WOSO Imagines

End of the World (Maya Le Tissier)

I grew up surrounded by athletes. All of my siblings played multiple sports, and so I got used to the crazy schedules, weird diets, injury protocol, and emotional rollercoasters that came along with it. I was never a very athletic person, finding comfort and fulfillment in music and art, but I was still well-versed in the world of sport, and so it wasn't surprising when I fell for a footballer, especially given how small of a town I came from.

The first time I saw Maya, I had gone with my brother to the park where he and some year 12 mates wanted to hold a pick-up game. He reluctantly let me come to sketch the game. After about half an hour, a girl I recognized from the year above me came over and asked if she could join them. They all scoffed at her, but agreed, probably wanting her to make a fool of herself. She ran circles around them, literally and figuratively. She knocked my brother flat on his ass quite a few times, and he was the best of all the boys in Guernsey.

A week later, we went back, and again she played with them. This time, they didn't take it easy on her, but that didn't stop her. Instead of drawing the boys, I started to draw her. Every week, I'd sit under a twisted old oak and watch them play, admiring her, trying to perfectly capture her swagger and determination, as well as the ways her eyes crinkled when she smiled.

It wasn't until the fourth Sunday scrimmage that I worked up the courage to talk to her.

"You know, Georgie's been out in the back garden doing extra practice to prepare for this game," I told her, handing her her water bottle after a particularly brutal one. "He can't let anyone beat him, especially a girl. He's just toxically masculine that way."

She just laughed. "He's a tough opponent, I'll give him that."

I offered a handshake. "I'm Maddie."

"Maya." When she shook my hand, a bolt of electricity shot through me. "Do you play?"

"God, no. All my siblings do. I'm the youngest of five, and the only one who would rather paint than sweat."

"Is that what you do every afternoon?"

"You noticed me?"

"Of course, I did. Your nose always scrunches up when you're concentrating, like a bunny. It's very distracting."

My face turned bright red when she said that. "Actually...I've been drawing you."

Her eyebrows went high. "Really? Show me."

"It's not finished though. It's hard to accurately sketch a moving target."

"Are you doing anything this evening?"

"No. Why?"

"I just thought you could come back to mine, I could sit for my portrait," she said with a grin that made my heart skip a beat.

"That'd be cool."

And I did just that. We sat and chatted for hours. I finished the drawing the next week, but still went to the games to watch her, accompanying her home to have a cup of tea and a laugh. And then she got called up for the under-16 boys, signing for Brighton soon after. She left Guernsey before I had the chance to tell her how I felt.

It wasn't until a year later, when she returned home for the holidays, that I saw her again. I was in the park with George, having a kick about, when suddenly...

"Mind if I join you?"

I froze. "Maya."

"Hi."

I don't know why, but I ran away from her. I was pissed. I thought she felt the same way I did but then she left without so much as a goodbye, and now she had the audacity to just show up as if nothing had changed?