Jordan stands up like he’s got a thousand-pound barbell on his shoulders. “Fine. We’ll be here.”
Reaching out my hand, I pat him on the shoulder. “Whatever happens, I promise to help you get through this.”
“Thanks, Coach.”
“Now head back out there and burn off some steam. It’ll wear you out and help you get a good night’s sleep tonight.”
“That won’t be possible. My world as I know it ends tomorrow, which is not something I will be able to put out of my mind.”
“Try to think of it as your new life starting tomorrow.”
He grimaces painfully. “That’s like telling a guy on death row that his execution is going to be a new beginning.”
I could get all philosophical and tell him that itwouldbe a new beginning, of sorts, but I know Jordan needs to feel what he’s feeling. Right now, that’s a lot of fear and worry.
I watch with a combination of pride and concern as he walks back out onto the court. There’s no way tomorrow will be easy on Jordan, regardless of whether or not his parents support him. But there’s also no getting out of it. You can’t keep something like a pregnancy a secret, at least not for long.
Allie blows her whistle and separates the kids into two mixed teams of both boys and girls. Then she directs them to move to opposite sides of the gym. She stands in the middle of the court and calls out, “I want to see chase down drills. No fouling, finish with your left hand, and watch your angles!” She sounds as tough as a WNBA coach, which makes me smile.
Once the teams are moving up and down the court, she walks over to me and asks, “What did you talk to Jordan about?”
“I told him he needs to step up.”
“What exactly does that mean?”
“It starts with him telling his parents. He’s going to do that here after practice in the morning.”
Her blue eyes appear to double in size. “With you?”
I nod. “Yeah. He’s scared to tell them. I figure he needs the support of another adult.” We stand silently for several moments, before I ask, “You want to eat together again tonight?” She squints her eyes in a way that makes me nervous, so I add, “As friends.”
“I can’t.” Then she looks around like she’s afraid of being overheard. “I need to see my parents. They blew me off the other night and since then I’ve found out some disturbing news.”
“You’re not pregnant, too?”
“Not even close,” she says. “My parents have started having some sexy photographs taken and they are being used to advertise the shop where they had them done.”
Laughter bursts out of me like machine gun fire. “Are you serious?”
“As a heart attack. I was walking down the street this afternoon and there they were, Margaret and Bob, staring into each other’s eyes like they were about to … you know …”
“Did the photographer get their permission to use the picture?”
“That’s the most surprising part of this whole thing. Not only did they give her permission, but they’ve been having pictures like this taken for three years!Three! I didn’t know they even, you know, did that kind of stuff anymore.” She looks adorably uncomfortable.
“They’re only what, in their fifties or sixties …” I start to say but the look she gives me causes me to stop that line of conversation. “It should be comforting to know that they still love each other.”
“It would be more comforting if they kept it to themselves and weren’t parading it around town.”
“Don’t be a killjoy.” I’m only semi-teasing.
“What would you do if it were your parents?” she demands.
“Your point is taken,” I tell her.
Crossing her arms across her chest, she arches an eyebrow. “Uh-huh.”
“Do you want to meet tomorrow?” I ask. “I can tell you how it goes with Jordan and his parents.”
