AFTER I FINISHED TEACHING FOR THE DAY, I BOUGHT A CUP OF coffee and a bottle of fancy water at Starbucks and cabbed it over to Willowbrook Park. Kelsey played soccer one night a week in an "old fart" coed league and she'd invited me to watch. Of course I agreed.

This was a thing that couples did and a couple was what I wanted us to be. The future would take care of itself.

The ferocity and the pace of the competition surprised me. I'd expected something akin to beer-league softball-brief episodes of clumsy barreling about on the field, a soccer ball somewhere in the mix, followed by long periods of wheezing, foul-mouthed trash talk and sipping from water bottles full of golden, carbonated liquid. I had expected soccer played the same way boiling packs of eight-year-olds did it, only with beer and cursing. These people played, though, like they had something serious at stake-money, pride, memories of former glories. Something more than which team got stuck buying the pitchers that night.

They ran, they sweated, they knocked one another over often and hard. And they were good.

Organized and able. These people had played the game all their lives. Maybe that fact set the stakes. The players needed to prove that despite age and responsibility, there was at least one thing left they did well. Watching the combat, I couldn't remember the last time I'd put that much effort into anything.

Approaching the sideline, I took off my tie and shoved it in my pocket, where I discovered my cigarettes. I thought about lighting one then decided against it. Bad form around people running themselves into the ground. I wasted a few moments sorting through possible excuses for my tardiness to the sideline before I realized Kelsey probably hadn't been standing around waiting on me. She had other things to do.

She wasn't hard to find; I heard her before I saw her. She was clearly the field general for her team. Playing midfield, she worked her teammates, men and women both, from one end of the field to the other. Shouting directions at a full sprint, she led the defense like they were the last of their battalion, fighting for the lives of the women and children. Then, her territory successfully defended, the ball rolling at her feet, Kelsey would turn and unleash the offense, the forwards sprinting downfield like charging cavalry coming over the hill. She held the ball for just moments before she sent it soaring off to land on the shoe tops of a teammate. My girlfriend was the best player on the field. I loved it.

I stood there, my chest swelling with pride, suddenly eager for the players and spectators to know I had come at her invitation, for them to know that she and I were together, a couple. I felt like I'd suddenly found out she was famous.

During a break in play Kelsey finally stopped running. Mud splattered her legs and her shorts.

One of her knees bled. Grass fell from her sweaty hair when she shook her head. When she set her hands on her hips and leaned backward, her eyes closed, the lean muscles of her thighs, calves, and arms rose like swells on the surface of the sea. Her stretch pulled her shimmering emerald jersey taut over her breasts and shoulders. The jersey rode up from her waistband, exposing a few sunlit inches of smooth golden belly. Looking at her, I felt dry and brittle. I was made of sticks and ashes; she was sleek and powerful.

"A lioness," a voice beside me said. "Untamable. Even as a young girl, I bet she was a terror."

I turned to see Whitestone, his hand elbow deep in a bag of peanuts. Though the evening was cloudless and warm, he wore thin leather gloves to hide his scars. His bald head and thick glasses reflected the evening's pink and orange light. I couldn't see his eyes. What was he doing at the game? Stalking Kelsey? Surely she wouldn't stand for that.

"There she goes," Whitestone shouted. "On the hunt!"

Kelsey hurtled by us, her cleats churning up ground as she ran a step behind an opposing forward that had broken into empty space. She caught him in time to intercept and trap the pass from the center. I pumped my fist at her success then groaned when she overshot her own upfield pass and turned the ball over.

"Don't worry," Whitestone said. Bits of red peanut skin stuck to his top lip. "She recovers well."

I glared at him, playing angry at the interruptions. It was true that I didn't want to miss a move Kelsey made. But more important, something in the way he spoke about her made the hair stand up on my arms. His voice had the damp, husky undertones of a Peeping Tom talking to himself at the window.

"I'd really just like to watch the game, Dean," I said.

"Oh, I'm not staying. Just passing by. I have other interests across the park."

With a hard slide tackle, Kelsey sent a woman with a bouncer's build flying head over heels.

Kelsey popped up and hit a dead sprint with the ball at her feet. She covered ten yards in a blink and booted the ball a good thirty yards upfield. A perfect lead for her team's streaking winger.

Whitestone smacked his lips. "She sure can run. It's her greatest strength. She can run forever.

Smart, too. Like she always knows what the other players are thinking. You think you've got her then poof! She's gone." He grinned up at me. "But you can see all that for yourself, I guess."

"No disrespect, Dean," I said, "but it's probably best if you don't talk to me about Kelsey. Ever."

