Page 64 of Full Court Love
It all comes back to protecting Lucy.
For a moment, as I listened to AJ, I thought maybe I could follow her example. But I know it’s not that simple. It never has been. There’s a reason I did what I did. There’s a reason I’m putting myself through the worst heartache I’ve ever experienced.
My father is a person who will never be satisfied.
I used to think I could do it. If I just played well and made varsity, he’d be happy. He wasn’t. Then I thought if I justearned a scholarship, he’d be proud of me. He wasn’t. Next, I let myself believe if I was a good college basketball player, he’d be content with everything we had. It was not the case.
Soon, the sponsorship deals entered the picture–there was real money at stake. He was insatiable in his pursuit of deals and partnerships. His greed knew no bounds. That’s when I finally recognized I could never actually give him what he wanted.
Yet I still try.
I look back up at AJ, who has been patiently sitting in the heavy silence with me.
“I appreciate you coming over here. I’m so glad Lucy has a friend like you. But it’s not that simple. I wish things were different, but they aren’t.”
She stands up and turns to leave. Stopping in the doorway, she looks over her shoulder at me.
“You know, I genuinely thought you’d fight for her. I actually believed in you. I’m really disappointed.”
Her words cut me like a knife.
She saw the good in me and I let her down–just like I did to Lucy.
AJ’s right about one thing: I’m a coward.
CHAPTER 27
LUCY
I’m being kidnapped. That’s what I’ve decided to call it. My roommates are all back and I leave in a couple days for the conference tournament. They decided the best send-off was taking me and my still-swollen cankle out to a karaoke bar tonight.
Are any of us good singers? Absolutely not.
Going out is the last thing I want to do. Every minute I’m not in class, practice, or rehab, I’ve been lying in bed watching rom-coms. It feels therapeutic. Or monumentally stupid. I’m still deciding, but it’s definitely bittersweet.
The girl is always perfection–I mean, all these girls are like barely five feet tall, and I bet none of them have ankles the size and color of a red onion.
The guy is always tall, dark, and handsome–okay, that one might hit a little too close to home. Jordan is nothing if not all those things. Every man in these movies reminds of him, so maybe this isn’t the best idea.
The toughest and most beautiful part is that they all end happily. They overcome insurmountable odds and find their way back to each other. That’s the part I most certainly do not have at the moment.
No fairytale ending in sight.
I’ve cried during every movie, obviously. Why do so many of these girls not have dads? That just feels unfair–to them, to me in my current state, to all girls with daddy issues and abandonment issues.
I grab another tissue and blow as the tears leak out again. Maybe this was the wakeup call I needed. I was getting sidetracked. Basketball needs to be my focus. It’s the only thing actually within my control. Even when I get injured, I have the power to work my way back. But no matter how hard I work with Jordan, I can’t force him to be with me.
Basketball is controllable.
It provides me attainable goals. It’s always been the thing I can escape to when it feels like the world is collapsing around me. After my dad died, I spent every day on the court. I turned off my brain. And my heart.
I dribbled so hard, the seams started coming apart on my ball. I shot so many times, I tore the net. I pushed the despair away until I finally reached a breaking point. I thought I could outrun the pain, but it caught up to me eventually.
Cue anxiety attacks.
Before my first few middle school games, I had to sprint off the court during warmups. I’d hide in the bathroom until it passed, and I wasn’t old enough to know what was going on or ask for help. I would sit on the toilet while the world closed in on me.
At that point in my life, grief was such a constant companion that I assumed I would never find the light again.