The Beautiful Game 03

M.J. went into the shower. It was just really dawning on her what had happened during the game. It struck her that if she had been watching the game, she would have been blown away. And she felt good about leading her team to the championship and an undefeated conference season. And about having a great boyfriend. She let the water flow over her naked body, satisfied and happy.

After the shower, she dressed, hugged the stragglers and headed out to her parents. Her father couldn't stop talking about the game, and it made M.J. proud. They got home, and M.J. changed into a pair of jeans and shirt, put on some makeup and came downstairs. Her parents were talking animatedly, it appeared, about the college coaches who had spoken to her, and they were beaming.

They picked up Eduardo, who had changed into jeans and a plaid shirt, and had bathed himself in body wash, or so it seemed. Normally, M.J. would have made Gwen sit in the middle, but instead, she squeezed in between her sister and Eduardo, and the rode to the restaurant holding hands, and chatting away with the Tuckers.

Her father pulled into the parking lot of The Main Street Grill, a restaurant a level fancier than they usually went to, and the group parked and walked in. The smell of cooking meat, and garlic were incredible, and M.J. realized exactly how hungry she was. The hostess showed them to a table and gave them big, fake leather covered menus. The table was set fully, and the restaurant was filled with wood trim and fabric covered walls. The food was good, and the portions plentiful.

After ordering, M.J.'s father asked Eduardo about coming to the U.S.

"It was really a long time ago," he said, "I was just 4, and all I remember was a long plane ride, and how different it was."

"Where did you grow up?" M.J.'s father asked.

"Outside of New York," he said, naming a town that none of them had ever heard of.

"So, why did you come here?" M.J.'s father asked, just making conversation.

Eduardo paused briefly before answering. "My dad is a handyman, a hard worker," he started. "His uncle, well not really an uncle, but sort of, moved here a few years ago and offered him a better job, and housing is a little cheaper here, so we moved."

Annette jumped in, "It must have been hard for you moving during senior year."

M.J. noticed something in Eduardo's eyes, but it passed.

"Yes," he began, "it was hard, but we needed to do this. And now that I have met M.J., it is O.K." He squeezed her leg under the table.

"That's very sweet," Annette said, sincerely. "And what about your mother? You have a little sister, right? Does she stay home or have a job?"

Eduardo looked a little sheepish. "Yes, I have a sister, but my mother works, cleaning houses, and doing some cooking on the side."

Annette noticed Eduardo's embarrassment, and didn't want to highlight it, and anyway, she didn't think there was anything wrong about what her mother did. All work had dignity. It wasn't like she or Tom had high powered jobs.

"That's great," she responded, and decided to change the subject back to soccer. "M.J., what do you know about State?"

Eduardo audibly exhaled with relief that the spotlight was off of him and his family situation.

M.J. responded, "Not much. I think it starts next week, but I don't know when, or who we play, or where."

Dinner was great, and they were stuffed when they left. Eduardo kissed M.J. lightly on the lips when he got out of the car in front of his house, and the family drove home, silent and tired. M.J. washed up, brushed her teeth and dropped into a deep sleep.

Wednesday

Never in a million years would M.J. have expected to see what she saw when she and Sam arrived at school. A huge sign hanging from the front of the school saying "Congratulations Champs" with a soccer ball. And the cheerleaders, in uniform, cheering as the students entered. When she and Sam approached the crowd, the cheerleaders began chants that included their names and everyone applauded. It was great, even if the cheerleaders' faces were mostly bored, or even hostile. As if they were unwilling to cede even one day of attention to other girls. M.J. reveled in seeing Dana Angelo being forced to chant her name, even if it was clearly insincere.

It was exhilarating, but not as much as when Eduardo ran up to her and gave her a huge kiss in front of everybody. When they disengaged, to the delight and whooping of the students entering the school, he said, "This is incredible, I'm so proud of you."

She smiled back and said, "Thanks, I never expected this. I wonder what would happen if we won—"

Sam must have been listening, because she interrupted—"M.J.," she said, sternly, "don't fucking jinx us."

M.J. smiled, knowing he captain was, as usual, right, so she clapped her hands to her mouth and shut up.

The rest of the day was filled with congratulations and dull classes. Without soccer practice, M.J. sought out Eduardo. M.J. knew that she had about an hour free before Gwen got home from her afterschool program, so she convinced M.J. to drive them, quickly, back to her house.

