PART THREE d - Therapy

  I don't know how to use this damn oracle ball. I need her here, to transte for me. How the hell does he work for her. She doesn't hallucinate his answers. They come from inside her. Well, it sort of works, temporarily at least. I'm trying to figure out exactly how she uses him, and that's got my mind off this for a few seconds. So now, I'm staring at the damn ball.

  He's looking at me. I looked up at him, and warned him with my finger.

  "You. Not one damn word."

  "All right, Ted. How do you work…"

  Light isn't dumb. She's actually smart. She's just emotionally immature. She knows the ball can't talk. Because she's not crazy, either. The answer? Comes from within Lightning. You give yourself your own answer. The answer? Is inside me. I just need to let it out. And, I'm looking at a soccer ball, to solve my problems for me. Oh great.

  I'm looking at a soccer ball, to solve my problems.

  I'm looking at a soccer ball, to solve my problems.

  I'm look---

  I don't have the same problems as some of the other girls do. Soccer isn't my entire life. Its a more practical thing for me. I liked sports, I pyed ball with the boys instead of tea parties and dollhouses. I was good enough at soccer? To get a schorship, so I could have a free education, at a top university.

  My parents, and my dad mainly… would have sent me to college, they can afford it. But, dad has a college degree in agriculture. So, he can run a big farm better. Which is what he was sent for. He would send me for that. And if the person footing the bill wants you to go for X? Well, you major in X.

  I have an actual academic career going. I can look forward to a meaningful masters and even a doctorate. Soccer? Is a lot more of a practical thing for me. Sure, I'm good at it. Sure, I enjoy it. But… its a practical means to an end. Also allows me to take whatever I want to take, not studying cow's asses for four years, to come home and run a farm. Which as much as I love the farm, I'm not sure I want that to be my entire life.

  I have a mom and I have a dad. They're good ones, and my mom is actually my real mom, my dad is actually the guy that banged mom and stayed with her. They also both tried, and they're half decent at being parents.

  So, I don't have half or more the problems the other girls have. No dad, no mom, all that jazz. Once again? Soccer isn't my entire world, its just a part of it. I don't run around like a turbo-slut, and date men I know wouldn't be good choices. I have a serious retionship, and I think I found the one. I'm not looking at soccer to allow me to run around and fuck boys.

  I'm not looking at a soccer ball, to solve my problems for me. I really don't have a lot of the problems the other girls have. But, some of them do.

  Miss Moody was here, just to py soccer. She was good and even great at it. She's majoring, well, was majoring in toe painting. Not just art, practical art. Take away soccer? She has about nothing and wouldn't be here.

  Lightning is simir. Soccer changed her life, and saved it. It got her revenge. It gave her something she needed. It allowed her to be a star again, when she couldn't have boys looking at her like that. A soccer ball? Solves all her problems.

  I'm not even a huge star. I'm important, but I'm a big strong girl who knows that she's a utility pyer. I'm realistic about it. I can never make the Olympics. I enjoy this, and I want to win, so I can get a masters and maybe a doctorate. A winning team makes that easier to have happen. My masters or doctoral thesis, particurly my doctoral thesis? Has a much higher chance of being approved, with one or more championships under my belt. That ring gives me greater power.

  Even if I can parley this into a job as a coach or assistant coach? Team Assistant for a masters job till then… its once again a practical thing.

  If I were to quit looking for who needs help at what, and instead just stand back and squint my eyes… and pick out the girls that… what? Only have soccer as their life, and nothing else? Not all of those need help, true. But all those that seem to need the help, are in that category.

  The coach is going to ask me, is there something he could have done. Something he can be looking for. I'm his psych major, so do I have any insight. He not only made me Light's guard dog and big sister? He has me babysitting his important front line. I'm his adult. I'm his girl inside the locker room and showers, exactly where he can't be because he doesn't have tits. I'm his girl outside the game, where he can't be either. At parties, in css, around campus, etc.

  Hell. He knows there was something wrong with Lightning, his biggest star. He has me on it.

  Well, Teddy. You did it. I figured out how to use you. I kissed Teddy Ball. I have an answer that makes some kind of sense, when my coach asks me what he needs to look for. If a girl seems to have nothing else going for her, but soccer? You concentrate on them.

  I once again leveled my finger at him, and threatened him.

