Fantasy

Driving home, Carl was torn apart between shock and confusion. Kathy? There was no pretending that Barb had said anything else. Barb would have thoughts that aren’t exactly stuck. She wouldn’t have flown from projecting teenager fantasies. She talked to Andrea and Kathy wouldn’t lie to her best friend. Barb had spoken with knowledge that such things happen. Why shoot the messenger?

Fathers can’t think about their child, can they? It’s not natural. Maybe it’s biologically natural, but it can’t happen. It’s not good! Everyone knows that. It’s just wrong to have sex together. Sex is something…

When it was Barb’s work, the girls called her “Coach.” Carl was her assistant and the girls called him “Carl.” Barb knew soccer, knew how to make the kids work their asses and love them. Barb knew how to drop a corner kick off the net. Carl wasn’t really athletic, but was happy to walk around, the more encouraging. “Good job, Heather. But watch the out-of-bounds.

On the field, Barb was also “Coach” for Carl. “You know, Coach,” he’d confirm that he shipped his group on crossovers. “Not until you see the ball in the air!” Said with certainty. He was hoping the girls knew that themselves. Barb, ponytail pushed the back of her account cap, gave him a thumb up.