this is me trying

Epilogue

3 years later

There's a constant calmness in the air. There's the chilly breeze that continuously brushes against my face. There's the icy gravel that crunches under my feet as I walk to the Cafe each morning.

"Hey Chris," I smiled, grabbing my apron and tying it behind my back. I set myself up at the front counter, going through the daily routine that I have loved since I started. Clean the grounds; sweep the counters; count the till.

"Eva, here you go," he said, passing me the coffee he would make for me each morning. The consistency I felt each day brought me back to life. It brought my brain out of the hole it found itself in and traveled me all the way back to reality. I needed it.

I knew that I made the right decision, all those years ago. If I had stayed, playing the game I would always love, I would fail. My heart would fail on me. My brain would fail on me.

I never gave up playing. I would train every day by myself, kicking the ball down to the fjord, down to the lakes, and around the mountains. I trained with the local men's team, never wanting to give up on the ultimate dream: playing the sport and playing it for Nora. There was never anything else to it; all the accolades came after the dream, not before it.

The only people I ever saw were Ingrid, Guro, and Frida. They would visit me each summer before the season would start. I didn't expect them to do it, but they wanted to. They would always say they missed me, but I sometimes worried they only missed the on-pitch me, and not the person off-pitch. Ingrid would say I was delusional whenever I expressed my concern, but my brain never gave up.

I hadn't seen Mapi since. There was something about her that reminded me of her. I needed to be as far away from that as possible. If I was reminded of what I lost, it would take me one huge step backward, and when you're trying to move forwards, that doesn't help.

"Do you miss it?" Ingrid asked me, as we lay side by side in my bedroom. I had bought myself an apartment that overlooked the town of Trondheim. It was the exact place I needed: small but homey, bright but calming.

"Miss what?"

"Playing?" she asked me. It was winter break, and both she and Mapi were in Trondheim to spend Christmas 2025 with Ingrid's family. Mapi stayed back at Ingrid's family home while she came over to visit me.

"Ingi, you ask me this each time you see me."

"And I will continue to ask," she laughed.

"I miss parts of it. Other parts, not at all."

"Well, we all miss you," she answered.

"You don't need me."

"We'll always need you." Each time I saw Ingrid, she would say the same thing. She would ask if I wanted to come back. Then, she'd ask if I miss it, and how life was without football. She questions my choices, but never pushes too far.

Seeing the girls play so well, with Norway qualifying for the Euros once again, and playing like there was nothing faulting them, made me so happy. I wasn't jealous, just proud. I was happy for them, not in spite of them.

Hege left after the World Cup in 2023. It was as if my retirement was a catalyst for it. My name was brought up in a few articles, and from what Ingrid told me, meetings too. But I didn't let it phase me. It wasn't my fault. It was her own.

But I never regretted my choices.

I never questioned my decision.

I was never going to save Norway, or City, or wherever I went. I wasn't supposed to be the protagonist; never the main character. The hero of this story wasn't me. I wasn't it. I was happy living my carefree life in Norway, in the city I grew up in and knew. I was happy walking in the coffee shop, with my friend, seeing the same customers each day.