Chapter 9 Colson
nine
Colson
Kevin
checking to make sure you’re still alive
no one’s heard from you
I stare at the messages from Kevin and my stomach turns. Today has been rough. Without the distraction of practicing with Sadie, or the kids, it’s like the only thing creeping around me is the uncertainty of what’s next.
For the first time since being out here, I miss the city, my friends.
The coffee shop I’d run to on the weekends when I wasn’t traveling for an away game.
The late night diner we’d go to after having a couple drinks.
Familiarity. Comfort. Little pockets of the city that didn’t care that I was NBA Player Colson Burke. To them, I was just Colson.
What now? Is there a next team? Do I want there to be? Is it even a possibility?
I know I’ll have to come clean about everything that led to the public blow up. I don’t expect my behavior to go unchecked, but it all feels impossible.
Kevin is one of my closest friends. The guy who I love to do nothing with. I text him back because I don’t want him to worry.
Me
alive
thanks for checking
That’s all I have in me. I don’t tell him about the shoulder rehab and he doesn’t ask. Another reason why I know he’s one of the real ones. He’s always had a knack for being interested in me as a person, not only the NBA version of me.
Once I’m sure the messages go through, I turn my phone off. The curtains aren’t closed all the way and I can see the sun is about to go down. I’ve wasted a whole day.
I’ve done nothing besides slather peanut butter and jelly on bread, sleeping on and off, and feeling like I’m in a vice grip at the hands of life. Or maybe it’s grief.
Closing my eyes, I try a technique a sports therapist gave me this season. Envisioning the sound of the waves, my feet in the sand, the water pulling in and around me. How the water feels on my skin. What does it sound like? Anything I can smell?
The thoughts keep crowding me. The beach and grounding sounds are too far away. Each time my mind wanders it’s like a kick to the dick, making me even more frustrated.
I’m in walking distance to an actual lake. Fucking idiot. Why are you trying to think about it when you could do it? I throw the blankets off me, put on socks, walk down the stairs, and put my shoes on.
I have a general sense of where the water is. I can figure this out.
Starting in the backyard, I move toward the water.
My mom and I did this once, when I gifted her the house.
She was so excited to be this close to water.
Seeing her face light up was one of my favorite parts of the trip.
I even took a picture of her—she’s standing with her feet in the water, almost to her knees, her arms out to her sides and head tipped towards the sky.
I had no idea that would be the only time we’d be together in this place. The one she dreamed of.
Fuck. I wish she was here.
While I’m beating myself up and trying not to let the darkness suck me in, I’m practically running on the sand. My breath is quick and barely like I can grab enough air. Pain travels from my shoulders down to my fingers.
I lose my socks and shoes and get my feet in the water. The cold takes my breath away but feels like it could soothe the burn I simply can’t shake.
I’ve always known what comes next. The goal was always the NBA.
I made sure I played two years in college to go in the first round of the draft—I was picked second, not first, but it was more than I could’ve hoped for.
After that, it’s been growth and building a reputation, so I can stay in the league as long as I want.
Everything else came after. I thought if I could keep basketball, grow that success, anything else would sting less.
For a while that worked. It’s like, even if I didn’t get exactly what I wanted or if things went south, at least I still had basketball.
The game kept me together until it absolutely ripped me to shreds.
It feels like there's something on my thigh. Looking down, I see it’s nothing but my trembling fingers. Couldn’t tell it was my own hands—they’re numb from holding a fist. I try rubbing my fingers together and feel nothing, the pads of them numb.
It’s shocking but the sky is what catches my attention. Streams of pink, orange, and the glow of yellow as the sun sets. Almost like pieces of summer days, chasing one another.
The brightness reminds me of my mom on the one day we made it out here. A single day. All that time we had and I couldn’t make the trip more than once. It’s not that we had a lot of time, but it makes me feel like I’m spiraling out of control.
I wasted almost an entire day today. What have I done the last few weeks? The thought of time, life, all of it slipping away is enough to beat me down. It’s enough to bring me to my knees. So, that’s what I do. Practically crumble into the water, leaning on my knees.
I let my hands fall to my sides, the fingertips grazing the water, waiting for the feeling to come back. The waves push in and around me, soaking my shorts with the lake water.
There’s nothing but the sound of water pushing into the beach and then pulling away. The water crashes, sloshes, and brings the icy bite with it. I look to see if I’ve somehow run into a tourist trap, but some quick glances show me a few people about a half mile down the beach.
It’s just me.
And good thing. Because I am a fucking mess.
I can’t even cry. The only thing I can do is feel the raw cut of helplessness, darkness, fitting for the sun going down.
The cold should pull me out of it—shock me, shake me, something—but it doesn’t.
It keeps creeping higher, threading around my legs, curling like a hand around my ribs.
And somehow that makes the emptiness worse.
It seems the lake is trying to remind me that I can still feel, but only the parts that hurt.
My chest feels hollow, scraped out. Not even a bruise. Just…space. Vast and echoing.
The water chills deeper, sliding against my skin until my whole body feels like it’s dissolving into it.
It’s almost a relief—how the cold numbs everything in the way I wish I could numb my thoughts.
The ache in my throat, the pressure behind my eyes, the exhaustion that’s been dragging at my bones for weeks—it all folds under the weight of that freezing water. Like I’m disappearing inch by inch.
I stare out over the lake, watching the colors drain from the sky, and it hits me how easy it is for something beautiful to fade right in front of you.
One moment warm, the next swallowed by gray.
I don’t know why that makes my stomach drop, but it does.
Maybe because I feel like I’m doing the same thing—blinking in and out, losing pieces of myself so quietly that no one would notice until there’s nothing left.
My breath comes out harsh, a ghost of steam in the cooling air. I wait for emotion to hit—rage, grief, anything—but all I get is a heavy drag of nothingness settling in my chest. Like the cold has seeped all the way through me, iced over everything that used to spark or burn or matter.
The waves push again, harder this time, and the cold punches up my spine in an almost personal way. My body shudders, but inside I’m still locked up. Still stuck in that dark, hollow space where even my thoughts echo back empty.
I close my eyes, letting the water climb a little higher on my shins, and the only thing I can think is that I don’t know how I got here. Not just on this beach, not just in this moment—but here, inside this version of myself that feels scraped raw and used up and…gone.
The lake keeps moving. Keeps breathing. And I sit here, frozen in place, wishing I felt alive enough to do anything.