Kulti

by Mariana Zapata

To be prepared for war is one of the most effective means of preserving peace.

Damn it. She had me, and from the smirk on her face, she knew it. My mom had busted out the pictures of me in my younger days during a visit Jenny had taken back home with me. In several of them, my Kulti obsession was well-documented. I think it was the three birthday cakes in a row with his face on them that really sealed the deal.

To my absolute horror, my inner thirteen-year-old, the one that had planned on marrying this guy and having soccer-playing super-babies with him, peeked in and reminded me she’d been around once. I’d swear on my life that my heart clenched up and my armpits started sweating simultaneously. The best term to describe what was going on with me: star struck. Totally star struck. Because… Reiner Kulti. The King. The best player to come out of Europe in…

holyshitit’sKultistandingrightthere. Poop. He poops. He poops. Right. That was all I needed to snap out of it. I pictured an image of him sitting on the porcelain throne to remind me he was just a normal man with needs like everyone. I knew this—I’d known this for the longest. He was just a man with parents that pooped and peed and slept like the rest of us. Poop, poop, poop, poop, poop.

It was the worst non-break-up ever in the history of imaginary relationships with a man who didn’t even know I existed.

He’d said, “people are going to judge you regardless of what you do, Sal. Don’t listen to what they have to say because at the end of the day, you’re the one that has to live with your choices and where they take you. No one else is going to live your life for you.” Most times it was easier said than done, but here I was. I’d gotten what I had worked so hard for, so it hadn’t been in vain.

“A dream is just a wish without a plan.” After you hear it enough times, it grows on you and the older you get, the more you realize how true the words are.

His pleased little baby grin said everything, and he finally nodded once in

acceptance. “Fine. We’re going to win anyway.” “Duh.” Like anything else was even a possibility. I put my hand up and shoved his shoulder before I even realized what I was doing, and I froze. Then I snatched it back and frowned. “Ahh, sorry.” Anddd this was awkward. I don’t know what I was expecting him to do, but flashing a grin at me so wide I swear my heart stopped, wasn’t it. I’d seen him win championships on television before, of course he’d been smiling then but… what just came across his face so abruptly was beyond unexpected.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he burst out. I took a step back and gave him a crazy look because seriously, what else did he want from me? “No.” “I’m threatening to bench you, and you’re complaining about who overheard?” I’d bet a dollar that my hair kind of blew back a little bit at his question, but I wasn’t going to puss out. No fear. “Yeah, I am. If I’m playing bad consistently, then I don’t deserve to start. That sucks, but I understand. I’m not going to argue with you over an obvious fact. What I do have a problem with, is you being rude to me in front of other people, and you were a dick to her. Jesus F. Christ. Manners, Germany, ever heard of them?” Kulti didn’t hesitate to throw his hands up behind his head. The short brown strands crept through his fingers. “I want to shake you right now.” “Why? I’m only telling you the truth.” “Because—“ he snapped something in German I thought was the equivalent of

‘fuck’, “—you’re going to sit there and let me take this away from you? Just like that?” he growled. “Yeah, I am. What do you want me to tell you? Do you want me to beg you? Get mad? Throw a fit and stomp off? I understand. I get it. I played one bad game; I’m not going to play two. That’s fine. It’s your tone and choice of where we’re having this conversation that I have a problem with.” He might have started pulling on the shortest of short ends of his hair in what was a mix of annoyance and frustration. “Yes, goddamnit, get mad! If my coach had ever even hinted at taking me out of a game, I would have lost it. You’re the best player on the team—“ I’d swear on my life that my heart stopped beating. Had he just said what I think he said? “You’re one of the best I’ve ever seen, period, man or woman. What kills me is that you are a complete fucking pushover who’s hung up on worthless words in front of a person that doesn’t matter.” His cheeks were flushed. “Grow some balls, Casillas. Fight me

for this. Fight anyone that tries to take this away fr...

Oh my God. That made me burst out laughing. “You make it sound like I hit up retirement homes for dates. Those men are probably only a couple years older than you are, so think about that, creaky knees.”

“You know your reputation is just what everyone else thinks of you, your character is what you really are.”

schnecke.

“Are we fine now?” he asked earnestly, expectantly.

Were we? I knew what the polite thing to say would be, but I wasn’t a liar. At least I wasn’t usually. I told Kulti the truth. “Mostly. You’re still a jackass for what you said, but I’ll forgive you because I know you were upset and some people say things they don’t mean in the heat of the moment. So as long as you

don’t say something so stupid again, I can live with it this once, Reindeer.” The look he gave me was blank for so long, I wasn’t expecting him to react the way he did. I thought for sure he’d argue with me some more about how I needed to ge...

Instead almost a minute after I finished talking, the doors were opening to the main level of the office building; Kulti burst out laughing. I swear he said someth...

I had no idea what I was getting myself

into. Not a single freaking clue.

Something came down over my eyes and I realized that the German had pulled his beanie down over my head. “Hold this,” he

said, continuing to tug the material down over my nose.

Dear God. A man like that making kissing sounds at what I could only guess was his baby. My vagina, my vagina didn’t know what to do with itself.

“Eyes up here, Taco.” I wanted to die.

