But I do answer calls from my father. Ever since the wedding, he’s rung once a week. We muddle through few mundane topics: the weather (different in Connecticut than Georgia, shockingly), hometown news (nothing’s changed), and how I am (busy). Despite the less than scintillating conversation, he keeps calling. And I keep answering.

Which, repetitive as it might be, is more than I can say has ever happened before. Our most recent conversation, however, ended a bit differently. I tried not to think about my dad’s mention of attending one of my games, mostly because I didn’t want to get my hopes up. But he ended our last phone call with a tentative mention that he and Sandra were planning to come to our next home game this coming weekend. I didn’t miss that it meant he actually took the time to look up my soccer schedule.

They made the puzzling decision to make the fifteen-hour drive rather than fly and were supposed to arrive an hour ago. I sit in the locker room, listening to the chatter of my teammates around me. Anne is not-so-subtly looking at me out of the corner of her eye.

“You really need to work on your surreptitious looks,” I inform her, spinning around on the bench to face my locker and lace up my cleats.

“I wasn’t looking!”

“Anne.”

“I was just making sure you’re okay. Normally you’re more hyper before games.”

“My dad is here,” I admit.

Anne fumbles for words. “Your—your dad? I didn’t, I mean… you’ve never…”

“Yeah, I know. We’re not close.”

“Wow. If you need to talk…”

“Nope, I’m good. I need to play.” I stand, stretch, and yank my jersey on over my sports bra.

Most of the team has already huddled around Coach Taylor. There’s no pep talk. We had a three-hour strategy session yesterday afternoon, and everyone knows what is expected of them. This is just another game. Old hat by now. It’s not a championship, or even a playoff game.

No one wants to risk our perfect record, but even playing at the highest level of collegiate athletics feels mundane after a certain point. I couldn’t have even told you what day we were playing Northampton back when our season’s schedule was announced. Now, I’m focused on nothing but dominating them.

Coach Taylor finishes explaining our warm-up drills, and players file out onto the field one by one.

After attending my first football game at Lancaster, I convinced the guy who announces the football players as they run out of the tunnel to do the same for us. And not just the starters—the entire team.