"Not difficult," Whitestone said. "Since Miss Reyes is moving half a continent away in what amounts to a matter of weeks, leaving both you and me to our own devices here on wonderful Staten Island." He offered me the remainder of his peanuts. I felt I'd rather stick my hand in the sewer and I almost told him so. "A fascinating young man, that brother of yours. Between Danny and your grandfather, there may yet be a future for you in our department."

He crumpled the peanut bag and dropped it. Then he raised his foot and stomped down on the bag.

"Better make sure that doesn't happen to your nut bag." He raised his chin toward the playing field. "Halftime. Here she comes."

In all the weirdness, I hadn't even heard the whistle. By the time I regained my senses, my boss had waddled too far away for me to respond to this threat, or warning, or tasteless attempt at humor, or whatever that had been. I whirled around when Kelsey called my name.

She jogged toward me, ducking her nose into her armpit and then laughing, a big paper cup in one hand. Her smile died when she got close enough to see my face.

"What did he say to you?" Kelsey asked.

"Nothing." I reached into my coat pocket and pulled out the bottle of water. "I brought this for you."

"Thanks. That's really sweet." She glanced at the cup of Gatorade in her hand. She took the water from me, stuffing the bottle into her back pocket and smiling up at me from under her sweaty bangs. "I'll keep it for after the game, when I can savor it."

"Works for me," I said. "Maximum enjoyment. That's what I'm about."

Over Kelsey's shoulder, I could see her teammates watching us, waiting for her to return to the huddle. She seemed to sense their eyes on her.

"Thanks for coming," Kelsey said. "It means a lot." She rose up on her toes and kissed my cheek. "You enjoying the game?"

"More than you know," I said.

"Good." She kissed me again, this time on the lips. She jogged back to her team.

Watching her go, her cleats kicking up dirt as she ran, clapping her hands to rally her team, I realized I didn't need Danny to set myself up for a world of hurt.

KELSEY'S TEAM LOST by one goal, scored not three minutes before the ref's whistle ended the game. Despite her intensity on the field, losing the game had no effect on her. I waited off to the side as she talked and laughed with her teammates as they packed up their gear. Most seemed in a hurry to get home. I took her gym bag from her when she reached me. We walked together toward the parking lot, taking our time.

Grammar and junior high school kids playing soccer and flag football monopolized every other ball field we passed. Their high-voiced shouts melded into a musical cloud of nonsense. Every now and then the rusty-gate shriek of an overenthusiastic mother pierced the air and made me cringe, not at the sound but for the sake of the poor child on the receiving end. For the most part, though, the adults just stalked the sidelines, arms crossed against their chests, their watchful gazes trained as intently on the coaches as they were on their kids.

The fathers wore their dark, rumpled suits, the sleeves of their watch-arms rolled to the elbow.

The mothers hovered on tiptoe, eyes flitting between the child on the field and the other cherubs gamboling at their feet. The mothers clutched jackets, sweatshirts, hats, blankets, and water bottles in their arms. Everyone looked so much the same that there was no telling which father went with which mother. I wondered how often the wrong husband, wife, or child was brought home and if any effort got put into finding the right one, if in fact the difference was ever noted.

"Not for me," Kelsey said. "You?"

"What's that?"

"Kids. No thanks. I have no interest." She paused. "You?"

"Kids? Are you serious?" I said. "I can't even manage to buy myself a bed." I thought about the immortal spider plant on my porch. "I can't see myself as a father. I have a hard enough time with one brother."

"Interesting cat, your brother," Kelsey said. "It was good to meet him."

"Yuck."

"What? Please. Relax. I only date one man per gene pool, thanks."

"That's not what I was thinking," I said. "Whitestone said almost exactly the same thing about him." I waited while Kelsey bent to loosen the laces on her cleats. "That guy creeps me out. He makes you feel like you're standing there naked."

"Tell me about it," Kelsey said. She held out her shoes to me. So I carried those, too. "I have no problem being naked but I really insist on deciding the audience for myself."

"He come to your games often?" I asked.

"Yes and no," Kelsey said. "I see him at nearly every game, but he never sticks around. I think one of his sons plays pretty regular on one of the other fields. That's always where I see him when I leave. Over by the kids."

We reached the parking lot. I stopped walking and set down her bag and spikes. Kelsey stopped beside me.

"Is it just me or did we not just have one of those conversations?" I asked, holding my thumb over my shoulder. "Back there, when we talked about kids."

"What kind of conversation is that, pray tell?" Kelsey asked.