  "Not one word out of you…"

  And I quit crying, then hugged and put my head down on Teddy Ball. If we end up winning championships, and actually setting up a dynasty in the making. And this program sort of becomes the "house that Lightning built"? We're gonna have to bronze this motherfucker, if she'll ever part with Teddy Ball. I'm crying, because I'm guilty and ashamed, over things I had no way of predicting. Now? I have some kind of thread I can follow. I can give my coach something reasonable he can get his head around and work on.

  Coach is gonna ask me now, definitely, to help him look at tapes of high school stars. All of whom, want a chance to py beside Lightning. She's a recruiting lightning rod, pun intended. He's not gonna like my answer there. I think Little Lightning, needs to watch the tapes. Teddy Ball, can help her pick out who she thinks the next stars should be. The coach is going to look at me like I flipped my wig, but numbers are numbers. Teddy Ball? Knows all, he can't be stumped. He's the motherfucking oracle.

  Teddy Ball can find missing centers. He can tell the near future, right before it happens. He can make girls quit crying. He's omnipotent, but only Lightning knows how to best divine his answers. The answers are inside her, but she needs Teddy to get them out of her. Who knows or even cares how it works? It just does. Basically? I'm going to make a case for… essentially, a 14 year old girl to let her teddy bear pick his stars for him.

  And? That he can never say it, or there would be liberal pain in the ass hell to pay, but… girls that come from single parent households? Need a little extra looking at, to see if there's any issues. And that two equally stacked up stars, one has two parents that have no seeming issues? The other comes from a broken home? Go with the Mizz Two Parents… the risk is better. And again, keep it to yourself but there you go.

  No one is going to want to hear my answers, but there they are. They're for off the record use only. And if you want to be nice? Find me an ice skating rink, so Lightning can dance on ice and get rejuvenated, it will pay big dividends. I don't care if its just somewhere the ice hockey boys practice at, that will do. We have a biathlon team here, and no ice hockey program.

  If you really want my opinion? We need a center with a nice personality and two parents that get along, and she actually has an academic career… because if the other one would have had that, we wouldn't be looking for another one already. We need someone who's adequate, to feed the run and gun wings. Not compete with them for attention.

  He's going to ask me how his Little Lightning is doing? And I gotta tell him the truth. In my opinion? Look the fuck out, she's going to go on a holy tear and be more determined than ever. And don't ever bring her mother in for a big surprise on parents night around homecoming game? Or his biggest star will be in jail for cold blooded and premeditated murder, and will say that a soccer ball told her to do it, he's always right, she listens to everything he says.

  Okay, the first part, might leave the st part out. Coach is only human after all. Guess he doesn't need any intimate details about me, her, and my boyfriend and our sex lives either. Poor guy has enough on his pte.

  When he asks is that all? Yeah. Where the hell can I get something that more than loosely resembles ruby slippers. Before Halloween.

  Lightning is asleep on our bed now. Sound asleep. I felt like a mom, sneaking Teddy Ball under her arm. She instinctively felt and grasped him in her sleep, and hugged him in. I don't think my 14 year old is fooling me pretending to be asleep? But hey, what do I know. The kid with the big problems, is fast asleep. The den mother? Is up after a couple hour nap. Great. I'm the new Little Miss Moody now. I always was the Insufferable Cunt. Makes a bit of sense in some way. A tiger can't change her stripes maybe.

  I tried expining it all to him. This one had more problems, that one actually had more. I ignored one over the other… he stopped me.

  "Look. You're the adult. The den mother. You're the therapist now. You're eyeing up assistant, then assistant coach. Maybe coach. You really even want to be a coach? Or is that just Miss Dominant talking. Thought that ends outside the bedroom."

  "I'm on your couch. Go."

  "There's hard facts of life. Here's one. Coach. In charge in the service… all the same. You sometimes lose a pyer. Simple as that. And if you go to pieces? You'll lose more. Lots more. Like… some mom that lost her husband? Couldn't handle it, now her kid's gone. Oh, she's gonna kill herself the quick way, the slow way… but it's coming."

  "I know. You lost your mentor. I get it."

  "Nah. That's not in this. You wanna be in charge a little, a lot someday? You lost one. You'll lose more if you fall apart. In the service? You wanna lose one, not nine more. You made a mistake. You lost one. Try to figure out what went wrong, and apply that to the other nine you want to keep. Because if you can't do that? Those other nine are doomed."

