Page 87 of On Merit Alone
Mer shook her head and my heart kept finding more ways to break. “I don’t have any other family. Like I said, just me… and basketball.”
“You and basketball, huh?” Tonya nodded. “Is that how you were able to make it to the college level and later on to the draft? With just you and basketball?”
“I—um,” she breathed, her hands pressing to her forehead as she took deep breaths. “That’s how I get through everything. Me and basketball. I don’t have a family anymore. I haven’t for a long time. The only thing that’s left of them, funny enough, is this silly little game that connected each and every one of us in one way or another. That’s why I can’t imagine my life going any other way, because, well it’s always been me and basketball. And without basketball, it’ll just be me. I’ll be the last one left.”
“Ryan,” I growled. “Is this outside of the contract? Are they violating it?”
“Yes,” Ryan said. Blinking like he was snapping out of something. “Yes, this is way over the line.”
That’s all I needed to hear. Yanking the curtain aside, I started my way toward Merit.
“I’m getting her out of there.”
Passing by the camera crew and other professionals, I ignored their protests and warnings. I ignored everything but the girl sitting so balled up she seemed about a foot shorter than her magnificent height.
So much of her had spilled out that she looked drained. Parts of her that these people, and maybe not even I, were supposed to see just yet. It was clear she was hurting, and all around her, it seemed like nobody cared.
Nobody was there for her. Nobody but basketball.
As I walked into the little sitting area, I caught the tail end of another one of Tonya’s questions. “—it must have really scared you when you got injured.”
I put my back to her, blocking Merit’s view of the woman and hissing over my shoulder. “She’s not answering that.”
To Mer I held my hands out. “Come on, Six. You’re done.”
“But I—” I scooped her up at her elbows, lifting her onto her feet and bringing my head down into her line of sight.
“You’re not answering another fucking question. Let’s go, Mer,” I said.
She tracked the scene slowly, her eyes lifting to mine then over my shoulder as she recognized Ryan there. Before she could protest, I had an arm slinging around her waist and was steering her out of this bullshit without another word.
We exited the curtain, but I kept going. We went as far as the men’s locker room where I sat her down in my locker and squatted in front of her, rubbing her arms as they spotted with goosebumps and shivered like ice sickles.
To me, she asked, “Ryan said it was okay that I leave?”
“Merit.”
I couldn’t give a fuck about Ryan right now. But she did, and was now trying to stand because she didn’t like my answer. “I can’t get suspended, Ira. If Ryan didn’t say it was okay, I have to?—”
“Sweetheart, sweetheart,” I said, grasping the sides of her neckand using my thumbs to make her look at me. Gently, I guided her back into the seat. “Baby, please just listen to me alright?”
“Ira,” she whimpered.
“I know, I know. I’m sorry,” I said, feeling my chest caving in as I apologized for much more than pulling her out of that interview. I realized now that everything she’d said and done in the parking garage that day had nothing to do with me, not really, and everything to do with what I’d just learned about her past. Her family. Her life. “Shit, Merit, I’m so sorry. Here. Stay here, I’m going to grab you some water or something.”
Rising, I jogged away from her crumpled up form, heading over to the little fridge where staff kept snacks and drinks stocked for the players. With every step, I cursed myself for letting this happen. I cursed myself for yelling at her that day when she was just reacting to me quitting basketball the same way she’d react to the same reality for herself. I cursed myself for everything I didn’t know about her and everything I’d assumed. I just cursed myself and hoped to God she let me make it up to her.
Starting with a bottle of cold water.
I wish I could start at the end. I wish I could already know everything about her so I could jump to the part where I could make it better. I wish I knewhowto make it better. But everything with Merit moved in baby steps. Aside from this very encounter where she let everything spew out of her in a jumbled up grieving mess, she moved in relationships like a chessboard. One step forward, some back. And not because of some sort of maneuvering strategy like I accused her of in the parking garage, but because she didn’t know how else to do things.
I wanted to fast forward to the part where she was feeling better tucked away in my arms as I told her I was sorry and that no matter how alone she thought she would be without basketball, she’d never get there because I would be there.
I was going to tell her that, but when I got back to my locker, Merit was already gone.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Merit