"You know, the kind that couples have. Couples thinking about the future."

"It was a meaningless question."

"It so was not," I said.

She laughed. "I wish you could see yourself, Kevin. You look like you just figured out I was your long-lost sister. Am I that scary?"

"You're not scary. But you leaving town gets more terrifying by the day."

"Yeah," Kelsey said, looking down at her feet. "Yeah, it does."

She leaned into me. I put my arm around her.

"There's no point denying we've already gone farther than we had planned," she said. "Well, maybe you. I gotta admit, I've wanted this for a while." She ran her fingers through her hair, stared at her dirty hands. "And now here you are and I got these other plans."

"I'm not asking for anything," I said.

"I know," she said. "I know you're not. And I think calling us a couple is an honest assessment. I certainly feel that way." She set her chin on my shoulder, spoke into my ear. "I'm tired and sore and filthy. Can we talk more about this another time?"

"Sure," I said. "Whenever you're ready." I planted a kiss on her hip as I bent to pick up her stuff.

"You need to change before we head home? Need anything from the office?"

"Nah," Kelsey said. She stopped on the edge of the gravel parking lot, wiggling her toes inside her socks.

"I'm not carrying you," I said. "You didn't even win."

"You sure you don't want to tell me what Whitestone said?" Kelsey asked.

"It was nothing worth repeating. Just bullshit."

Kelsey squinted one eye at me. "He likes to think he knows things about me."

"I wouldn't trust a word that guy said about you," I said. "Or about anything else, for that matter.

Don't worry about him. I don't."

We walked to the car, Kelsey stepping gingerly over the gravel. She took her bag and shoes from me and tossed them in the backseat. She held the passenger door open for me. "Some of the team is meeting up for beers. Why don't we-"

"Oh," I said. "Listen, I got plans."

Kelsey slammed the door. "Okay. I blew off your big relationship conversation and now you're blowing me off. Passive-aggressive much?"

"It's not like that," I said. "I'm due at my folks'. My brother's gonna be there. His first time home since . . . since he's been back." I smiled, touched my forehead to hers. Her skin smelled like fresh dirt and sweat. She had orange Gatorade on her breath. I wanted a taste, but I didn't take it. "Overreact much?"

She leaned into me, applying pressure to where we touched. She set her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes. "You and me, Curran? When we have our first knockdown-drag-out, it's gonna be straight-up volcanic."

"Looking forward to it," I said. "Imagine what the makeup sex will be like."

"Get in the car," Kelsey said, "before I get us charged with a wide array of embarrassing crimes."

KELSEY PULLED THE CAR to the curb in front of my parents' house, right behind Danny's new Saturn. She left the engine running. Halfway down the block, a shadowy figure stood beneath a tall oak tree, smoking a cigarette. Kelsey saw him, too.

"The man of the hour," she said.

"A nervous wreck, I bet. Poor bastard."

Kelsey set her hand on my knee. "This isn't going to be a glorious, hugs-and-kisses reunion, is it?" she asked. "There's a lot of history here that I don't know."

"One day I'll catch you up," I said. "It's quite a story." I covered her hand with mine but kept my eyes on Danny. He hadn't moved from under the tree, probably expecting me to arrive in a cab.

"I hope I didn't make a big mistake here," I said. "I pushed him into this. Too soon, maybe."

"You worried he won't stick around?"

I'd never told her my mother was sick. Kelsey'd watched her own mother disappear and die. I knew I could trust her, but death was a deep thing to have in common. Until she told me she was sticking around, I didn't want too many bonds that hurt to break. On the other hand, I'd already told her too many lies.

"Our mother is sick," I said. "She's got Alzheimer's. There's no time to be gentle."

"Wow. Jesus, that's brutal," Kelsey said. She set her jaw hard behind her words, as if to lock in any thoughts tempted to follow. "We'll talk." She shoved my shoulder. "But for now, go. You've wasted enough time with me already."

I got out of the car. Danny turned and headed up the street toward us.

"Call me later," Kelsey said.

"I don't know how late this is going to go."

"Call me later," she said. "Doesn't matter what time."

I agreed. She pulled a U-turn in the driveway across the street. I watched the neighbors look up from their TV when Kelsey's headlights hit their window. Without expression, they turned back to the TV when the lights went away. They looked like two tortoises at the zoo peering up from a hunk of lettuce.

"You're late," Danny said, arriving soundlessly at my side.

"Sorry," I said. "Kelsey's soccer game took longer than I thought."

"It's all right," he said. "They win?"

I shook my head. "But she is awesome."