“You’re the best striker in America, schnecke. Look up ‘best goals in women’s soccer’ and four of the top ten are yours. I wasn’t going to waste my time on anything or anyone but the best. With more training, better coaching, you could be the top striker in the world.” He wasn’t going to… It’s like my brain stopped working. I opened my mouth and closed it, at a complete loss for words. “I came to the Pipers for you.”

step forward and he did it. He wrapped his arms around my shoulders, bringing me in so close my nose was pressed against the cartilage right between his pectorals. He was hugging me. Dear God, Reiner Kulti was hugging the shit out of me.

I just stood there with my arms at my sides, frozen. Completely freaking frozen in place. I was stunned, beyond stunned. Stupefied. “Hug me back,” the accented voice demanded from up above. His words shook off my paralysis. I found myself wrapping my arms around his waist, gingerly at first, our chests meeting in a real honest hug. My palms went flat against the twin columns of his lower back, arms overlapping. “Am I dying and I don’t know it?” I asked his chest. He sighed. “You better not be.”

Now, I understood. I had loved Reiner Kulti as a kid. I had loved my ex-boyfriend as a young adult, learning and growing. And the Sal Casillas I was today knew that I couldn’t love someone who didn’t deserve it. It was the shoes for the kids whose parents couldn’t afford them that tied the noose around my neck. Him bringing his friends to my soccer camps. Kulti buying my dad the trip of a lifetime. Calling me his friend in front of people that he genuinely knew he didn’t give a single shit about.

I was in love with this pumpernickel. God help me, I think I wanted to cry.

When one door closes, another one opens. I might just have to do a little breaking and entering to get the right one for me.

stop smiling. And he noticed. “This isn’t meant to be funny. Why are you smiling?” “Because.” “What?” I rolled my lips over my teeth and gave him an even look. “I watched this one game where your teammate, Keller, got tackled and had four of his vertebrae dislocated. The camera zoomed in on you, and you were retying your cleats or something. I don’t know why I just remembered that. Two of my favorite things about you were that you never gave a single shit what happened to anyone else on the field, and that you never missed games unless you couldn’t walk. It’s impressive, really. It makes me feel really special that you care about me.” “I care about things,” he argued. “Oh? Like what?” “Winning.” I bit my lip to keep from laughing. “Okay.”

“My fish.” His fish. Jesus Christ. Kulti blinked slowly and didn’t say anything for a long time even as I made sure to keep watching him with an expectant look on his face. When he finally answered, it caught me off-guard.

“You.” Me. Wa...

“No. You mean so much more to me, and you know it.”

“My schnecke. My little snail, do you know that’s what it means? It’s a term of affection in my country. My love. My snail. I don’t want to waste more time. I have nothing to hide and neither do you.”

“No, it’s not. We’re friends. You said I was your best friend, remember? You can love me but not be in—“ I couldn’t say it. I shut my mouth and gave him an exasperated look. “I can and I am. When you love something you do whatever you need to do to protect it, isn’t that right?” He tilted his face down, making sure our eyes were meeting. All I could manage to do was stare and hyperventilate. He nodded, his big hands kneading my arms. “You’re supposed to say, ‘Oh yes.’”

“You know, Sal. It’s why we fight and make-up. Why we’ll always fight and make-up. You were the one that said to me that you fight with the people you love the most, remember? You and I fight all the time, see?”

Then he kissed me. Unexpectedly, out of

the blue, sudden as a heart attack.

Reiner Kulti, my German, my pumpernickel, pressed his lips to mine. The same lips

I’d kissed a minimum of fifty times on the posters that had once been on my wall. His mouth was warm and chaste, pressing, pecking, one, two, three, four times. He kissed one corner of my mouth, then the other. Holy mother of God, I was a sucker for those corner kisses.

I opened my mouth just a little and kissed him back. Our kisses were a little more open-mouth than closed. Five, six, seven, eight times he let me press my lips to his. He let me be the one to kiss him back. Nine, ten, eleven times, right under his lips, on a chin that hadn’t gotten the memo it had been shaved that morning. His breath rattled in his chest as he pulled back, eyes closed, mouth firm and tight. My heart ran and ran and ran. Without thinking about it, I put my hand on his chest and felt. I felt the furious pounding beneath all that muscle and bone, just like mine. Excite...

This,” he pointed between us. “This is what matters. You are my gift, my second chance, and I will cherish

you and your dream. I will protect both of you.

“I’ve been waiting, and I will keep on waiting until the time is right. You are my equal, my partner, my teammate, my best friend. I’ve done so many stupid things that you’ve made me regret—things I hope you will forgive me for and look beyond— bu...

“You are the most honest, warm, loving person I know. Your loyalty and friendship amazes me every day. I have never wanted anything more in my life than I want your love, and I don’t want to share that with anyone. I haven’t done a single thing in my life to deserve you, schne...

“You aren’t going anywhere without me.” Say what? I reared my head back enough to look at his face, indifferent to how much of a wreck I had to be. “But you told—“ Kulti’s face was gentle. His eyes were brighter than ever. “I have so much to teach you, Taco,” he said with a flick of his eyebrow. “Unless you have something in writing, there would never be proof of an agreement to begin with.”

“You smell like oatmeal, clean and sweet…” he rumbled, sucking my earlobe into his mouth. It didn’t matter that he was still technically my coach until what? Midnight? Or that he was a celebrity of sorts and that I got rude emails from his fans. All that mattered was that he was my friend above all else, and he made my blood boil like no other person in the world ever had. I couldn’t get enough.

“You belong to me.”