The Day Hannah Died (wlw / gxg)

The Day Hannah Started Playing Soccer

I have been playing soccer since elementary school when I decided that ballet classes weren't fun for me. Rachel has always been a girly girl. She was my older sister so I would do anything she did: ballet classes, violin lessons, playing with dolls, wearing dresses. But the older I got, the less I liked those things. When I was eight, Rachel and I got into a big fight, and I decided to become my own person. I don't know what the fight was about, but we didn't talk for three weeks. It became an inside joke we still use: when someone is angry with the other one, we say things like "Please talk to me, it already feels like three weeks!".

In these three weeks I decided to quit ballet and start soccer, I gave up the violin and started playing the piano, and I gave all the dresses I got passed down from Rachel to the homeless shelter in our town. Since then, my way to dress is rather questionable, so is my sense of humor. Not so my soccer skills – I am a very good player.

In other words: I turned into a gay stereotype because of a feud with my sister in third grade.

The only sports Hannah did on a regular basis was skiing – once a year for two weeks in winter with her family. So actually doing a sport was a weird concept for her. The first few times she was so exhausted, she went home and didn't text me until the next morning, saying she had slept for 14 hours. But it got better with time.

It didn't bother me that Hannah sucked at soccer. I was happy spending time with her. We got to talking during the hours spent on the field. She told me about growing up in Canada with her parents and when they split, moving to Switzerland and later Germany with her mother. They lived in Germany until the beginning of this year when Ava's father left. After graduation, Hannah wanted to return to Europe to study international law and economics. Not only could she speak three languages fluently but she took Mandarin classes at the community college and thought about learning Spanish. We talked about music and art and books and tv-shows. She lent me books about politics. I sent her music I had recently discovered. She told me to watch Nick & Norah's Infinite Playlist which was her favorite movie of all time. We started watching movies together, mostly classics because those are the ones, I enjoy most.

Ava found a stray cat on the street and Cordelia let them keep her. Hannah later said in a whining voice, holding the cat in the air: "Poor slob, poor slob without a name! The way I see it I haven't got the right to give him one. We don't belong to each other." We named her Tiffany.

After watching The Piano, she asked me why I stopped playing the piano. I began with that heartfelt story about how I even started playing the piano. When I got to the point why I stopped, it got harder to tell. I had given up playing after Elena's funeral. Val – no, Charles in fact, had asked me to play and I would have done anything for Val. I agreed. Which was stupid giving the circumstances that I'm incapable of performing in front of people. I learned The Departure from Gattaca and failed miserably to play it at the funeral. After the humiliation and disappointment, I didn't play again. I couldn't bear the thought to have had let down Elena. And Val. Whenever I came near a piano, I thought about that Sunday morning and just froze. That day at Hannah's reminded me how much I actually liked playing. My parents were more than happy to hear me practice again.

My father liked Hannah a lot. She kept up with many political discussions and international affairs which resulted in long conversations at the dinner table. My mother, on the other hand, kept asking about Libby and Chloe and why they didn't come over anymore. She never said anything against Hannah and yet nothing for her. It wasn't like she disapproved of our friendship, but she wasn't happy either.

I had two theories. One: My mother doesn't want me, her youngest, to grow up and outgrow my bosom friends. Two: She knew or at least suspected I was gay and wasn't all too cheerful about me spending time with a bright, beautiful whirlwind of a girl.