a pretty big deal

I'm not entirely sure there is a story in here, but I feel the stirrings of one, so I shall try. 
But, first. Know that the story I am about to attempt is not about anything I have accomplished, but rather something I have started. At press time, it remains not mine to claim. Not even close. 
And the story--actually--isn't even about that. But rather about my fake reaction to its imagined capture. 
This story. It is a work of absolute imagination, based entirely upon a fictitious outcome, built upon the first step of one act. 
Enter: The first step of the act. 
It is this. I have applied for a position at a local high school. Oh, it's not for teaching, though any position around children (and adults) will likely involve teaching of some sort. Leadership, certainly. No, it's a coaching position. Something I have not ever done in my entire life. 
But it's new, it's fresh. It feels bright and interesting and it has rattled around my head for a while. This possibility? Though I may not be any good at it--I think I might be. And I am a creature of curiosity. I love new things. And lately? I'm a little restless. 
You must know that I work very hard, straight down the line, to do the right things. The things that must be done for my family. I do not count the cost. I do not hold my time in high regard. Oh, it matters to me, but if I can sacrifice my time in the service to others, then it is something I will always give. 
As I told Dan recently, "Now is not the time. Now is never the time to over-value myself and my needs." I am *this close* to all of my dreams. And those are my needs--those dreams of mine-- and I will work tirelessly for them. 
"I am almost there. I don't care how hard I work. If there are hours left in the day, I will use them. Nobody stops running the last mile of a marathon."
And this has been my marathon. The work of the past few years. The endurance of it all, it sends me to my knees sometimes. But I always stand back up.
But this-->this little gig... In a sea of have-to's and need-to's and must-do's...
It has the distinction of feeling like confetti. Like a bright and charming maybe.
Enter: My imagined capture.
In my mind, and to those close to me, I enact the possibility that I have already gotten the job. 
...but hold on. 
Here's what you have to know about me. I love, love, love to make up personalities. Preposterous ones. Ones wildly out-sized. Ridiculous. An annoying over generalization. A fool of a person who has no sense of their own irony. It is so funny to me, my favorite pastime. Always impulsive, never planned. 
"What is the job?" Dan asks me.
"Umm..." I say in such a way that Dan is subliminally tipped off to my preposterous, overblown, made up self, "It's the assistant coach of the freshman cheerleading team AND--"
"Okay...." Dan consoles himself under his breath and repositions himself on the couch for the longhaul. He's being in the company of this personality before.
"AND...I don't know if you know this about me..?" 
Dan stretches his shoulders, heavy sigh. 
"But I was a member of the MISSOURI STATE 1A-3A DIVISION CHAMPION CHEERLEADING SQUAD, Dan. For 3 years in a row, babe. Three years in.a.row." 
And then here it breaks down. Because this personality is too much. It's too absurd to imagine this factiod is going to get me this position. Too ridiculous to be playing this personality who believes something that happened 30 years in the past is even relevant in the face of literally no other qualifications. I start laughing. Dan shakes his head. Part of the fun is actually his non-participation in my theatrics. 
Some time later, I am alone at home. Will comes home from work and I start the same one-act play with him. And this time? Why involve Will, you ask? 
"First I would like a tour of my new office and staff..." he says immediately. 
This. THIS is why. 
Because Will dovetails so skillfully into the hilarity of my make-believe world. And we bounce on and off each other as I continue to behave as if my position as the assistant coach of the freshman cheerleading squad is somehow administrative. Or prestigious. As impactful as Eric Taylor in Friday Night Lights. 
That the heirarchy of any high school in America is the Principal, the Assistant Principal, the Athletic Director. Then me. The assistant coach of the freshman girls cheerleading squad. 
"I'll need a super long name plate for my desk," I observe as fake-important-person to a real life Will. And he agrees. He contributes some other inanity and it cracks us both up. 
We finish polishing off the pizza he had brought home and our conversation moves on. We fall into one of our Will and mom talks. We always do. As always, I am amazed by his gravity and proud of his wisdom. I may not be proud of me in our raising, but I am profoundly proud of him. He is a beautiful soul. 
As we stand up and clean up, we begin to talk of my new running endeavor. 
Well, I can hardly pass up comic gold. So here she comes again...
"I mean, Will," I tell him, "I'm basically an athlete."
"Yes, I've seen you out there. In your non-runner gear." Will is no longer playing with me.
I stare out the window, clueless. Absurd. A foolish character lost in her own non-existant accolades.
Then I look back at him. "I figure as soon as I become a coach AND a runner I will get lots of swag thrown at me..."
"Right. All those sponsorships..." He smiles and says before heading downstairs. 
"Nike. Adidas. Gatorade." I could go on.
I mean...I'm a pretty big deal.

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