G - English - Drama/Angst
The Aftermath
Disclaimer: I don't own 'Bend it Like Beckham'. Obviously.
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Part One
Jess sent her foot into the air, making the ball slam into the shrub and bring up a spray of snow along with it. Under normal circumstances, she would have noticed she had pulled a muscle, but these were not normal circumstances she was under.
Right now she was mad at everyone, everything. Why wouldn't the world just let her be?
Snow covered the ground and was sprinkled everywhere else. On the branches of trees, on rooftops, everywhere except on people. If there had been any light, Jess would have marvelled at how pretty the snow looked, making everything glitter and sparkle, as though the stars had fallen instead of snowflakes. Even blades of grass would look spectacular, glimmering in the light.
On her way here, a car had passed and she had noticed this effect on an evergreen tree while the car's headlights had been on it. She had smiled for a moment, as though the sparkling tree had taken a load off her chest.
But there was no light now. Now, everything was dark. The snow looked simply like snow. No, it didn't simply look like snow; it looked like an annoyance. It looked tacky somehow. It seemed selfish, covering everything as though claiming it all for its own.
She slowly walked after ball and carefully brought it back out of the bush. Then she whirled around and kicked it again, not even noticing the pain in her leg. Tears rolled down her cheeks, not from her injury, but from the events, that had taken place only a few minutes ago, she was replaying over in her mind.
"Jesminder, why are you so spoiled? We let you play football, wasn't that what you wanted?" Her mother had demanded. Jess had wished Joe was still there, but Mr and Mrs Bhamra had made him leave after their announcement. She made a tight fist, imagining she was squeezing his hand, but she didn't feel the comfort she felt every time she had before. All she felt was her short, clean nails dig into her palm.
As she chased the ball again and brought it out of the bush, she tried to keep her mind with her body. She was here, in the park, kicking a football into a plant, not back home in the living room, too upset for tears.
"I refuse to let you see that boy again. You should be turning your attention to Indian boys, not him."
Jess grunted as she kicked the ball again. "No, Jesminder, no, Jesminder..." Her eyes were narrowed into tiny slits. "That's all they ever say!" she yelled, not caring if anyone heard her. She could see her breath on the cold air.
The hat she had pulled over her ears was so warm that she could feel perspiration on the bit of her forehead covered by it. With a quick tug, the hat came off and she felt the sweat cool immediately. Again, she kicked the ball, but this time she aimed at a tree. The ball hit it and bounced back in her direction. Jess stopped it by placing her foot on top of it and pulled her hat back on as an icy wind blew her hair into her eyes and almost made the tips of her ears turn numb.
She was even mad at herself. She couldn't help but feel that her mother was right-- she was spoiled. Her parents had let her play football, which was what she wanted. And now she was asking them to let her be with Joe. Eventually, they had agreed to football, but Joe was different. She was sure they wouldn't change their minds. Football was one thing, and an Irish boyfriend was another. They hadn't even said his name.
"He's not a good boy for you, Jesminder."
"You should not be spending your time with him."
"You've loved football your whole life. That was why it was worth letting you play. But think of how long have you known this boy!"
He. Him. This boy. Joe was not Joe to them. Joe was a boy without a name. Without a name, he wasn't even a boy. He wasn't a being.
To them, Joe was nobody.
"But he is somebody," Jess whispered, not kicking as hard anymore. The ball rolled back to her and stopped when it gently hit her foot. She was almost just lifting her heel and swinging her foot forward now. The ball didn't even make it to the tree, but sat in the middle of the deep trench in the snow the ball had created by being kicked over and over again from the same place, in the same direction.
"He's somebody special." She swallowed the lump in her throat. It felt as though her very words were choking her. Then the anger returned.
She kicked the ball much harder than she had before. The ball didn't roll across the ground this time, it flew into the air, flakes of snow that had been kicked hanging in the air behind it for a moment. The ball made a slapping sound as if hit the tree, and before Jess could blink, it returned and hit her right leg, a few centimetres below her knee.
Normally, this wouldn't have bothered Jess. She would give a little hiss as she recognised the pain, then she would continue.
As usual, Jess hissed as she recognised the pain, but today she felt utterly helpless and so something different happened.
She fell onto her hands and knees. Carefully, she got up and walked to the tree, leaning against it and forgetting for a minute about her rage, consumed in the damage done to her lower leg.
When that minute passed, she began to cry, slowly sinking to the ground with her back still against the tree's trunk.
I hope you're happy, she thought angrily, wishing her parents could hear it. I hope you're happy now.