M.J. and Eduardo ran into the house, and after confirming that it was empty, kissed deeply and passionately at the bottom of the stairs, their tongues exploring and their hands groping before M.J. led Eduardo to her bedroom. Eduardo had never been in her room before, and it was, as he expected, not filled with too much girly stuff. She had a few soccer posters on the wall, of both male and female national team members, pictures of the many teams that M.J. had played on over the years, and some books.

While Eduardo was examining her room, M.J. knocked him onto the bed, which surprised Eduardo, and would probably have been worth at least a yellow card on the field, if not worse, and landed on top of him. As horny as Eduardo felt, with his beautiful girlfriend on top of him, he sensed an even more intense lust from M.J., who clamped her mouth over his and passionately kissed him, while rubbing her slim, muscular body over his. Predictably, Eduardo became aroused and grinded his erection into whatever part of M.J, was pressing against it.

She shifted her body so that Eduardo's hard on was throbbing against her pussy.

When M.J. came up for air, and stopped kissing Eduardo, he panted, "Wow, what's gotten into you?"

M.J. looked at him with her eyes flashing. "Seeing everyone at school praising us and cheering for us was amazing. It made me feel good, in so many ways, but there was another way that I wanted to feel good—the way you make me feel, Eduardo."

He smiled and they began kissing again. As if without effort, clothing began to fly around the room until the young lovers were naked on the bed, clutching at each other and kissing. M.J rolled back on top of Eduardo and looked briefly at his handsome face, dark hair and skin, and enjoyed the contrast with her paler, if sun tanned arms and paler body and white breasts and pelvis. Normally, she would have reveled in foreplay, but today, now, she wanted to feel Eduardo's hard cock inside her. She reached into her drawer and gave Eduardo a condom, which he put on, demonstrating his increasing expertise.

M.J. positioned herself above Eduardo's twitching member and guided it into her slick pussy, slowly lowering herself onto it and feeling intense happiness. She hoped that the look on her face was mirrored by the look of ecstasy on Eduardo's face. His eyes were closed and he had an enormous smile on his face.

M.J. began to ride Eduardo, slowly lifting herself up and lowering herself down, as Eduardo sighed with pleasure. He opened his eyes and hungrily looked at M.J., reaching out to cup and fondle her breasts as they bounced in rhythm with her movements, which increased in speed until she was pistoning up and down at breakneck speed. Suddenly, M.J. threw her head back and screamed as her body shook. That was all it took for Eduardo to shoot his load into the rubber, and they began to laugh as M.J. collapsed onto his chest.

They laughed, then cuddled and began to stroke each other, continuing to explore and familiarize themselves with every part of their bodies. Eduardo's excitement began to become obvious, and M.J. turned and began to tenderly lick his growing cock. Eduardo was intoxicated with the aroma coming from between M.J.'s legs, and he pressed his face toward her swollen pink lips. He used his tongue to, he hoped, give M.J. as much pleasure as her mouth and tongue were giving him. He was rewarded with a moan, which caused his cock to twitch in her mouth.

M.J. continued to explore Eduardo's cock, feeling its textures, shapes, and learning its sensitive spots, and what made Eduardo sigh with pleasure. And his sighs caused sparks of delight to shoot from her pussy all through her body. She found herself on the verge of a second orgasm, which then crested with waves of bliss that took M.J.'s mind to another, better place, but her reverie was interrupted by Eduardo's own orgasm, and she happily swallowed his hot, thick cum before falling back onto the bed, spent.

Luckily, she was able to stir long enough to notice the clock, and realized that it was almost time for Gwen to arrive. She got Eduardo out of bed, and enjoyed the goofy smile on his face and the look in his eyes as he stared at her naked body. They cleaned up and went downstairs to watch TV and be there when Gwen came home. M.J. was completely happy.

The Following Thursday

M.J. was completely devastated. She had pretty much forgotten what it was like to lose a soccer game. Not that it should have been a surprise, if she looked at it objectively. The team they played, the Philmore Eagles, was the second seed and had a number of nationally ranked players, most of whom played together on the third ranked club team in the state. They were fast, strong, skilled and well coached. And the game was at their home field, in front of their friends and family, while the Rams had a 2 hour bus ride to get to the game. But M.J. had come to believe that the Rams were invincible, and that she could will them to win. Not that she would ever say that to anyone, but in her heart, she believed it.

