Lexi was ten years old when I married her mother Marilyn. I'd been coaching Lexi's girls' soccer team for two years. Frank Drake, one of the partners at the engineering firm where I worked, maneuvered me into coaching. Frank took me out to lunch one day and told me his daughter had just joined a team in the local girls' league.
"The only thing is," Frank said as we ate, "it's a new team, and they could really use a coach, especially someone with competitive experience."
I went through college on a soccer scholarship at the University of North Carolina; my competitive career ended when I tore an ACL during my senior season. After skillfully luring me into the trap, Frank closed it mercilessly.
"You've done a lot of good work since you've been with us, David," he said with a big smile. "We don't just decide partnerships based on your work product, though. There's the amount of business you're able to cultivate, of course, and we want men and women who are truly committed to the community, people we know are with us for the long haul. You understand what I mean, don't you, David?"
I didn't need to have an anvil dropped on my head to get his point.
Lexi was a standout from day one. She was a head taller than the rest of the girls on the team and she flew around the field, her fiery red pigtails streaming behind her. Beyond her natural ability, she never had to have any instruction explained more than once. I even noticed her demonstrating the moves I'd just shown to the other girls playing her position. Some days, she convinced me to stay after practice and show her moves I hadn't shown the other girls. She was an excellent learner, soaking up everything I taught her like a sponge.
Each time we worked together after practice, I'd see Lexi's mother, Marilyn Miller, waiting patiently by her silver station wagon, usually talking on or poring over her cell phone. One day, after we finished working out, I walked Lexi over to the car and introduced myself. Marilyn was a very attractive woman, in her mid-thirties with shoulder-length auburn hair and beautiful green eyes. Marilyn and I began having friendly conversations after every practice. As our first season was drawing to a close, I walked Lexi over to her mother's car after practice one evening.
"My mom wants to have dinner with you," she said, out of nowhere.
"Pardon me?" I said.
"We talk about you, sometimes," Lexi continued as if I hadn't spoken. "She likes you. She thinks you're cute. I do too. Don't you think my mom's cute?"
"She's very cute, I mean attractive," I said, disconcerted by the eight year old's directness.
"Are you dating anybody?" she asked.
"Well, no," I said. Truthfully, I'd focused so much on work since I started with my firm I hadn't looked very much at women. I'd hang out in bars with co-workers after work once in a while, but I never enjoyed the idea of picking someone up in a bar. I refused to consider dating a co-worker; my parents divorced when I was twelve after my father had affairs with two of his co-workers. Outside the office, I spent much of my time surrounded by eight to ten year old girls. I had been the subject of some mild flirtations from some of the team moms, both the single and married ones, but I never felt like pursuing the opportunities that presented themselves.
Interestingly, Marilyn was never one of the flirtatious ones. Our relationship to that point was friendly, but she never hinted that she might be interested in anything more than a casual friendship. I'd heard from one of the other mothers that Marilyn was an up-and-coming real estate agent in town, so I figured that she, like I, spent a lot of her time working. After my conversation with Lexi, I approached Marilyn while Lexi stowed her gear in the back of the station wagon.
"I think your daughter is trying to set us up," I said with a smile. Her cheeks actually flushed red.
"She worships you a little," she said with the hint of a smile. "You walk on water, as far as she's concerned. I think she's been feeling the lack of a father figure more and more recently."
"I'd noticed that I haven't seen her father out here, but I didn't feel like it was my place to ask you about it."
"Jim passed away five years ago, when Lexi was three. He was diagnosed with a congenital heart defect when he was in high school. His heart failed while he was out running one morning. She only has the vaguest memories of him, along with the home videos we made as she grew up."
"It's good she has those," I said, "even if they aren't a substitute for having her father there. What about you, Marilyn? Are you still feeling the loss of your husband?"
"Of course," she said, looking past me toward the empty field. "I had to go build a career after Jim passed away. Between work and raising Lexi, I haven't had a lot of time to date. It would be nice having someone around to share things with."
"Would you like to have dinner with me after the last game of the season?" I asked, smiling at her.
"I'd like that very much," she said, smiling back.