Page 90 of The Assist
He studies me. “Why’d you decide to come back and sit with the team?”
I shrug.
“The only thing that hurts more than not playing is losing it completely. They’ll have to drag me off that court kicking and screaming when I’m ninety years old.”
“I guess I came back because I didn’t know what else to do. Who else to be.”
He shifts in his seat and studies me. “You thought about what you might want to do after you graduate?”
“My dad has offered me a junior analyst job at his company.” I shrug. I haven’t really allowed myself to think beyond May.
“Coach Lewis is moving on, we’ll have an assistant coaching spot if you’re interested. Think about it. Pay is crap and you’d have to keep working with these knuckleheads, but for what it’s worth, I think you have a real talent for it. You’ve already made a difference in Shaw. Maybe coaching at Valley, with guys you played with, is too much, but you say the word, and I’ll make some calls to other programs.”
Somehow, I manage to speak through the shock. “Thank you. I’ll think about it.”
Be a coach? We sit in an uncomfortable silence. It’s already been a night out of bizzaro land, so I ask the question that’s been floating around in my head since Shaw mentioned it.
“Do you think it’s possible to love two things equally?”
He regards me seriously but waits for me to say more.
“Like two different sports or two different women or anything as much as I love basketball.”
“If you find a penny today, are you more or less likely to find a penny tomorrow?” He shakes his head. “I don’t know what the statistical likelihood is, but I think I’d worry less about trying to quantify it and grab on to anything that can even begin to compare to your love of the game. Especially now.”
I mull that over for the rest of the trip, closing my eyes and faking sleep. Maybe quantifying love is a losing man’s game. It doesn’t matter if I love Blair the same way I love basketball, it just matters that I love her. She’s been beside me for the worst year of my life, and when I try to picture it any other way, I don’t know if I would have survived. She’s breathed life into me again. I might still be bitter, but I’m no longer scared of what the future holds as long as she’s by my side, forcing me to look at the positives and putting up with my grumpy ass.
The bus pulls into the fieldhouse after six. Been a long ass day, but I’m not tired. Ain’t that a first. I gimp home, unable to wait for my roommates to shower and drop off their jerseys.
I’ve already texted Blair to give her an ETA on our arrival. So many times, I’ve come home to her waiting for me, giving up her life to be part of mine. I’m not selfless enough to think we’d be where we are today if she hadn’t. She gave, and I took. I’ve always known what a badass chick she is, but I wouldn’t have gone out of my way for her.
Not then, but I will now. I’ll follow her around campus for the next four months, tell everyone that’ll listen that she’s mine, prove day in and day out that I’m not going anywhere.
I’m not happy that I can’t play ball. There’s no positive spin I’m putting on it today or any day in the future. Going out like this sucks, and I’ll always wonder what-if and wish I’d been able to savor those last games knowing it was the end.
Nah, I’m not an optimist like Blair. I’m a grumpy motherfucker, and I probably always will be, but that’s why I’m not letting go of her. She evens out my dark. Makes all the dull and gray seem polished and new.
* * *
Blair
Wes: Bus just got back. Where are you?
Me: Tutor Center. Want me to head over when we close?
Wes: Got some stuff to do first. I’ll text ya.
My phone rings with a video call from Vanessa.
“What’s up?”
Vanessa sets the phone down and steps back, turning side to side to show me her outfit.
“Mario is picking me up in fifteen minutes. Help!”
“Where’s he taking you?”
“He won’t say, which is why I can’t figure out what to wear. All he’ll say is it would be a night to remember.”
