Terri, that was where her life would begin and she loved to talk about it. Daydreaming about the places we would travel to and the sights we would see. She wanted us to visit everywhere I had played an away match and actually see the places, not just the stadium and the hotel. At the time, I would have given anything to prolong the time before we made those trips. All I had wanted ever since she had died was to turn back the clock, to show her she mattered more to me than football. To take her on those trips she had dreamed of instead of letting her waste her life following me around.

The slight movement of shadow on the screen made me look up. So much for me being able to tolerate her. She was watching the game from beside me. No doubt some lame attempt at bonding with me so I would cooperate with her. "Football fan?"

"Yeah, I am actually." It was clear from her clipped tone that she knew I was being sarcastic.

"Really?" She placed her hand on her hip, making herself look more ridiculous with the basket still in one hand. She had her stern face on, the one I recognised so well from every other pushy stranger who thought they knew what was best for me.

"I used to think that hat trick was proof that you were some sort of immortal God, now I've met you, I just think you're an ass." She trounced out of the room as though I had actually insulted her, which was new for one of those people. They did fake insulted, but none of them actually cared what I thought about them. She was right though, that game had been sent down by the God's. There was no other explanation. I had been blessed for so many years, then cursed for ever more. The one thing it proved was that she knew football. That game was way too old to be one she had watched just because she was taking a job with me. The only real option was that she had actually watched it years ago. I wondered how old she would have been then.

She looked young, too young to be dealing with my surly self. Her skin was crystal clear without the slightest sign that she had lived any sort of life. It reminded me of Terri's. It just wasn't as pale. Neither of them had a blemish or a wrinkle to speak of. There had been something in her eyes that had told me that she had seen more than most at her age though. The deep indigo blue seemed murky, troubled, too deep for their own good. It was like they didn't used to be that colour but something changed them to be darker. I knew the feeling. Once upon a time, I had blue eyes. They had a tinge of grey but overall they were a cornflower blue. After the accident, they had turned a steel grey and only got darker as the weeks passed. A visual representation of my light going out over time.

It wasn't like I wasn't aware that I had turned into some sort of darkened human. I was well aware. Everything had changed about me that day and not only did I not know how to get the old me back, but I didn't want him back either. That youngster, full of energy and promise. He wouldn't have coped with the life I lived. I might have been willing for death to take me, but I also wasn't giving it a helping hand and had no intention of doing so. The younger me would have jumped off that cliff to join his teammate and his girl in death. I knew because I had thought about it enough times. Luckily for me, I had to stick around for those that needed me for long enough that my heart hardened and my eyes grew dark. If I hadn't been needed, that young boy would have died beside the corpse of his future bride.

I needed to shake it off. The darkness was threatening to engulf me as it did from time to time. I decided the best thing was to drag myself out of bed and go and apologise to the girl with no name. I found her on her hands and knees in the living room. She was small, tiny, breakable even, but god did her ass look good from that angle. I shook my head to dislodge the thought. It was bad enough that I had been an ass without being a perv, too. I cleared my throat and expected her to jump up. It's what the others who had come before her would have done. She didn't. She continued exactly as she was and continued wiping the skirting boards. I was about to do it again, thinking she must not have heard me when she stopped and sat back on her heels. Turning her head to me slowly as though she had all the time in the world.

"Did you need something, Mr Matthews?"

"No, yeah, not really. It's Max."

"What can I help you with, Mr Matthews?" She was enjoying herself. The little uptick in her eyes as she said it told me she was doing it on purpose. Her eyes sparkled like they had suddenly been laced in glitter.

"Max. And I wanted to apologise, I was an ass."

"Thank you Mr Matthews, you are quite correct." I just sat there blinking at her. When she had first come to the house, she was all squeaky and hyperactive. Yet at that moment she seemed so graceful and proper. It was weird, and I didn't like it at all.

"MAX!"

"If there is nothing else, Mr Matthews, I had best get on." My breath was coming thick and fast and I wanted to scream at her more than I already had. I wanted to curse until I ran out of steam. I hated being called by my surname. It was something that the lads all used to do and back then I loved it. It was almost like Matthews was that young man that I was no more. Like I didn't deserve the title anymore. Dickie had even stopped using it and only ever called me Max. Yet that annoying little thing was pushing my buttons on purpose. I apologised. What more did she want? It was more than most people got. For the second time in one day I found myself storming out of the room because of her and the second time it was actually warranted.