“Please welcometo her first WNBA All-Star weekend, Orlando Surge rookie, Avery Parker!”
It’s the next day, and finally time for the real game. My family came down from Boston to watch, everyone ecstatic for me. Not for the first time, I’m thankful that the WNBA season is during the NBA and college offseason, so my siblings can all join.
Even the reserves get introduced, so I stand up when my name is called, smiling and waving to the screaming Barclay Center crowd, which numbers around sixteen thousand people.
“God, I love New York,” the forward from Minnesota sitting next to me says.
I don’t get a lot of minutes, with so many superstars here.
However, Sarah and I have a special moment with a “give and go” play—where I pass it to her, cut to the basket, and she sends it back to me for a layup.
It’s not a hard play to execute, but the speed at which we move the ball, without any need for verbal cues, makes it exciting.
“Ooooh, we know they’ll be bringing that one back in the playoffs,” the announcer calls out.
The All-Star game is a more relaxed environment, intended for entertainment as much as anything, so we ham it up. Sarahcomes over to me and does a little dance, and makes me join her for a second round, before we both burst out laughing.
So much for me not being “fun” or “cheerful,” right?
After the game, I head over to where my family is sitting—third-row seats for my parents, siblings, and Hazel.
“There’s our girl,” Mom says as I approach them.
“YAYYYYY,” Hazel screams while she jumps up and down.
My siblings give me a hug in succession, while I come to Dad last.
“So proud of you, Aves,” he says as he embraces me deeply.
“Thanks, Dad.”
I start to pull away, but he only loosens his hold slightly. Looking at me eye to eye for a beat, a mixture of pride and apology in his expression.
Then he leans down, so his mouth is near my right ear and no one else can hear.
“I’m sorry I missed so many of these moments before. I can’t tell you how much I regret that. I’m so blessed to have you as a daughter, and I can’t wait to watch you achieve whatever you want.”
I exhale as he stands to his full six-foot-seven inches, trying to move past my shock. Dad has never said anything like this. And his face shows a slight sign of…nerves?
My heart assimilates the emotion that’s weaving through my chest at his words, and, even more quickly, my head processes that he’s taken a big step to change things.
A step I don’t want us to backslide from.
“That means a lot, Dad.” I smile, and he switches to a relieved expression.
“I know I have a lot to make up for, but I would love to have the chance.”
I nod, and he finally breaks our hold, the corners of his own lips turning up slowly.
“PAUL AND AVERY! CAN WE GET A PICTURE?” shouts a photographer from somewhere close by.
Dad seems more confident than me where the voice is coming from.
“This is Avery’s time,” he says, shaking his head. “Why don’t you get a picture of her with the kids?” The kids being my siblings.
Seconds later, we shuffle under the nearby basket—Dylan, Remy, Jamie, and me. Lined up in order of age, arms linked behind our backs.
“Wait, don’t forget me, Daddy,” Hazel says, breaking free of Mom’s arms to stand on Dylan’s open side.