  "That's…"

  "Its harsh. I can't help it. Look. A lot of people in this world. You know the ones. They all have this… little kid, whiny, pamphlet view of the world. This? The creative district. The creative people come here. Whee! There's art… and people, meeting people, and exchanging… stuff. Its magical! You were there. Did you see the magic?"

  "No. Not a lot of it."

  "Me neither. You ever been to Mardi Gras? That's another famous one."

  "Oh. The… week long party, the beads… oh, it looks like…"

  "Yeah. The pamphlet, the brochure. Been there. To me its a fucking cesspool. All pickpockets, hookers, pimps, thieves, con artists, dealers, addicts… but for a couple weeks? Walk around with your tits out, throw beads around, get drunk, get id. The rest of the year? You see it for what it is. A cesspool, ask any big easy cop. That's what they call it, the big easy. Most of the cops are con men and criminals, too. I don't see the magic."

  "There a point to this, or… are you just Mister Moody now."

  "To me, the same kind of people, that are always beling things as… oh, so creative… oh, so magical… they're the people you talk about. Fucking lightweights. The pop psychologists. Couple slogans. A pamphlet, at best."

  "Buzzword bingo. Textbook? Boiled down to a bumper sticker."

  "They're the ones. I say, you lose one? Sad. You got nine more to worry about. Alive. Concentrate on that."

  "And what do… they do."

  "Buzzword bingo? Oh. See, she wasn't a number, she was a human being, she needed this, she needed that. Look, warning signs, where was the care… this is all armchair quarterbacking Monday morning. These people? Never there in the trenches with you, in the game. They flit in a day or two ter, memorized a few bumper stickers, flit back out. They have all these pat little slogans and answers? Never do a fucking thing to actually help."

  "You sound like the football coach. They spend 60 grand, on stupid films. The kids ughed and started doing what the film said not to. He blew the whistle, tore them a new asshole, told them how it was… better. Yeah. 60 grand on… bumper sticker slogan filled, buzzword film… some guy can chew their ass out, tell them reality. Free, works better."

  "My point. He's been in the trenches. He's there with you."

  "Yeah. Hard ass football coach. The Marine. The… film slogan guy? Athletic director. Coach hates him."

  "He should."

  "Coach says, he never coached a goddamn tee ball game, what business does he have, running around with his… films, and terms…"

  "Blowing the budget on pamphlets. Pop psych consultants."

  "Yeah… oh. We'll get another 60 thousand dolr slogan expert. Grief counselor. We'll all get the… put it in the hurt locker speech."

  "Yeah. Heard that one. You just put it in your magic box, and it just stays there, can't hurt you anymore… fucking retarded. They have the balls, to tell guys this shit. You wanna know who got the hurt locker speech?"

  "Who."

  "Army boy. I Mentioned it. His buddy deploys. Overseas. Infantry. They do firefights. Its their day at the office. Cute little girl, ain't got no business being in a combat unit, not like that. She didn't get herself killed? She got, more than nine other guys killed. Went girly girl in a firefight. Weak link. Now? Stand up guys, are standing up. Making themselves targets. So other guys, other stand up guys? Can go run into a hail of lead, to drag this little girl back to safety."

  "I remember you saying. The hell was anyone thinking?"

  "The… bumper sticker people. Girl power. Why, she can pull a trigger. Look how well she shoots that paper. Well? She's a coward, she got nine other guys, more maybe, killed trying to save her. She should have been court martial-ed for cowardice? She gets a medal for bravery. Cause little girl gotta show girl power, so more bumper stickers, and more guys can get killed for this… bullshit. That? Was his buddy."

  "Expins his… harsh on girls thing a little."

  "Well, the nightmare was just beginning. The dead friend's wife? You know what she was doing, while he was getting killed, trying to save a little girl with no business pying soldier."

  "Turbo on. Ouch."

  "Yeah. Ouch. They sent him for counseling. Some… dip-shit consultant, probably gets 60 grand for this css… gives the hurt locker speech. See? You just make this magic box? You bloop it in there? Whee. It no hurt you no more."

  "Oh. I know the type. He compins about little girl going girly, getting people killed?"

  "Oh. He's a sexist pig. Gets written up. Official letter of reprimand."

  "Wow."

  "He compins about what the wife was doing. What guys were showing him videos of her doing? While his friend was shot in the face, trying to save a girl with no business."

  "He got written up for that, too."

  "Yeah. He got a lot of help, from the hurt locker bumper sticker css. Basically? He gets sent to the css, for help. What does he get? Prosecuted. Literally."

