Page 113 of The Way I Am Now
He shakes his head briefly, then says, “Don’t we all?”
I nod in response, but what I really want to say is: no, we alldon’t, I don’t—at least, I’m not supposed to mess up—notthisbad, anyway.
Before we can get any farther, my aunt and two younger cousins, ten-year-old twins, Sasha and Shane, are barreling in, lots of noise and energy coming with them. A welcome distraction from my thoughts about how I’d imagined this day would go.
“Josh?” my aunt says as I stand to give her a hug. “Where’s the girlfriend?”
Dad shakes his head to try to signal to her, drawing his finger across his throat, but it’s too late.
“Oh,” she says, putting her hand over her mouth. “Sorry.”
“She’s not coming,” I tell her.
“Ohh,” she repeats, drawing the word out this time, with a frown and a sympathetic head tilt. “I’m sorry, sweetie.”
I shrug, try my best to pretend I’m not devastated.
“Josh, Josh!” Shane is hopping up and down next to me, shoving a basketball in my face. That familiar rubbery chemical new ball scent flooding my brain with memories. “Josh, look. Look at my new basketball. I just got it for my birthday.”
“Nice,” I tell him.
Sasha walks by and mutters, “You meanourbirthday.”
Shane rolls his eyes and sighs at her, and I laugh. I don’t often think I’ve missed out on anything by being an only child, but when I see them together, it makes me wonder.
“And what did you get, Sasha?” I ask her.
“Mom bought me a clarinet,” she announces, proud of herself.
“Wait, you play the clarinet?” I ask. Of course she does.
“Duh-uh,” she says, full of attitude. “Only for two whole years now. Which you would know if you ever came to any of my school concerts.”
“Sasha,” my aunt interrupts. “Geez, give the guy a break. You know his games always fall on your concert dates.”
“Sorry, Sash,” I tell her. “What if I try to make the next one?”
She shrugs and skips off into the kitchen. She probably doesn’t give a damn, but I feel terrible. I didn’t even realize this was yet another thing I’ve been missing out on because of basketball. It’s not like we have a big extended family; they can’t just let me not show up for shit and then not even tell me.
I turn to my aunt. “Hey, I actually do want to try to come to her next concert. Will you let me know when it is?”
“Sure,” she answers, seeming surprised. “If you really want to—but, honey, it’s fine, we all know you’re busy. Don’t let the kid give you a guilt trip over it.”
“Josh? Josh, Josh,” Shane starts in again. “Wanna play before dinner?” He dribbles the ball twice, and his mom gives him the look—widening her eyes and pursing her lips—it’s the same look my mom has given me so many times throughout my life.
“Not in the house, you little beast.” She points to the door. Then she turns to me. “Do you mind indulging him for a bit, honey? It’s literally all he’s been talking about all week,” she says under her breath. “My cousin Josh this, my cousin Josh that.”
“Of course,” I tell her quietly, happy to have an excuse to get out in the fresh air, where Eden’s absence isn’t taking up so much space. “Let’s go, little man,” I tell Shane. “Sasha, you wanna play too?” I call in the direction of the kitchen.
“I hate basketball!” she yells back.
I have to laugh at her candor; she makes it sound like such an easy thing to say.
“Thank you,” my aunt whispers.
I follow Shane out to our driveway, where he runs and jumps for a shot into the basketball hoop my dad attached to our garage back when I was even younger than him.
“Good shot,” I tell him. “You got some air on that jump, didn’t you?”
