Page 50 of Between Love and War
Kate chuckles. She’s still looking around, then she moves around with a relaxed familiarity. Like she actually lives here. She straightens the cushion, picks up a crayon from under thetable, and takes a seat. Without taking my eyes off her, I raise my voice toward the stairs. “Hey Pol! Guess who’s here!”
Immediately, I hear her little feet rushing down the stairs. She squeals. “MISS KATE!” she says. “You’re here!” And then she runs toward Kate and bangs into her as they both stumble back into the sofa.
“Hey there!” Kate says, wrapping her arms around Polly. “Looks like you tired out your uncle, Polly.” She looks at me as she chuckles, and I press my lips to a smile.
Polly laughs. “He couldn’t keep up! But he got me burgers for dinner, and ice cream too!”
“Ice cream before bed? That’s brave,” Kate says.
“He also said we should watchFrozen, but he doesn’t even know the words!” She rolls her eyes.
“We’ll watch it later,” Kate says. “But what do you want to do for now?”
Polly barely pauses. “Princess dress-up!” Then she frowns, the tragedy of her life suddenly dawning upon her. “But… I didn’t bring my princess dresses. And you don’t have them!”
Kate feigns deep thought, tapping her chin. “Hmm. You’re right. No princess dresses here… but what about a different kind of dress-up?”
Polly perks up instantly. “Like what?”
“Like… basketball athlete dress-up.” She says it with so much enthusiasm that even I want to be part of it, even when I don’t know what she’s talking about.
Polly gasps, delighted. “YES! Tito Wowski haslotsof those clothes! His closet is full of jerseys and shoes and that one towel he always wears on his shoulder like a cape!”
Kate stands up and pats my arm. “You heard her. Go get the gear, Coach.”
I raise a brow at her, but I don’t argue. As I start up the stairs, I hear Polly call out proudly, “I’m gonna be Michael Lee!Captain of the national basketball team and ice cream hero!” I chuckle, and walk a little faster.
In my room, I open the closet and start pulling out a few older jerseys—some from past seasons, a couple of training shirts, and one that still has a stain from an energy drink explosion during a team flight. I toss them over my arm.
When I get back downstairs, Polly is already standing on the couch like it’s a stage. She’s holding an imaginary microphone, narrating her own highlight reel: “And now… Michael Lee enters the court! The crowd goeswild!”
I smile because Polly’s always front and center during my games. Even my teammates know her. She always cheers, shouts, and copies the announcer, exactly like the way she did just now.
Kate’s on the floor, trying to contain her laughter while tying her hair. “Your fan base is growing,” she tells me as I drop the pile on the couch.
“I aim to inspire,” I say dryly.
Polly dives into the jerseys like they’re treasure, holding one up to her tiny frame. “Did this jersey win?” she asks.
“Oh yeah,” I say. “That one was from the FIBA Games,” I say, flopping into the armchair. “Gold medal game.”
Polly beams and immediately puts it on. It swallows her, naturally, and she struts around the living room saying, “No further questions, please.” She looks at me and adds, “That’s what you always say!”
Kate lies back on the carpet, hands over her stomach, tears in her eyes from laughing. “This might be the best sleepover ever.”
I glance between the two of them—Polly parading in one of the most important jerseys I’ve ever worn, Kate doubled over with laughter on my living room floor—and feel something shiftinside my chest. Something small, something warm. Something I never felt before.
“Miss Kate! Choose a jersey! You’re my teammate.”
Kate’s eyes grow wide, but she just chuckles, and says, “Sure, Pol, hand me one!”
Without hesitation, Polly tosses her one—of course, that one. The final jersey from my most recent win. The one with the fresh lettering and the still-crisp hem. Kate catches it mid-air and slips it on, adjusting it like a dress. It nearly reaches her knees. She looks up at me, a smirk forming.
“You say anything, and I walk.”
“I said nothing,” I manage, though I’m grinning.
Polly hops between us like a sugar-powered sports announcer. “Okay! Team meeting! Coach Kate, what’s our game plan?”