She could tell that Coach Benson was worried about the game, but tried not to let on to the team. They had practiced hard, and the coach had worked her contacts and the Internet to find out as much as possible about the Eagles, but all that she learned made her worry more. At the end of the day, Coach Benson knew that all that she could do was get her team ready and hope for the best.

And, in fact, they played the game of their life. It was clear that the Eagles' coach was well aware of M.J., and had her marked closely. He also was able to send players to harass Sam, preventing her, for the most part, from playing her usual game. But the Rams' defense held early, Alana, whose ribs were only bruised and heroically had herself taped up before the game, made a couple of good saves in goal, and as the first half came to an end, Sam lofted a desperation pass upfield, toward a streaking, but double teamed M.J. The ball struck the shoulder of one of the Eagles' defenders, a tall, rugged girl who had played for the U.S. Under 17 team, and deflected toward the Eagles' goal. Everyone's eyes turned toward M.J., who was streaking toward the ball, and the Eagles' defense appeared not to notice Cindy Jordan, who beat everyone to the ball and shot it into the lower near corner of the goal as the whistle blew.

That was, unfortunately, the high point for the Rams. The Eagles' all-state striker, Janna Jenkins scored twice after halftime, and the Eagles scored a third at the end, when the Rams were pressing for the tying goal.

M.J. sat on the turf, crying, as the Eagles players and fans celebrated the win, and the chance to move on to the next round. Eventually, Sam came over and extended her hand to help M.J. off the field, putting her arm around the taller girl to support her as they slowly walked toward the sidelines.

Coach Benson gathered the girls for the last time and simply said, "Great job, ladies. You may have met a team that was more talented, but not one with more heart or character. I'm proud of you. Every one of you. O.K. We have a long trip home—let's get to the bus."

The ride home was silent, except for the occasional sniffle. Even when the team stopped for a quick dinner, there was little conversation. M.J. sat, silently, and could barely even order food.

When they got back on the bus, Sam whispered, "I know you are angry. I'm angry. But it's over. Think about something else, for god's sake."

M.J. shook her head at her best friend, but, eventually, closed her eyes, thought about Eduardo and, actually, smiled.

The Next Evening

After moping around school the whole day, despite the supportive comments from many of her schoolmates, M.J. was actually excited, because her parents were out for the evening, Gwen was at a sleepover, and Eduardo was on his way. M.J. had showered, put on some new skimpy lingerie that Sam had helped her pick out, and was ready to order a pizza. Since Eduardo was going to come over at 8, at about 7:45 she called The Pizza Joint and placed an order for delivery.

Eight o'clock came, but Eduardo hadn't shown up. M.J. wasn't concerned, because punctuality was not Eduardo's strong point, and she knew he was riding his bicycle to her house. At 8:20, the doorbell rang, and she ran to open it, only to find Gene Tedesco, a junior who delivered pizza standing there with a fragrant white cardboard box and an impatient look on his face. Disappointed, she paid Gene, including a tip, and put the pizza box on the kitchen counter, hoping that Eduardo would get there soon. Pizza always tastes better when it is fresh and hot, and M.J. wanted to see her boyfriend.

At 8:30, M.J. texted Eduardo, but he did not respond, and he didn't respond to the next 3 texts that she sent. M.J. began to worry about Eduardo, concerned that he had been hit by a car, his body lying on the side of the road, bleeding. She grabbed the car keys and ran out of the house, got into the car and screeched out of her driveway. Driving slowly and carefully scanning the sides of the road, she took the most likely route to Eduardo's house, her heart beating like she had just sprinted a quarter mile. She was worried that she wouldn't find him and worried that she would.

When she arrived, she sensed that something was wrong. It was quiet, and there were no lights on Eduardo's apartment. It didn't make sense to M.J. He had never ignored her before. But she wasn't angry, she was concerned. She rang the bell, and waited, but there was no response. She started to press the button over and over again, hearing the bell ring. Finally, after she rang it at least a dozen times, she heard the sound of someone walking down stairs. When the door opened, an older man, his dark skin creased from years of outdoor work, was standing in front of her.

"Do you know where Eduardo is?" M.J. asked, a little frantically.

"Eduardo?" said the man, pointing at the door to his family's apartment.

