La Reina | The Story of Melanie Kavitz

interlude: argentina vs senegal

June 7, 2022

"Kavitz - over here!"

Training was going absolutely painful for me over the last hour; I'd missed 50% of the shots Carli and Weston were passing to me, I'd made an ass of myself in front of Ethan and Matt in goal, and I let Alex dribble all over me on the field. The lack of sleep from the previous night is really getting to me, given that I hadn't been able to go back to bed after waking up to my panic attack.

And now... Bradley noticed.

Begrudgingly, I run over to him. My other teammates don't say anything, but they know just as well that I'm completely off my game today and my incompetence on the training field is affecting their training as well. What's the use of training with me when I'm performing like utter shit?

"Are you alright?" Bradley knows that off-days almost never happened with me unless something incredibly drastic occurred, and the concern in his eyes is evident.

"I... I couldn't sleep last night." I have to tell him the truth. "The phone rang, and because I didn't have it on silent... I woke up to it ringing in the middle of the night and I had a panic attack."

"Shit..."

He knew. He knew about my irrational fear of the phone ringing in the middle of the night. I told him almost immediately I got diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder almost a month after Brandon was killed. The triggers, the flashbacks I was getting throughout the days when the news was fresh, the absolute depression I went under while trying to cope with my new reality... I don't know how I survived any of it. "Why didn't you call me?"

"... It was the middle of the night, Bradley. Why would I call you?"

"What about Masche? Why didn't you call him?!"

"Because it was the middle of the night!"

"But..."

The frustration in both of our voices is evident. I needed help, but who could've helped me in the middle of the night - especially when an incident like that didn't usually happen? I forgot to turn my ringer off for one night, and it proved to be incredibly costly. How could one prepare for something that almost never happens? And how can one be expected to help when it's just not reasonable? "Bradley... it's okay. It was my fault; I should've checked to see if my phone was on silent."

"No... don't blame yourself," Bradley sighs as he places a hand on my shoulder. "I'm going to have you take it easy over the next little while; I know you're going to fight me on this, but it might be a good idea to start you on the bench for the final."

Oh, fuck yeah I'm going to fight him. "Bradley, I'm fine -

"I know that, but I'm not taking any chances," he says firmly. "You had a panic attack, training didn't go well today, and what you need to focus on is your mental space. I know better than anyone how you make the team better no matter what condition you're in, but I'm not compromising your health. It's not worth it."

I want to keep fighting him on it, but a part of me knows he only wanted to do what's best for me - even if it goes against what I want or think I need. And he's right - training going awful today put me in a massive setback, regardless of our opponent in the final. I wouldn't be in the proper mental space to go into the starting lineup. "Okay."