Page 83 of On Merit Alone
In a gravelly voice she said, “Youthought I cared? Yet you’re the one walking away. Classic.”
She turned around trying to walk away. Done with me, just like that. Aside from confusion, panic slipped in at the sight of her retreat. Enough to have me reach for her again. She didn’t even let me touch her. Who knew that could hurt so bad?
“Where are you going, Mer? Your car’s right here.”
She glared over at me. “Just leave, Ira. Like you were going to all along.”
What? Was she serious?“Merit?—”
“No!” she said, stepping away from my every advancing step. Istopped, miserably getting the message. “If you won’t leave, I will. See you never, I guess. Bye, Ira.”
I wanted to reach out to her, but at this point it was strikingly clear that she no longer wanted anything to do with me. So I just watched as she grabbed her keys and locked her car.
It was before she walked away, when she paused and stared over at me like she couldn’t quite believe her eyes, that I caught the one and only tear she let slip down her face. As the moisture touched her cheek, she blinked at it, scoffing like she didn’t even know it was there. Then she shook her head and turned away mumbling, “You’re such a fucking idiot, Mer. You should have known.”
My stomach hurt.
An aching feeling of anxiety, depression, and the dread that something bad would happen. As if something bad didn’t just already happen. As if my sprouting heart didn’t meet the untimely slice of a blade before it fully bloomed.
I was so confused. One second, I was picturing her sweet, smiling face, craving her calm, reassuring words. And now I couldn’t get that terrified look out of my head—couldn’t quite stand that she was crying as she walked away.
And not for the first time with her, but maybe the worst, I was left there wondering what the hell had just happened.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Ira
You would thinkI cursed her and her entire family line. That’s how mad Merit was at me.
In the days and weeks following our fight, Merit wouldn’t talk to me, let alone look at me. If I passed her in the gym she would look the other way. If she saw me first, she would turn the other way. And God forbid I tried to go up and talk to her. To touch her.
Touching her was out of the question. She didn’t care who was around, she wouldn’t let it happen—sooner lighting her hand on fire than accepting the contact. That really did a lot for a guy’s ego. And if I happened to catch her in a situation where she either had to talk to me or risk seeming rude around others, I almost wish she chose the latter because the cold way she addressed me seemed to do a great job at erasing every previous encounter we’d ever had. Making every conversation, every look, every smile, and every bated breath seem cheap and fabricated.
I hated that she was mad at me. At first, I was mad too. Stung by the fact that she didn’t immediately spring into the supportive Merit role that she played all those times before. That’s the Merit I thought I would get when I opened up to her. I definitely did notexpectherto be the wounded one. It pissed me off that she, of all people, would deduce me to someone who could only make baskets and couldn’t offer the world anything more.
But then I realized, we hadn’t even gotten to that part yet. Merit hadn’t even known my reasonings for wanting to retire.Shehadn’t gotten that far. Whatever she was feeling stemmed solely from my desire to stop playing basketball, and that made me question, what was the real problem here?
I was willing to talk with her about it. Seeing that tear roll down her face would have pretty much made me willing to talk about anything with her. I don’t think I ever hated a drop of moisture more than coming from Merit’s eyes. I instantly wanted to fix it, but she wouldn’t even let me near her. And after a while, I was losing hope that she ever would again.
Figuratively, of course. We did essentially work in the same circles. And, as fate would have it, we were currently doing a work thing together. An interview segment with one of the local magazines or something. And for all my questions about Mer’s reaction to my news, today’s task was starting to make some things painfully clear.
For this segment, a makeshift interview panel was set up in the middle of the arena. Behind a black curtain they had a newsroom with couches and the little fake coffee cups on the tables. They also had microphones and an entire camera crew, the hoop and half the court serving as a backdrop.
From our team, there were a bunch of guys—mostly all the top personalities and top scorers. We usually did things like this—interviews, questionnaires, one on ones, behind the scenes—that sort of stuff. But we didn’t usually double up with other teams. Now though, we were taking turns and going in segments with the women’s team.
First, the guys and I had a turn answering rapid-fire questions that made us laugh and got us all joking around like we normallydid. The girls did the same, though I was learning Merit wasn’t much of a joker with everyone else like she was with me. Most of her answers were straight to the point. All business. However, her team seemed to be used to it, so it didn’t throw the reporters too far off.
Next, they paired us up, matching the men’s and women’s teams with pairs they assumed would be most compatible. Naturally, because of our commonality of skill and recognition, Merit and I were paired.
At first I thought when she sat down next to me that she was just nervous. For two weeks she’d been ignoring me at every turn, and now all of a sudden, she was sitting so close to me I could hear her labored breaths even as she tried to mask them under little coughs and clearings of her throat. But then, as I bumped my knee into hers and she actually startled slightly, I realized she was out of it. Jerking at the contact, she mumbled a quick “sorry” as she realized her positioning and moved to adjust it.
Discreetly, I hooked my pinky with hers on the couch, murmuring, “Stay,” under my breath. She immediately sank back down, no question or protest following. She didn’t look at me, but I could tell she was chewing at her lip as she waited for the interview to start.
Thatworried me. I had never seen her so nervous for anything.
This wasn’t even serious. Just something fun and lighthearted to put in the middle of some magazine. But by the way Merit was acting, you would think it was a job interview.
I bumped her knee again, attempting to lighten her up, but she remained stiff. Her hands wringing in her lap as the woman sitting in the chair next to us began.
