An Odd Statue

November 10, 2011

NADI: Hamm
Lighthouse United of Portland, Maine v Houston Comets, Fitzpatrick Stadium
Lighthouse 2 (Willie Roberts 8 39) – Comets 0
MoM: Roberts (8.8) Comets Best: Gianmarco De Carlo (6.8)
Attendance: 1408. Referee: Brent Carr.

As their luggage arrived, the players slowly made their way out of baggage claim in small groups, or with an arm around a yawning girlfriend, or carrying an infant who fell asleep before the team plane arrived from Maine. It’s just after three AM and only a few coaches are left, making final plans for when they will meet again in only a few hours. Even the few dozen die-hard supporters who always meet the team’s flight with banners and applause have melted away into the night.

The airport is empty, a ghostly echo of its usual hustle and bustle. There are noises in the distance from the ever present construction, a high pitch whine punctuated every few seconds with a dull thud or two. In the middle of the U-shaped carousel stands Levi McKinnon, his arms crossed, his eyes slowly tracking a couple lonely bags as they move around in an endless circle.

He hasn’t moved for several minutes and while a few of the coaches have cast questioning glances in his direction before sliding away themselves, nobody has approached him for quite some time. Still he stands, only his eyes moving ceaselessly along the length of the conveyor belt distinguishing him from an odd statue draped in black and red.

A tall figure, bald and wearing a dark tracksuit with red accents, emerges behind him and pauses, then approaches. “Lee.” He puts a hand cautiously on McKinnon’s shoulder. “Lee?”

McKinnon turns his head, his eyes taking a long time to focus. “Jay. I thought you had left?”

“We did. But Bones was worried about you.” The bald man drops his hand from McKinnon’s shoulder. “I was worried about you.”

“Worried?”

“Lee. You’re standing in the middle of an empty airport baggage lounge at three in the morning. Worried. How you getting home?”

“Home? I … “ Levi shakes his head for a moment, his eyebrows arching as if releasing something that had been hovering just in front of his face, obscuring his vision. “I’ll take a cab.” He smiles. “I’m fine, Jay. Really. It was … good of you to check back.”

McKinnon leans over, picking up his duffel bag and swinging it over his shoulder while tilting his roller bag back onto its wheels and beginning to walk back the direction Jay had come.

“You’re this way, right?”

Julian scrambles to catch up, his voice confused. “Let us drop you off, Lee. It’s no problem.”

Lee shakes his head. “Nah, it’s OK. I’ll take a cab. Thank Bones for me, OK? Sweet of her to care.”

“Yeah, well, she has a weakness for injured animals.”

“What?”

Julian shakes his head. “Nothing. You’re just … you’re struggling, Lee.”

The two men drew up just short of the automatic doors that led outside. “I’m fine, I mean …” Levi takes a deep breath and exhaled it slowly. “OK. It’s not my favorite time of year, right? And today … we were awful out there, Julian. Awful. What’d we have? Two shots on goal? Three?”

Julian begins to speak, then stops, staring at his friend. “It’s three AM, Lee. We can dissect the game all you want tomorrow. Later today. For now, just go, OK? Let it go, get some sleep, and we’ll come back.”

Levi nods, his lips tight with tension.

Julian takes a step away, making the doors slide open with an exhausted sigh, then stops and moves back towards McKinnon. “Lee, I don’t know what’s going on. And that’s fine. Whatever, I don’t really need to know. But we need you back. We need you, the whole team needs you back.”

Levi looks at him quizzically. “I’m here, Jay. I’m here.”

“Not really. Not for a few weeks now.”

“What are you saying?”

Julian shrugs. “Nothing. Just go home and get some sleep and think about it. We have, whatever, a game every other day coming up. We can’t get through that without everyone on the sideline being at their best. Me. You. Everyone.” Julian steps back towards the door, opening it to the Houston air, heavy even as what passes for winter in south Texas approaches. “Text me when you get home?”

“Sure,” Levi nods. He watches his friend go, and in the blurry distance, through the scratched doors, sees him move towards a bright yellow car. The door opens, and Lee thinks that, just for a moment, he catches a glimpse of copper red hair.

He stands there a few minutes more before again shaking his head and moving down the corridor to where the taxis sit, infinitely patient as they wait for the next customer. He finds one and climbs heavily into the back seat, staring at his face reflected in the window, the lights of Houston flashing in the distance as they wind their way down the highway, a sparse stream of red lights trailing ahead of them.

When he opens the door to his small apartment, he stands in the hallway for a while with the lights out, the door closed behind him. He feels giddy and exhausted at the same time, like he could either run windsprints or collapse, but nothing in between. He fumbles for his phone and sends a quick note to Julian.

Home. And, thnx. C u in a few hours.

He moves towards his couch, deeply asleep before he can find the remote to see what is on.