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“I’ll think about it.” I click off the call, then step off the treadmill and hit the reset button.
Maybe this is how it goes for everyone. Even the brightest stars fade into obscurity with time.
I toss my towel in the bin and head for the door.
Nova calling me last night was a big deal. Not only because it’s the first she’s reached out since she returned to Denver, but because whether she meant to or not, it wasn’t only a phone call.
She needed someone to be there for her. She asked me.
Seeing her work online, I couldn’t help letting her know how proud I was. I wanted to let whoever made her feel like shit about her work have it.
The irony is, looking back, I made her feel like shit for the moments of happiness she found in LA.
Back in my condo, I go to the bag I packed when I hurried back to see Coach. It’s mostly clothes and essentials, but there was one other item I shoved in the front pocket.
The journal Nova made me as a Christmas gift last year.
I open it to the blank front page again.
This time, the empty space feels a little less like a void and a little more like possibility.
* * *
“I’m taking him out for the afternoon,” I repeat.
The nurse looks at me hard. “Have him back by five.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Coach says.
After the workout, I still have pent-up energy, so I bust Coach out of the care home where he’s convalescing.
“Get me out of this thing,” he mutters as we breach the doors with his wheelchair.
“Nope. You can use it when you get out of the car.” I help him in, then pack the chair into the back of my vehicle. “I’m taking you for a drive. That’s it.”
“Pssh. I need fresh air.”
“Crack a window.”
He side-eyes me.
“Heard you got traded to LA,” he says.
There’s a full minute of silence, then I burst out laughing. “Yeah. Yeah, I did.”
“We got Kyle for you. That’s a good deal.”
“You ever meet Kyle?”
“He’s a good player.”
“Who only cares about money and himself.”
“What do you care about now that you’ve got everything you could want?”
“World peace,” I say.
“Alright, Miss America.”
