“No.” She doesn’t offer anything else.
“What’s up, Leah?” I don’t want to intrude in whatever isgoing on with her, but I can’t help but feel like she may need someone to talk to.
“I can’t tell you,” she says. “I mean, it’s not my business to share.”
“Are you skipping to help a friend?” I guess.
“I am.”
Putting my arm around her shoulder, I tell her, “Go ahead and go. But you’ll be back tomorrow, right?”
“You bet I will!” She forces a smile before adding, “Thanks, Miss Rogers. I appreciate it and I promise that if this weren’t really important, I wouldn’t be asking.”
As Leah runs off, I remember the amount of drama associated with being her age. Her friend’s problem could be nothing bigger than finding out someone is gossiping about her, but kids feel things hard. Probably because they haven’t been beaten down enough yet to realize how commonplace that experience can be.
During practice, I spend a lot of time trying to avoid Noah. Instead of scrimmaging this afternoon, we run the kids through a series of shooting drills. Luckily, this keeps us at hoops across the court from each other.
While teaching the girls the finer points of a reverse layup, I can’t help but glance across the gym. Noah is working on passing drills, and he’s shouting, “Go to the ball, don’t wait for it to come to you!” To illustrate his point, he intercepts any number of passes where the receiver doesn’t move quickly enough.
Meanwhile, I continue on to rebounds. “Do not stop to dribble when you rebound,” I tell my team. “Just grab the ball and shoot it before anyone can stop you.”
“But what if you don’t have a good shot?” Peyton wants to know.
“Then bounce pass it out of the post,” I tell her. “But do it fast.”
“Why a bounce pass?” someone else asks.
“Because on a rebound everyone is expecting you to shoot so they’re looking up, not down.”
The girls work hard on rebounds, but it’s clearly not their strong suit. At five forty-five, I tell them, “I’m meeting my parents for supper tonight, so I’m going to head out. You can do the same or stay as long as Coach Riley is here.”
I don’t even bother waving to Noah before I leave. I just book it out of there as fast as my feet will carry me.
Once I’m in my car, I turn the heater up and lean my head against the headrest. Closing my eyes, I take a few deep breaths. Noah wants to be my friend. He’s not hitting on me. I should be thrilled by this, but somehow I’m not. If it had been longer since my breakup, and I was ready to date, he would certainly be my first choice. Except, I remind myself, he wants kids and I can’t give him those.
It's not like I think he wants to marry me and start a family, but once you hit your late twenties, you need to be pragmatic about who you date. You can’t let yourself get involved with someone whose life is on a different trajectory from yours.
Of course, we aren’t dating. We are only friends.Do you hear that, Allie?You and Noah are friends. Nothing more.
Shifting into reverse, I make quick work of driving to my parents’ house. As I pull into the driveway, I realize that it feels like weeks since I’ve been here, not days.
I walk through the front door to find all the lights are off. Flipping on all the switches nearby, the area illuminates, and I call out, “Hello? Where is everyone?”
When there’s no answer, I walk into the kitchen and out the door that leads to the garage. Both of their cars are gone. What in the world?
Going back inside, I open the refrigerator door and take out a cold can of pop. I crack the top open and take a sip, wondering if I somehow got the day wrong. Then I walk back into the living room where I sit on the sofa for twenty minutes before texting our group thread.
Me:
Where are you? I thought we were having dinner tonight?
I wait for thirty minutes, and when they don’t show, I leave them a note.
I thought we were meeting for supper tonight. I have plans tomorrow night, but let me know when you want to reschedule.
Allie
I can’t help but feel annoyed as I go back out to my car. First of all, how is it my parents haven’t figured out I don’t live with them anymore? You’d think they would have called me on that days ago. But to stand me up for dinner? That’s just rude. I may not have had much of a life since moving back to Elk Lake, but I did start a new job. They should at least be interested in hearing about that.