  "There's so many of them… the bumper sticker crowd…"

  “Yeah. Kick over a rock? They scatter like ants.”

  "What would you have done? The little girl."

  "She needed to be let go. Everyone else… make it. What was she gonna be doing next time? She already lost nine stand up guys, that were good at it. Now? More people are gonna be getting killed."

  "Hope the girl was worth it…"

  "Oh. Her? Another real piece of work. Same as the wife back home. My body, my rules. I can do what I want."

  "Oh shit… no wonder he…"

  "Yeah. So, maybe just like Little Miss Moody, you understand her now, armchair quarterbacking your big failure to save every st person? He's… like her. Acting out. Has legit reasons. Now? Monday morning? You know his story."

  "Now I feel bad for… him."

  "You were standing up for Lightning. He's tougher, she seemed vulnerable. You made a call. You thought Miss Moody was tough, Lightning was weak? You made a call. Hell, I know his back story? I stuck up for Lightning. So, I made a call too."

  "Did we make the right calls?"

  "We lost one. Everyone else? Seems to be doing great, okay, or still kicking."

  "Lightning… you stuck up for her. Took her part. You took my, vulnerable friend's part. Over your best buddy, Army fighting student. No one ever took her part. Not one boy. You… did it right in front of everyone. Cimed her. Told everyone she was amazing. I… don't have words. Did you know, he's apologized to her? Not trying to get back with her, just… he's sorry. He shouldn't have done that, acted like that, said that…"

  "Well. Him and the boys? Get to spend the next year or two, fucking their way through the rest of the girls soccer team."

  "Who will do to those boys, what he accused Light of doing, and wasn't. Its all so…"

  "The soap opera continues. All around us. Me? I have you. You? Have lightning. I? Got both of you, for now. Until… I imagine one day, she goes out on her own."

  "Or… she gets dependent on us."

  "You're the therapist. I just live here. What do I know."

  "Hmm. You know what she asked me, while you were getting a snack earlier? Before she fell asleep."

  "What."

  "She asked. She noticed, how I kiss you. I kiss… big. And she… kisses little. She asked which one you liked. Should she learn to kiss big like I do? Or, would you like her way, too."

  "I am so in trouble, whichever way I answer that one. Call Vaquera and get it over with."

  "I told her, that you kiss them however you like. She's stuck in that mode. Boys like it when you dance and dress like this. Boys like it when you do this and that."

  "What does she want? What's she like?"

  "She thinks she likes to kiss small. And… she calls it being in the middle."

  "Oh. Cute."

  "It is. She said, I kiss big, and then I only like to be in the middle, one time a week. But, she likes to kiss small, but she likes to be in the middle more, except for her once a week on the edge. I'm pretty sure? She's the opposite of me. That way."

  "Hmm. She was dressing and dancing for boys, even that way."

  "Maybe."

  "Are you asking me? Or telling me."

  "Both. Neither. One or the other. Hell, I don't know."

  "Well, that's a real girly girl answer, isn't it? Where's Vaquera when you really need her to sort shit out."

  "You. I don't remember six weeks going by. You're not supposed to be all free with your sass your sweet mommy appreciates. You just referred to Vaquera, at least twice just now, in a very offhand, carefree manner. That I'm not entirely sure? She will appreciate when she does stop back over for a visit. What will she think."

  "You could guess."

  "Did I hear you tell me no, with a mean voice several times? Or was I hearing things. Grabbing my by my arms. Shaking me. Yelling at me. How many times, have you talked over me, corrected me… I'm quite frankly, losing track."

  "You could be remembering incorrectly, the cop weed was pretty good stuff. You were under a lot of stress. It happens. You interview witnesses? They all say something completely different. In fact, if all the witnesses say the exact same thing? That, is when a cop knows he's getting the snow job."

  "Oh. You think you can just hand me that, did what I had to do, BS… huh? Breaking every rule ever, every five minutes."

  "You sure you're not just making up excuses?"

  "I seem to remember, I don't need a reason. I don't need to make up an excuse. I can just do it."

  "I suppose you could."

  "Or, I call someone up, to have a little talk with you, in private. Whichever."

  "You sure do have an odd sense of timing, to bring issues like this up."

  "Well. That's another issue in and of itself. I don't want to make yet another cssic mom mistake. Worrying about my job, my coworkers. My… kids, basically. And, I run the risk of making sure I do everything? And I ignore you."

