A Storm Is Brewing

Insignificant

Saturday morning usually consisted of cuddling back into Leah for a while and talking about the little things that made us happy. Without that routine, everything seemed a little more dark. I decided to take myself for a run, something I often did to clear my head. I ran for miles, not taking notice of passersby or any of the monumental places that Leah and I shared memories in. After over an hour of pushing my body to the limit, I knew I needed to go back. I returned to the house, breathless and desperately needing a shower. I assumed that Leah wasn't awake yet, taking myself to the kitchen and grabbing a bottle of water. I clung onto the kitchen worktop to support my jelly legs as I downed the water, feeling Leah's presence behind me, which only made me breathe deeper. Her arms found my waist, and her head moved towards my shoulder.

"I'm sweaty, Le."
"Just one hug, please?" Leah sighed.
"Let me shower first, if you're getting one hug, then you should at least have a dry one." I said, trying to reject her carefully.
"I don't just love you when you smell nice."

Leah's hands rested on my stomach, her head weighing heavily on my shoulders. I wanted this to feel wrong, but it felt more right than anything in the last few days. This wasn't fixed, though. I gave her a few seconds before I announced that I was going for a shower, feeling her slowly loosen her grip around me. I knew she was upset by my lack of enthusiasm for the hug. I wanted to tell her that I had needed it too, but the word vulnerable came to mind again.

The men's Arsenal team was playing today, and Leah had been excited to attend the game since the previous week. Once showered and changed, I went back downstairs to find Leah still in her pyjamas, a blanket wrapped tightly around her, and her hair poking out from the top.

"Aren't you going to the game?"
"Not going to bother. Can we talk?"
"Yes, but I'll still be here after the game. Go, honestly." I smiled.
"No, this comes first. Sit down, please."

Leah patted the sofa beside her; her attitude had completely changed. She was no longer sad or angry; she was determined. Determined to sort this out, my body began to tense as some kind of self-preservation tactic. I knew this feeling all too well. Taking a seat, I focused my eyes on the coffee table in front of me, not feeling ready to make eye contact with Leah yet.

"I didn't mean what I said; I know that's easy for me to say now, but I didn't. I love you, Sophie. When I told you that you did the most selfless thing by risking your life to get justice, I meant it." Leah spoke confidently.
"Why say it then?"
"This injury has given me time to reflect, and it's given me the opportunity to overthink. You've always thought that you were inadequate for me; I know you have. You've always thought that you had a normal job and that I was something better. The truth is, I'll be a footballer until I'm in my 30s; maybe I'll get some appearances after that on a random Tuesday. Apart from that, though, what do I have? After retirement, I will permanently become this burden for you. Constantly around the house, no qualifications in anything, just a noose around your neck that you have to worry about."
"How is that even relevant?"
"What I'm trying to say is that my comments were projection. I projected how I felt about myself onto you; I felt selfish, so I told you that you were instead. I said everything was about you, but really everything has been about me. People on the outside don't see that; they see me going public with you or me supporting you through those newspaper articles. They don't see the little acts of selflessness that you've performed to ensure this works. I asked you to marry me because that's what I thought was best for me. The time I've had to reflect has shown me that, actually, it should be about what's best for you."

Wait... is she breaking up with me?

"So you're leaving?" I whispered.
"You're not saying much, Soph." Leah sighed.
"What can I say? Tell you all the things I'm thinking for you to just leave? Isn't allowing me to make myself vulnerable before you leave me also selfish?" I felt tears coming.
"Someone once told me that you have to be vulnerable for these things to work." Leah stroked my cheek with her thumb.

I was torn, should I allow myself to be vulnerable to save this, or were Leah's doubts too much for us to recover from? I brought my hand up to place it on top of hers, gently moving it back to her lap and letting go. I watched as her eyes moved to watch my hand move away from her, her face dropping slowly as she realised that I had rejected her offer of affection. I didn't want to do it; I wanted to ask her to hold me, but I was so confused about what this meant.

"I do see where you're coming from, if that helps. I just don't see how you wouldn't know that I would love you unconditionally throughout it all—unless, well, you wouldn't love me throughout things like that too." My words faded.
"Of course I would, I already do love you unconditionally, Soph. I just want to be good enough for you."
"You are good enough for me, though; that's why I want to marry you." I sighed at her stupidity.
"Right now! I'm good enough right now; what happens in 10 years? 15 years? 20 years? What happens if I get an injury that means I never play again? Even if I tried to gain an education, it would take years, and you'd be the only one working. How is that fair? How's that going to look on you? Your firm? The owner of that company is married to that woman who had 10 years of fame playing football and now does skin cream advertisements. Great."

At this point, it became clear to me that Leah wasn't struggling with me. She thought she was, but she wasn't. She was struggling with herself, with her own image, with feeling insignificant. Leah didn't need me to cook her dinner or run her bath; she didn't need me to get her shopping or check in on her every fifteen minutes. Leah needed me to remind her that she was worthy and that playing football didn't define her happiness. She needed to do something that made her feel that she was good at more than just one thing—a backup plan.

"What would you do, if you didn't play football. What would you be doing?" I asked.
"That's the thing; I don't have a clue. It's all I've ever known." She sighed.
"Have you never had another dream?"
"Not really, not until I dreamt of marrying you."
"And you will. You have to have your own dreams too; we can't just live through each other. We have to live our own dreams, but together."

I could see that Leah was getting emotional, and I decided that now was the time to give her the hug that I knew she so desperately needed. I placed my arms out to her, smiling slightly as she looked into the space I had created and back to my eyes again.

"You can't just feel sorry for me all the time." She laughed slightly.
"I don't. I'm cold." I joked back to her as she placed herself in my arms.
"What happens now, then?" She asked.
"I'm not sure; something, though. We have to do something. We'll figure it out though; I know we will."
"I know we will too." Leah placed a delicate kiss on my lips before nestling her head in between my shoulder and my neck.
"Don't get too comfortable, Le. You have a game to go watch."
"I told you, I'm not going. I'm staying here with you." She puffed dramatically.
"You're such a child, but you are going. I have things to do." I smiled.

I knew what I had to do, but she needed to be out of the house for me to do it.