Page 139 of On Merit Alone
That’s what she was. My very own more.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Merit
“I’m goingto need you to say something.”
This was Ira’s stern response to my fifteen minutes of sheer silence after the events of the night.
I guess in the grand scheme of a comeback, there were bound to be ups and downs. I just hadn’t expected this down to be so close to the one at the beginning of the season.
After winning back-to-back games over the rivalry weekend, the Dynamite had gone on to take a three game lead. We were on fire, hot with the adrenaline and magic of a winning streak and riding it out to the bitter end.
But all good things eventually stopped being good, and our hot streak was no exception. I knew the fireworks would eventually fizzle out, I just hadn’t expected it to be quite so soon. Or catastrophic.
It wasn’t just that we lost. That we’dbeenlosing… again. The way we played brought me back to the beginning of the season, and the way I felt at the beginning of the season brought me back to a person who’d felt trapped and scared and was fighting for her life.
A lot of those circumstances had changed since then, mainlybecause of the man kneeling in front of me. But I still couldn’t help but be afraid of those feelings coming back. Haunting me. Plaguing the rest of the season. And being frustrated as hell that they might return.
A sigh from the tall form at my feet had me seeing Ira clearly for the first time since I sat in his locker. “Alright, Six. Up. And strip.”
I started.
After the game, I was a zombie during the huddle and the post-game meeting with the coaches. I hardly put up a fuss about sneaking into the men’s locker room to meet Ira, just walking right in and not caring if anyone happened to see. And when I got here, Ira started on his usual routine of undressing me.
Not likethat. Of taking off my gear and massaging my ailments as he tried to talk to me about the game. I was usually quite good company during this, and I don’t ever think I’m great company. But after games—win or lose—I can’t help the animated word vomit that came out of my mouth. I actually looked forward to these debriefings with Ira now, and he didn't seem to mind them either.
But today I didn't have it in me to say anything. Not about the game, and not about the frustrated feelings I had brewing in my chest. Nothing. I’d left Ira in silence for nearly twenty minutes now.
But that still wasn’t enough to prepare me to hear the words “strip” leave his mouth in a downright order.
I cleared my throat. “Excuse me?”
He narrowed his eyes. “For a shower, Jones. Get your head out of the gutter.”
More throat clearing and suddenly the room was much hotter than before. “Oh, uh, I don’t have a change of clothes.”
“I have extra. You obviously don’t feel like talking, but the hot water will do you some good,” he said.
I thought about arguing but then realized there was no point. He was right. I was frustrated, and hot water couldn’t hurt.
Moments later, I was stepping under the steaming spray of the identical-looking stall of the men’s locker room showers. Ira had instructed me that the middle stall got the best heat and pressure before fishing out a bundle of his own products from the seat of his locker.
He didn’t try to talk to me while I was inside and I appreciated it. I don’t think there were many scenarios in which I would rather not talk about basketball, but for some reason even bringing it up right now was riling up this crazy frustration in me that I couldn’t sate.
As I appeared in the doorway fifteen minutes later, Ira looked up from where he was arranging a stack of clothes for me and raised an eyebrow—effectively asking about the status of my headspace without even speaking.
I sighed and slumped against the wall like standing and worrying about this was too strenuous.
“Rationally I know it’s not that bad,” I started from the doorway. “But what do you call it when you know that, and you’restillpissed off?”
“You’re frustrated. It’s normal,” he assured from his spot on a stool. “Did the shower help?”
I nodded.
“You still don’t want to talk about it?” he asked.
I shook my head.
