Alexandra swiped a down jacket from the living room couch, shaking it out.
"Tsk tsk," said Kira, mock-chiding her. "You're starting to act less like a guest and more like someone who lives here."
Alexandra bit her lower lip. "Well, I've spent every night here since...what, Sunday? I've got a third of a closet of clothes here, a toothbrush, shampoo...so, uh, yeah, I'm starting to feel less like a guest." She zipped the coat, sound of the zipper covered by Kira donning her own overcoat.
"Gonna be colder than an ice cube in the Arctic out there tonight," said Kira. She opened the door, stepping into the hallway. "Careful on the carpet. The condo association had a shitfit once when my old cleats scuffed it up."
Alexandra looked at her shoes, a pair of black-and-green turf cleats fresh from the box. "Seriously? Even turf cleats?"
"My place has decent floors. This thing," she said, gesturing to the worn wall-to-wall fabric, "Probably cost twenty bucks for the whole building. In 1975, I'd guess."
Alexandra had never looked closely at the carpet. Kira was right: it was a brownish-orange monstrosity that put the
bare
in
threadbare.
"And they got mad at you for scuffing this thing? How did they even notice?"
Kira pressed the elevator button for the underground parking garage. "I had an old neighbor. Old as in former, but also old as in once had dinner at the White House when Truman was President. She hated me.
Hated me
. You can imagine why," she said, interlacing her long fingers with Alexandra's.
"Used to complain to the condo board about everything I did.
Miss Manning left her muddy boots outside in the hallway. Miss Manning's pop music can be heard in my unit outside approved hours.
I cannot imagine what Myrtle would have said about last night."
"Miss Henderson makes Miss Manning cum far too loudly, for unreasonable lengths of time, and at
wholly
inappropriate hours," said Alexandra, adopting the same mocking tone.
They stepped out of the elevator, headed yet again for Kira's decade-old Jeep Wrangler.
"The chances Myrtle said the word 'cum' even once in her life are about the same as those of the Pope opening Christmas mass at St. Peter's next month by spreading his arms and saying 'Assfucking. We gather for this sacred mass to celebrate the practice of assfucking.'"
"Miss Henderson talks too loudly about how wet her cunt is, how big Miss Manning's tits are, and she does this
at the breakfast table
."
"The College of Cardinals has decreed that, in lieu of communion wafers, we'll be handing out condoms at this mass." Kira paused. "For the
assfucking.
"
Both women doubled over in laughter as Kira started the engine.
I'm so glad she has the same sense of humor I do,
thought Alexandra.
The same awful sense of humor.
"Hey," continued Kira, "You actually did say that stuff at the breakfast table, didn't you? About my tits, I mean."
"Mhm. Today, in fact."
"And I thought
I
was a fan of morning sex," said Kira. "And had a dirty mouth."
"Says the woman who just had the Pope extolling the virtues of anal sex and responded to my breakfast commentary by literally telling me to eat her cunt while she finished her pancakes."
"They were some good pancakes," said Kira.
"It was some good cunt."
Kira coughed. "Well, seeing as I can't get your mind out of the gutter and on to the task at hand, do you actually want to talk about this team we're playing, or just show up and wing it?"
"Fine," said Alexandra.
Actually, I wouldn't mind showing up and winging it in a recreational indoor soccer league, but apparently this team is so serious that they have game plans.
"OK, so just to warn you, you won't start. We can sub whenever we want when the ball is out of play. We play that by ear."
"Any opportunity for pancakes?"
I fucking know how and when to play soccer, even indoor.
"Fine," echoed Kira, passing a slow-moving truck. "Team we're playing tonight is good. It's a bunch of alumni of one college program. Wisconsin-Whitewater, Wisconsin-Stevens Point, one of them. You get the...uh, point. Bunch of five-nine, twenty-something blonde girls with an idea what they're doing and who aren't afraid to use their elbows."
Alexandra crossed her legs, staring at the highway lights. "So, what you're saying is you'd fit in."
"I've five-ten, thank you. And if I had a Wisconsin accent, I'd probably jump off a bridge. Seriously, you'd think these girls had never left the Central time zone their entire lives."
"So?" said Alexandra.
"Half of them are named Madison, and the other half are named Emily or Emma. They piss me off."
"Well, that part I understand," drawled Alexandra. "I'm sure they like your accent, too."
"Wait, what? I have an accent?"
Alexandra covered her mouth with her palm. "Kira, I..."
Don't say "I love you, but...". Just skip that.
"Yeah. I knew you were from Texas before you told me. It's not much, but it's there." She paused. "And just so you know, I do like it."
"You've distracted me."
"Last weekend, you were literally giving me a striptease while I drove you back from the airport," said Alexandra. "I don't think you're one to complain about distractions."
"Fine, my accent, tell me more."
"You have a little bit of a Texas drawl. Especially after you drink. I like it, especially when I drink."
Kira drove, eyes fixed ahead.
I hope she's not mad
, thought Alexandra.
"I'm glad you like it," she said, finally. "Ever since I went to college, I've been fighting it. Seriously, the judgments people make about women with Texas accents..."
"False modesty," said Alexandra. "I'm from Pittsburgh. 'Go Stillers, ya fehkin' jag-off!'"
"Wait, do y'all really talk like that?"
"Me? Hell no. Some of my friends back home, absolutely."
"I withdraw my objection," said Kira.
"So, these lovely ladies with their annoying voices against whom I get to make my Chicago-area recreational indoor soccer debut. Is there anything I need to know other than that you don't like them?"
"Unfortunately, yes," said Kira. "We'll be a bit shorthanded tonight with the holiday next week. We'll play 2-1-2, so everything runs through Lucía. Keep the ball on the ground as much as possible, and use the sideboards. When we need to flood the midfield, it's a forward dropping back to the wing, not a defender going up. Defense first."
Yes, I know how to play soccer
, Alexandra' mind repeated. "Sounds good," her mouth said.
"OK, now back to my accent and how hot you find it," laughed Kira.
--
Most of what Kira said turned out to be accurate. Their opponents were almost uniformly tall and blonde, and after pulling on a blue jersey, Alexandra started the game as one of only three substitutes.
"So, New Girl, you're a defender?" The nameless teammate was an inch shorter than Alexandra, with a chestnut ponytail and the rapid voice of someone used to hurried communication.
"That and midfield," Alexandra replied.
"Useful," she said, tone softening. "I'm Meg, and she's Shannon. We're both primarily forwards."
"Alexandra," she said, extending a hand. "Nice to meet you both."
"You too," said Shannon.
Five-three, one-forty, but fit.
Looks like she could run through a brick wall
, thought Alexandra. "We'll probably all sub on together, so you'll just switch in for Kira or Mette, whichever one wants to come off first."
