Page 122 of The Way I Am Now
“You done?” I call over to him.
“You got me.” He breathes out forcefully, bends over with his hands on his knees for a second before standing upright again. “You got me, Joshie.”
We go sit on the front steps, where Mom managed to stealthily leave two water bottles for us. He cracks open the first bottle and hands it to me, takes the second one for himself. We sit there side by side, drinking in long sips, both of us still catching our breath.
“Josh, do you know how proud I am of you?” he says, out of nowhere.
“Because of basketball.”
“Well, no,” he says. “I’m proud of you regardless of basketball.”
“You are?”
“How can you even ask me that?” he says, letting out this short puff of air. “Of course. Of course I am. It’s just a game.”
I nod, letting his words sink in, trying to figure out why that doesn’t feel true to me. It’s a game, sure. A game I’ve grown to hate. A game that’s taken so much from me, yet I can’t seem to let go of it, even though I know it’s just a game.
“It’s not, though. It’s not just a game to me,” I hear myself telling him. “It’s all I had.”
“What do you mean?” He’s shaking his head, squinting, not understanding. “Don’t say that. You have so much going for you.”
“No, I mean I clung to it. When you weren’t there. When you weren’t available.”
“When I was using, you mean?” he says.
“Yeah.”
“Josh, I—” he starts, but I’m not finished.
“I have held on to this game for so long, even when it’s unhealthy, even when I hate how it makes me feel, even when I hate myself for being a part of this team right now.” I have to stop and catch my breath, give my brain a chance to catch up with my words. “This fucking game has hijacked my life—and I hate it. God, I don’t even know what I’m doing anymore!”
“Josh,” he begins again, “no one is forcing you to stick with this if that’s not—”
“No,youare!”
“Me? I have never—”
“Yes, Dad. I have been forced to keep this up because I don’t trust that you’re going to be there for me. But this?” I pick up the ball that’s sitting between my feet. “This thing that’s just a game—it might only be a game, but it’s always there. It’s been the constant, when that’s what you should’ve been for me.”
He’s covering his mouth while he watches me, really listening to me.
“I—I’m a mess. I’m actively destroying my life over this,” I continue, and I can feel hot tears on my face already, but I don’t care. “Do you knowIbroke up with Eden? It was me. I broke up with her, even though I love her so much, because I thought I couldn’t trust her. But it’s you—you’re the one I don’t trust.”
He shakes his head, and I see the tears in his eyes, hear the sheer sadness in his voice when he says, “I never—” But he stops and lets out this heart-shattering sob. “I never knew you felt this way.” He gasps. “About any of it, I swear, I didn’t know. I thought . . .” He pauses. “You had your mother, and she is so great, sogood,” he says, his voice trembling on that last word, as he jabs his fingers into the center of his chest, “so much better than me. I just thought—”
“Mom’s great. Yes, she’s a good person. She’s an amazing mother, but I need you, too—I can’t believe I have to tellyouthat.”
He takes the ball from my hands and drops it, letting it roll down the steps into the grass, and he pulls me in with both arms, just holding on, both of us holding on.
“Thank you,” he says when we part. “Thank you for trusting me enough, right now, to tell me all of this. I can take it, I promise you. I’m here, all right? I’m not going anywhere this time.”
“Okay,” I tell him.
“Okay?” he repeats.
We stand, and as we start toward the door, I feel like I have a weight—a physical weight—lifted off me, the heaviness I’ve been carrying around inside me for so long, gone.
“Dad, wait,” I say. “I’m proud of you too, you know that, right?”
