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Think now, suffer the repercussions later.
A fact that has both helped and gotten me in trouble more times than I can count. Today, I know it’s not for good news. What upset have I caused now?
He clears his throat, another giveaway that he isn’t happy.
The chair groans under his weight as he leans forward, flipping through a small stack of papers. “Your stats are up since last season.”
I already know this, and so does he, which is why I say nothing.
Filler.
He’s trying to drop good news before the bad. Ease into his disappointment in me. I lick at my lips, not because I’m anxious but because I’m disappointed. He doesn’t think I can handle hearing the news straight off.
My grip tightens its hold on the armrest. I snort. Sounds familiar. The only difference is the person my mind instantly rushes to couldn’t even handle that. We didn’t maneuver or gradually start to decline. She just cut me straight out of her life.
Together, not together, as easy as if I were a switch to be flipped. That was my last and firstrealrelationship.
I could laugh if I wasn’t still so bitter. The familiar sting of betrayal hits my heart and head with equal fronts. Funny how it’s been three years since she upped and moved states away without warning and that ping of anger hasn’t gone away.
It’s shrunk from a canyon to a gully with time, but the pain’s annoyingly still present. Fucking helps, but music has been my lifeline.
Mainly because after a while, she started answering my sister, a.k.a. her best fucking friend’s texts, but not mine. Mine, her boyfriend at the time, were left as unopened as her willingness to explain what happened between us.
Where did we go wrong? What didIdo incorrectly?
Seeing her for the first time at my sister’s engagement a few days ago hasn’t helped either. It brought everything back up.
Mybest friend, Rory’s now fiancée, popped the question on the last official day of school.
I drove all the way back up here as soon as I could.
I hadn’t seen the girl who single-handedly ripped out my heart in three years, but she surprised everyone by showing up for that. Okay, maybe not everyone, but I know I was more shocked than my sister and she was the one actually being proposed to.
“Your rebounding margin has improved and so has your assist-to-turnover ratio.” Coach’s eyes lift critically, watching me, but not his head as he continues to scan the papers.
This is not why I’m here. This is not why I’m here. This. Is. Not. Why. I’m. Here.
My teeth grit.
“Your free throws could use some work since your average is about the same as last season, but I have no doubt you’ll improve by the time this year’s season starts.”
Slowly I nod, following along with robotic enthusiasm. My head is a blurred mess for other reasons, but I’m not listening any less intently because he’s only ever wanted the best for me.
I know what he says is true, and my stats only attest to this fact. Free throws are something I’ve already scheduled to start working on more over the break. Sure, I can make three-pointers no problem, but get me face to face with nothing but the hoop and it’s a different story.
As backward as it sounds, making baskets has always been a strength I’ve prided myself on.Don’t think, just do.And I can, only not when I’m one on one with the hoop.
It’s the quiet. I have nothing to fill the void while I wait, ready and eager to toss the ball toward the basket. I need the empty sound filled, which is why music helps so much.
I don’t get that opportunity out there with free throws, and believe me, I’ve tried. Coach only raised a questionable brow freshman year when I brought it up and told me to get back out there and stop being a little bitch. I never mentioned it again.
Out there, I get nothing but silence and bated breaths of anticipation disguised as anxious energy. Ineedmusic, it’s the only thing that helps quiet everything else.
The papers fall from his grasp as he lets out an award-worthy dramatic sigh. Finally, we’re getting to the real matter of things. My stats are his method of stalling, no different than a warm-up before the real game starts.
My spine straightens in my seat. Whatever he’s about to tell me, I’m positive it’s not a conversation he wants to have any more than I do.
I can tell by the extra crease added onto the several that’ve lined his forehead since I arrived.
