AR - Winter Soccer

Talking about winter soccer brings up all kinds of great memories.

You snuggle closer to Adella, who wraps her arms around you as you tell her about it. You remember the noises that your sneakers would make in the gym, and the sounds of the ball bouncing off the walls.

“There was this girl on the Church Team that I hated so much,” you say, pausing as someone honks a car horn on the street. Adella’s apartment is on the second floor of a building very close to the university. It’s actually only like fifty feet away from your favorite coffee shop, and you’re already thinking about having breakfast with her there tomorrow. You’ll have a chocolate chip muffin and a huge coffee with lots of whipped cream. You are so excited.

“Go on,” Adella says, stroking your hair.

“Oh, right. I hated her back then, but we were little. It was like a rivalry, but I wonder if I didn’t just have a crush on her. She was pretty,” you say with a wry smile.

“I’m sure you were pretty.”

“Uh, actually,” you say, cringing. “I had braces and stuff at the time, and…” She stops you with a kiss before you can go on. “Winter League is lots of fun,” you say when she lets out you. You beam at her. “You’re going to have a good time.”

“It’s like children’s sports,” Adella says, rolling onto her back and putting her hands under her head. You cuddle up to her. “People just want to see their children play. It’s not competitive, is it? Why do they even need a coach?”

“Hmm. We practiced a few times,” you say, absently running your hand over her body. You rest it on her boob, and she gives you a look. “But I do remember that the adults were fired up. They were really into it. The parents of the Public School kids really wanted to beat the Church Team, and their folks were the same way. I’m sure it had something to do with local politics, now that I think about it.”

“Your town has strange laws,” Adella says, referring to the ancient, terrible ordinances against pretty much all romance that is not a straight man and woman doing it missionary style after ten years of marriage. Being openly gay isn’t allowed in the Gurlberg city limits, and even sex toys are technically illegal. The town’s tiny police department will not hesitate to write you a ticket for public lewdness.

“I know there was some drama back then, but I was little. Mom might remember more,” you muse. “But it’s like this, Adella. There’s three thousand people in Gurlberg. And about three hundred of them go to that church. But all those people are on the city council and the ones in charge. The chief of police goes there. So it’s a tiny minority, but they have all the authority. That bugs some people,” you say with a shrug.