Snow Soccer by David Trifunov

Author:David Trifunov
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lorimer
Published: 2017-01-09T16:00:00+00:00

11

Tea for Three

Sarimah’s father hung his coat in the hallway before kicking off his boots and heading to the kitchen.

“I need tea,” he said. “This weather — I tell you. And today everyone said it was warm outside. If this is warm, I am a camel.”

He began filling the kettle with water and found the teapot. He placed his mug on the counter. Then he turned to see his wife and daughter staring at him.

“I feel like something happened while I was away,” he said as he got the tea from the cupboard.

“Papa, can I play football with Izzy? She plays on an all-girls team. The coach is Muslim.”

His father looked up as he searched for a spoon in the drawer. When he found one, he placed it next to the mug.

“What? Football? Why? Where is all this coming from?”

“I met the coach today at school. He asked me to come to practice.”

She watched as her father stared at the kettle.

“Will this cost money?” he asked.

“No, he asked me just for practices. Izzy’s mother will drive me.”

“Who is this coach and what is this team? Where do you play, outside?”

Sarimah smiled. She knew her father was joking. At least she hoped he was.

“Papa, you are being silly. I’m going to the indoor Soccer Centre. The team is called the Blizzard.”

“Good name.”

Sarimah’s mother moved to the kitchen table and sat down.

“She wants to go tonight,” her mother said.

“Tonight? It’s a school night. I don’t want you playing on school nights.”

Sarimah’s shoulders slumped. She flopped into a chair next to her mother. She folded her arms on the table and rested her head on them. All Sarimah could hear was water heating in the kettle. Then the kettle started to whistle. No one said anything as her father poured hot water into the teapot.

Sarimah’s mind was racing. She was so close to finally playing football on a real pitch. She didn’t want to push her father for an answer too quickly. But she didn’t want to give up, either.

Then she thought of the refugee camp.

“Papa, remember what you said to me in Turkey?”

He was slowly stirring the tea. “I told you many things.”

“It was when we heard that our old neighbourhood had been attacked. You said it was the worst day of your life. You wanted to know why you couldn’t provide a safe home for your family.”

She could see he remembered, by the look that crossed his face. He poured two cups of tea and joined them at the table. He passed one cup to his wife.

“I will never forget that day,” he said sadly.

“You said you would do anything for me, to make me safe and happy. Papa, playing football will make me happy. I want this more than anything I’ve ever wanted before. I will be safe. I won’t let it interfere with my school work.”

The only sound in the room was the ticking of their clock. Sarimah counted forty-four seconds before her father said anything.

“You are precious to me.

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