The Burden of Secrets

Chapter 4

I had been friends with Mercedes Banks since we were four years old.   We had met at the same pre-school football team and had been best buddies ever since.

We played football together on the same team all the way up until we were 11 and they split the teams into genders.   It was a total loss -Mercy could outplay all of the players on our team and most of the players I'd come across since.  I would never admit it to her face, but she was better than me.   My size and strength meant I excelled more in physical games but Mercy was just lightning.  She could run on to any ball a winger could put forward and was deadly accurate in front of goal.

She played for Arsenal Ladies U17's, one of the best teams in the country, and luckily only an hour away from where we lived on the outskirts of London.  She was trialling for the Development Squad in a few months and I think I was as desperate for her to get in as she was.

Mercy's house was like my second home.  I threw myself down on her bed, running my fingers through her familiar, fluffy comforter.  I closed my eyes for a second and let a wave of tiredness wash over me.  I felt strangely soothed by the sounds of the shower running down the hall.  The soft drumming lulled me into a sleepy state.

A few minutes later the door opened, but I didn't bother opening my eyes.

"You can open them if you like, I got dressed in the bathroom."

I opened one eye and saw Mercy dressed in her pajamas-soft velour shorts and a strappy top with flowers printed on it.

"Is it bedtime?!"

"Ha ha." Mercy stuck her tongue out.  She always changed into PJ's whenever she was at home, regardless of the time.  She was militant about her commitment to nightwear.

I propped myself up on one arm as I silently watched her putting some hair product through her wet, light brown curls.  I saw her reflection from the mirror, her brow furrowing above her deep brown eyes as she set to her task.  Those same eyes suddenly met mine in the mirror and she span around, still working her hair with her hands.

"So, how come you didn't go training today?"

I grimaced. "Because my Mum is an over protective wet blanket."

Before I could explain, my phone began to ring.   I pulled it out of my pocket.

Mum.

It was as if she knew I was talking about her.

I clicked decline and threw it on the bed.   I knew I was being childish but couldn't summon up the energy to care.

"Asthma attack?" She grabbed a jar of cocoa butter and started rubbing it into her legs.

"I'd hardly call it a full blown attack.... But yeah."

"Shit Zee, that's not good."

"Yeah, but I was feeling fine this morning but Mum went and rang Fishy and told him I wasn't allowed to train.  She is unreal."

"Ah, she just loves her ickle baby boy so much, that's all."  Mercy's high pitched tinkling tone forced a smile out of me.  I threw a pillow at her that landed a mile away.

"And that my friend is why you are a footballer and not a rugby player..." She grinned, slathering more cream on her legs.

My phone beeped: a message.  I sat up and stretched as I read it.

Mum: Where are you?   I was expecting you home.  Answer your phone.

I was too annoyed with her to speak right now.  But that wasn't the only reason that I didn't want to go home right now. I didn't want to go home and deal with what was happening to Dad.  I am such a coward. I pushed the horrible thoughts away and turned the phone to silent.