Naomi nodded. Walter exhaled slowly. I knew it. Naomi's expression tightened. Knew what?
Walter looked down the hall before answering. Not here. That made Naomi wary. Walter noticed. Nothing bad.
He gave a small, almost embarrassed smile. I just don't want half the building listening. They stepped into an unused equipment room beside the hallway. Walter switched on one light. Metal shelving filled the space.
Old cones, resistance bands, basketballs, and boxed uniforms sat beneath a film of dust. Rain tapped faintly against a narrow basement window near the ceiling. Naomi stayed near the door. Walter leaned his clipboard against a shelf. I used to officiate at Riverton.
No. He looked at her. Karate. Naomi went still. Walter's smile faded into something warmer. National Circuit.
The words landed differently from everything else that week. Not threatening, but exposing. Naomi's fingers tightened on the strap of her gym bag. Walter continued. Adult divisions, regional qualifiers, nationals when they needed an old fool willing to stand on his feet all day.
Naomi stared at him. You were a referee for almost 15 years. A memory moved behind Walter's eyes. Bright mats, white uniforms, a packed arena. He pointed gently toward her bag.
That heron was on Marcus' coaching jacket. Naomi looked down at the pin. He wore it everywhere. I remember. Walter's voice softened.
I remember him, too. Naomi did not know what to say. Most people who mentioned Marcus spoke in fragments. Your father was kind. Your father helped me once.
Your father worked too hard. Walter spoke like someone who had known a part of him Naomi had nearly forgotten. He coached differently. Walter said. How?
He never screamed. That made Naomi smile. No, didn't pace the edge of the mat. Didn't argue every call. Walter chuckled.
Drove some of the other coaches crazy. That sounds like him. Walter nodded toward her. And you sound like him. Naomi's smile disappeared.
Walter seemed to realize the weight of that. I saw you compete. Naomi looked up sharply. You did? Both of you.
The equipment room suddenly felt much smaller. Walter pointed toward an empty patch of concrete floor. National championships, adult women's divisions, separate brackets. Naomi could almost hear it. The sharp clap of feet.
Judges calling points. The buzz of a crowd before a final. Walter's eyes moved across her face. You were 19 then? Naomi shook her head.
18. Walter nodded. Right. He smiled faintly. You were the quieter one.