  "Aw. Have you been reading those girly magazines again? Well. We're just going to make time for us, and that's that."

  "No, not reading Retards Monthly. But, its not guaranteed they aren't right once in a while. Broken clock? Its right twice a day."

  "Is it now."

  "Simple math, genius boy. You know what else?"

  "Afraid to ask."

  "Hmm. Smartest thing you said so far. We're not so far into your little… self improvement program. That you can't get… corrected. Your little attitude adjusted. And… don't throw Vaquera's name around like its oh, just some slut from the bar. I tell her that shit? I bet she takes your jeans off you. And not the fun way, either. Figures out a couple ways to… get that… tone of respect back in your voice…"

  "You're in charge of certain aspects of the retionship. That among them."

  "I am. And I've been… shirking my duties. Also. Time management and all. Preseason camp comes eventually, then season. You? Will notice a slight… what’s the cool way to say losing out? Something with zip. Like… the athletic director would say it."

  "Oh. You're not losing money? You're experiencing a… negative investment increment."

  "Yeah."

  "Season ends. Holiday breaks. Next summer. I'm sure you'll make it up to me."

  "Hmm. We only have so many… next summers. Before we turn into people with gray hair and wrinkles around their eyes."

  "Well, we have a barn and property by then, right?"

  "We might."

  "Hey. You told me how you're the coach in the retionship. Blow your whistle. Its still a little weird to talk like this, after what happened."

  "I know. I just don't wanna fall into some trap, of letting things slide. While we wait for whatever right time… then next thing you know."

  "Well. Can I at least have… one of those… big kisses I've been hearing about."

  "Hmm. We'll wake the kid. Can, I try one of the… small kisses out?"

  "I guess. But I hate to slum it."

  "Ha. I saw the slums that day in the city, you know."

  "Yeah. I don't wanna have us get degrees, then do the city thing. Have to live like that to get money together… ugh."

  "We should do something little. We should go somewhere local. Any ideas?"

  "Hmm. Yeah. We've been there before."

  "Where."

  "The old abandoned farm?"

  "I remember it. I liked it."

  "Me too."

  "For?"

  "Oh. Technically? If we just walk around, enjoy the pce. I'm happy."

  "Uh huh."

  "Well, I mean… if it happens, it happens."

  "What if it doesn't happen. Still your favorite pce?"

  "Sure. I have ulterior motives."

  "Such as."

  "We py fun games. We pretend things."

  "We do. We also make them very real, in a way. I mean, Vaquera. She's a pretend game, but… you tell that to her, when she walks in and you y eyes on her. Very real, at the same time."

  "No, we were there, twice. I found myself pretending."

  "Pretending what."

  "That it was our property. We hadn't fixed anything up yet. We had to camp out in the house, but we had it, it was ours."

  "That was your big fantasy? Vaquera didn't come walking up over the hill, with a glint in her eye."

  "No. This was after action, during… down time."

  "I'm impressed. Very… I was going to say, adult fantasy? Lets call that one a very… mature fantasy."

  "Oh. We weren't old yet. You still had perk in your tits."

  "Wow. A decidedly non sexual fantasy."

  "Well… Vaquera had her own room, she comes over to visit on her own schedule, I don't know… something like that."

  "Hmm. You made that up. You had a mature, non sexual fantasy. About me and you and our life."

  "Is that bad?"

  "No, its very good. Which gets you into even more trouble, and Vaquera is going to take your jeans off twice in a row now, for that."

  "How did that work."

  "You? Were in trouble. I was scheduling in… talk time. You go and pull that, to try to be nice, and get out of it. That's a very punishable offense."

  "Well, that's you and your whistle. Are we going ourselves? Picnic and whatever else."

  "Hmm. No kid?"

  "You call it. I feel guilty if I don't wanna take the kid."

  "I don't know. She had a bad day. Peace and quiet, no commotion? Might not hurt. She could benefit from seeing… the mature side of our retionship. That not all our fantasies are… of a sexual nature. We can still go for a hike."

  He smiled.

  "A compromise. I like it."

  "Yes. I'm compromising right now, too."

  "How's that?"

  "Because…"

  I leaned into his ear, and told him exactly what I wanted, and precisely which naughty games I would be pulling right now, if the kid wasn't sleeping on the bed.

  "You're rotten."

  I smiled.

  "The worst."