Page 63 of The Transfer
“Oh, Riggs! I didn’t hear you come in. Get over here and hug your momma.” I do as she says and receive a perfect Nora Hart hug, which has been a staple in my life. We walk over to the table and sit down to eat.
“How are you doing today, Mom?” I ask, knowing she will probably say she’s fine, even if she’s not.
“Today has been a better day. It’s hard to wake up without your daddy next to me and be alone in this house. But he reminds me that he is still here each day in his own way. Just this morning, I received a flower delivery that he had set up before he passed away. The card said ‘Know I’m missing you as much as you are missing me. Live well. Love our boy.’ And well, that is just Joel Hart for you. He takes care of me even when he isn’t here.” She has a few tears welling up in her eyes, and I realize I do as well.
“Wow, Mom. That is just, well, it’s so Dad. You’re right. I’m glad today has been a good day for you, but I worry about you being here alone. I can get out of my lease if you need me to be here, and I really don’t mind the commute?—”
She cuts me off before I even finish. “No, Son. You’re meant to be right where you are. I have wonderful neighbors, plus Paige, Jake, and many more who I can rely on. You are to focus on basketball, graduation, and that sweet girl of yours.” I nod, dropping it because she will not be swayed. Nora Hart is nothing if not stubborn to the core.
“Honey, I have something to give you, and I felt like tonight would be the best night, since it’s Dad’s birthday and all. Before your dad passed, he gave me a box with letters inside, all addressed to you. He wrote something for you on different occasions throughout your life, and even a few for potential grandkids. He wanted to give you a part of him to hold on to.” Now I’m full-blown crying. Of course, my dad would think about the future.
She continues talking as she hands me a box with an envelope sitting on top. I go to grab the envelope, but she reaches and swipes it first.
“Oh, that one isn’t for you,” she says with a sad smile on her face.
“Who is it for?” I ask, genuinely curious.
“Don’t you worry about it. I’m going to deliver it myself. You go ahead and open your box.” I accept her explanation and pull the lid off.
Seeing my dad’s handwriting hits me straight in the chest. I read “ForSenior Night” on the front of the first envelope and chuckle despite my tears.
Then I flip to the next one and see “For the Big Dance.” Throughout my entire life, March has always been a fun month in our household. The NCAA tournament has many names, but my dad always referred to it as “the big dance,” and he would spin my mom around anytime he brought it up. I’m not surprised in the least to see that is what he chose to write.
“Sweet boy, take this home with you and read it tonight or tomorrow, just do it sometime before the game. I want you to enjoy this time because it’s special. I can’t believe it’s already your Senior Night. And don’t you worry, I’ll be there with bells on.” I give her a nod, staring at the envelope in front of me. This letter contains words from my dad. Not old memories to look back on, but a new one. I never thought I’d have anything else from him. It’s like discovering treasure; each letter will be a precious gem that I will hold on to for the rest of my life.
Hugging my mom goodbye, I climb into my car, placing the box of letters in the passenger seat.
I pick up my phone, wanting to text Reagan, but I immediately put it down. What would I even say to her right now? She probably wouldn’t respond and just leave me on read, and I would deserve it.
Instead, I start my car and drive back to my quiet apartment. I pull up game film on our next opponent and watch it until my eyes are heavy and I drift off to sleep.
FORTY-NINE
REAGAN
Distraction is the name of the game I play these days. If I’m not in class, I’m either studying, eating, or asleep. When it comes to basketball, I am the last one on the bus and the first one off. At games, I sit the farthest from the players that I can, and I leave as soon as the game is over. I also avoid the practice gym at all costs. I’ve even started getting rides with Lindsey or coordinating to the minute so that I don’t see Riggs. The sight of him brings a flood of emotion that I can’t deal with right now.
I’m in the middle of reading ahead for next week’s classes when I hear the doorbell ring. I don’t remember Jordan saying someone was stopping by, so I’m at a loss as to who it could be.
A twinge of fear races through me at the thought that it might be Riggs. But as soon as I feel it, I lose it because he won’t show up here. We haven’t talked to each other since my little speech at his first game back, but I have been watching him from a distance. Very stalker-like, honestly. Totally healthy and normal over here.
“I’ll get it.” I hear Jordan say before he walks out of the kitchen and over to the front door. Pulling it open, I hear a small gasp of surprise come out of his mouth.
Who is at the door?
I don’t hear what they’re saying because it sounds almost like a whisper between them. I wonder if Jordan finally has a date. Or maybe it really is Riggs, and he’s making him leave.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath to calm my insides because I’m one butterfly away from flying off this couch. I’m so anxious.
“Reagan.” I hear Jordan say my name from behind the couch. I don’t remember hearing him walk over this way.
“Yeah?” I reply.
“You have a visitor. Should I let her in?” My brother has been amazing to me these last couple of weeks. Shockingly, he’s also been a good friend and teammate to Riggs. I told him not to hold all the things between us against him because he’s grieving and needs his team.
“Who is it?” I have no idea who would be visiting me. If it were Mack or my mom, they’d have just walked in the house without even knocking.
“I’ll go let her in, okay?” He’s already walking away to get the woman, and I didn’t answer whether I wanted to see her.