"Yes, Eduardo," M.J. repeated.

"No está aquí," he said, looking furtively out the door and down the street.

M.J. knew enough Spanish to know what that meant.

"Do you know where he is?" she asked.

"La migra," he replied.

"Immigration," M.J. thought to herself. "Gone?" she said to the man.

"Sí. Gone."

Although he said it with a thick accent, M.J understood. Tears began to stream down her face.

"You his girlfriend?" the man asked, gently.

"Sí," M.J. replied. She could not move, and the tears kept spilling down her cheeks.

The man reached into the back pocket of his worn jeans and removed a clean bandana, offering it to her.

M.J. took it and wiped her face, smelling the scent of the laundry soap. After sobbing briefly, she handed back the handkerchief and said, "Thank you. Gracias."

She turned back to her car, got behind the wheel and before she could start the engine, she collapsed, sobbing, her head resting on the steering wheel, her body wracked with pain unlike any she had ever experienced on the field.

A Month Later

It had been another bad practice in a bad season. It had gotten so bad, in fact, that Coach Clark had been forced to take M.J. out of the starting lineup, and as a result the team was struggling. Every day, M.J. would robotically go through the motions at school, on the basketball court and home, without any focus, any joy, any interest.

Sam tried desperately to snap her friend out of it, but nothing worked. Luckily, her college offers had come through before her funk ruined her chances, and she accepted a soccer and softball scholarship at a local Division II school. Sam worked hard to make sure that M.J.'s grades kept up, and that she came to school each day. Sam figured that one day M.J. would begin to focus again, and wanted to make sure that the college offer was still there when M.J. was ready.

Sam even made sure that she picked M.J. up after basketball practice each evening. She waited outside the locker room for her friend, and brought her to the car, trying to engage in conversation. But it was nearly impossible. M.J. had withdrawn into herself.

That evening, as M.J. came out of the locker room, her eyes flashed up to the soccer field, the scene of her triumphs, and now the source of her pain. Someone, maybe a kid, had left a beat up soccer ball on the edge of the field, and without saying a word, or acknowledging Sam, M.J. jogged up the small hill, paused in front of the ball, performed a perfect Ronaldinho, and kicked the ball as hard as she could. She stood there, watching its trajectory in the air, then watching it bounce, with decreasing hops, until the ball rolled to a stop, resting in the grass on the dark, empty field.

When M.J. returned, Sam could see tears in her eyes. They silently walked to the car, and Sam put her arm around her friend's waist, both to comfort her and to show her support.

Sam put on the radio, to fill the silence in the car as they rode home. Sam had stopped trying to engage M.J. with school gossip. And she knew not to broach any discussion of Eduardo, because the last time she did, M.J. broke down again.

The car pulled up in front of M.J.'s house. She thanked Sam, and walked up the path to the door. After listlessly greeting her mother, M.J. sat down and joylessly ate her dinner before heading upstairs to her room. She checked her phone, but still, there was nothing from Eduardo. There had been nothing since a text a couple of days after he disappeared from a strange phone number, simply saying, "We have to go back to Ecuador. Sorry." M.J. read that text every day.

She changed her clothing and, as she had every night since Eduardo disappeared, went to the family computer and checked her email. Her heart leapt when she saw an email from Eduardo. Her hand trembled on the mouse as she clicked to open the message.

"M.J.-I am so sorry not to write before this. It was terrible. They came for us and we had no choice but to return to Ecuador. I never told you why we left NY. My cousin Rita was raped by some white boy. But we were afraid to go to the police because we are all illegal. So, instead, some of the men beat up the rapist. My dad was one of the men, and when the police started to investigate, we came here to hide. But they found us. I had to go back with my family. I am sorry. It took me this long to get the courage to write you. I miss you so much. It is hard here. My Spanish is terrible, and I miss America. I have found some boys to play fútbol with, so that is fun, but school is hard. But we are safe, and OK. How are you? Maybe someday you can come to Ecuador and see me? Love, Eduardo."

M.J. sat staring at the screen, reading the message over and over. It finally sunk in that she would never see Eduardo again. Ever. She had about as much chance of going to Ecuador as she had going to Mars. After the third time reading the email, she couldn't make out the words through the tears, and she rested her forehead on her crossed arms, sobbing. She felt a pair of hands resting on her shoulders, and knew that her mother was there.