The Trade(111)

“Yes, Natalie,” I snap, looking at her, catching the impact of my words. “We just need to hit pause for a goddamn second.” I pull on my hair again and when I bring my hand in front of my face, it’s full of strands.

Fuck.

Natalie notices and steps forward. “Cory, are you losing your hair?” She walks behind me and examines my head. I know the moment she sees them, the small bald patches where I’m losing my hair from stress. I noticed it in the bathroom the other day. I watched the hair rinse down the drain.

I shake my head. “It’s all too fucking much right now. Something has to give.”

“And that’s me?” she asks, coming to kneel in front of me. “Cory, please don’t shut me out because things are starting to get hard.”

“Starting?” I laugh with no humor and stand from the chair. “Things aren’t starting to get hard, Natalie. They’ve been hard. You’re only seeing the tail end of all the shit that’s been piling on top of me and you’re not making it any easier.”

“I told you I was sorry, Cory,” she says, her voice cracking.

“Sorry is all well and good, but it’s not going to fix this shitstorm I’m living in. Fuck.” I fling my arm out to the side. “I lost it on my team today. I never fucking do that. I don’t ever lose my cool, nor do I get distracted on the field, and both of those things happened.”

Her lip trembles. She takes a step closer. “It’ll get better, Cory. Don’t shut me out now. You yourself said you were glad I came here. The relief on your face when you saw me waiting for you . . . I can see that you need me.”

“I need you to give me some space,” I say, backing away. “I need to figure this shit out, how to make things better.”

“And doing that is by breaking up with me?”

“I’m not breaking up with you,” I say, panic rising in my chest. “I love you, Natalie. I just need to press pause for a goddamn second.”

“You love me?” she asks, almost looking shocked as her arms cross over her chest. “Do you even know what love is, Cory?”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“It means, if you loved me, you wouldn’t be asking for a break. You’d be asking me to help you.”

“I don’t need your help.”

She reels back, as if I slapped her.

Trying to calm my voice, I say, “What I mean is, there is nothing you can do to help. This is on me.”

“It’s not, Cory. You’re trying to shoulder too much of this by yourself. This is not all on you. These are outside factors you can’t control.”

“I can control them. I’m not doing a good enough job because I’m distracted.”

She rolls her tongue over her teeth. “Are you saying I’m a distraction?”

“You’re not helping the case.” The words are flying out of me before I can stop them, before I can consider the consequences of saying them.

“So, you’re telling me, if I were to step away, put a pause on our relationship, that you would be able to better control what the media says about you? Because last time I checked, ninety percent of the stories they print are lies.”

“Natalie—”

She holds up her hand. “And you’re saying that if we put a pause on this—us—you’re going to be able to relax more, alone, in this hotel room, all by yourself?”

“Nat—”

“And if we take a break, you’re thinking that by doing such an idiotic thing, the guys on your team will look at you differently? Like you more?”

I blow out a frustrated breath and then yell, “I don’t fucking know, okay? I just know that something needs to change.”

She presses her lips together and then slowly says, “And that change is me?”

“It’s the only change I can make. It’s not like I can just go play for another team. It’s not like I can quit going to work because it’s hard. It’s not like I can change out my teammates or beg the media to stop being fuckwits to me. None of that is changeable.”

“But I am?” She points to her chest and then shakes her head in disbelief. “You’re an asshole, Cory.”

She starts moving around the hotel room, gathering her clothes and cosmetics, angrily throwing them in her suitcase. Panic consumes me and I reach out, grabbing for her hand.

“That’s not what—”

“That’s not what you mean?” she says for me. “Then what are you saying, Cory? Because from where I’m standing, it sounds to me like I’m expendable, the factor in your equation that could be eliminated making your life easier. You act as if I’m a hindrance rather than an asset.”

“You’re not a hindrance, Natalie, it’s just . . . fuck. It’s too fucking hard, and I’m facing the end of my career here.”

“So, your career is more important?” Tongue-tied and completely panicked, unsure how this unraveled so quickly, I don’t say anything. “I see. This whole thing between us”—she waves two fingers at my chest and hers—“this was what? A test for you? To see if you could be in a relationship? Or was I simply an available vagina to fuck?”

“You’re the one who fucking pushed this into something more.”