“Did you play in college?”
Again, this question. Always this question.
“Uh, no actually.”
“Oh.” She looks forward to my rental car and side steps a snow pile.
“I mean, yeah, I could have.” I move my hands in my green Carhartt closer to myself and my school’s purple windbreaker. I am always unsure if the lie is worth the cost.
“I wanted to focus on school, you know? I wasn’t a DI caliber athlete [true] and wanted to go to a big school [also true]. I had offers to DIII schools [big lie] but, you know, I just really liked James Madison University and couldn’t say no [kinda true. I loved JMU but I’ve never been a person sure of their decisions. This might explain the lack of athletic success].”
She nods and a small gust of wind brushes the blond hair off her cheek. It reveals her name tag, Mary, which I had forgotten since I met her inside the Enterprise building north of campus. Mary tells me of her career playing DII soccer and how it went. Her annoyance with the conversation bobs just above the kindness she’s selling me. We chat for a minute more about the weather and her playing career and Elmira’s next game before she starts glancing back at the warm building where we started.
“You’re all good to go,” she says, taking a small step away. I know she doesn’t mean it. But I try to make myself believe it. I throw my backpack in the backseat and get in the car.
Good Enough 