Chapter 25
Jabari
“Have a seat, Crank.”
I do as told, trying not to fidget in my chair. I have no idea why Coach has called me into the office, and that makes me want to squirm.
“Have you given any thought to what you might do after you retire?”
You mean, after the Warriors force me to retire? Yeah, only every waking moment. “Not really,” I reply.
Coach hums. What does that mean? What are his body language and facial cues saying? What is he thinking? Does he have something in mind? Something I’ll like? Because my qualifications have dwindled since being declared legally blind.
“Biz ops called and asked if you’d be interested in helping them in their charitable-donation procurement.”
I blink. “I don’t know what that is.”
“Sorry. Let me back up,” Coach says.
“Please.” Because if there’s some way I can be of use, maybe I won’t hate coming to the games while my teammates have all the fun.
“The higher-ups in hockey operations and business ops have been talking about your, uh, predicament.”
Makes sense. Who wouldn’t have a few words to say over the hockey player who loses his sight?
You’re not blind, just legally so. I hold in a scoff. From where I’m sitting, there’s not that much of a delineation.
“They want you to put out a statement regarding your current health status. Then after that, they want to give you an opportunity to transition to the business side of the house to keep your foot in the hockey world.”
My insides twist. So not playing but not absent either. “I’m listening.”
“We’re about to have three away games, which is an opportunity for us to connect with fans in other locations. It’s also a chance for you to find willing donors for the Warriors Foundation.”
I rub the ache beginning to throb in the center of my forehead.
How can I perform in a job I have no background in?
My bachelor’s degree is in business, sure, but that’s because I wanted to make sure no one could steal from me when I hit it big.
As it is, I hired an accountant and other people to run things to free up my time for hockey.
Schmoozing donors never entered my thoughts.
“I’m not sure what to think, Coach.”
“Well, talk to Morgan in the community relations department. She’ll give you the rundown, and you can go from there.”
“But I’m still on the team?” Uncertainty has me wanting to squirm in my chair again.
“Definitely. You’ll travel with us for game days. The front office is hoping while we’re out of town, you’ll chat with some influential people and receive some donations. You’ll make the powers that be happy.”
I guess if someone has to be content, it’s those who pay everyone’s paycheck. Right now, though, I want out of this chair and out of this room, so I can talk this over with Val. Will she agree with the Warriors and tell me to go for the opportunity?
“Thanks, Coach.” I traverse the halls that’ll take me to the front office to find Morgan. As soon as I make a couple of turns and find an empty hallway, I whip my phone out and call Val.
“Hey, you. What’s up?”
“Is this a bad time?” It’s only two in the afternoon, which means she’s probably working.
“No. I just left a meeting, so the rest of my afternoon is pretty clear. You okay?” Concern enters her voice.
I can’t help but smile. Knowing Val cares on some level—I’ll take any level I can get—eases some of the worry in my gut.
Focus. Right. I bring her up to speed. She’s completely silent as I wait for her response. Even though the quiet makes me want to come out of my own skin, I remain mute. Val is all about sorting out her emotions, and I threw a lot her way.
“You’re on your way to speak to Morgan now?”
“Yes.”
“Hmm. How about you go to the meeting with an open mind? As soon as you’re done, let’s meet up and discuss everything.”
“Can you do that?” I wince. “I mean, obviously we’ll have to meet somewhere discreet, so your family doesn’t find out.” Here’s another reminder why my desire to be with Val is selfish. She’s getting the short end of the stick. Drama with her family, a legally blind friend, and no benefits.
Where’s my brain at? Didn’t I say to remain friends with Val and not hope for anything more? But now even friendship seems like a slippery slope. Plus, there’s no way Val’s meeting with me in a public place.
“Actually, they already know we’re friends, so I see no point in pretending like we’re not.”
My brows raise. Who is this Val, and how long will she be sticking around? “Are you sure? We can meet somewhere private. Besides, I have to draft a statement and don’t want to discuss everything in public anyway.”
“Fair point. How about you come by my place? We can talk and go from there.”
Her place? I glance at the phone on instinct, then shake my head. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. I promise it’s okay. I’m okay.”
But she goes along with what others want over her own self-preservation.
Yet I don’t think Val has ever treated our friendship like that. Right now I’m going to have to trust she’s sincere when she says she’s okay.
“Thanks.” I blow out a breath. “Text me your address, and I’ll be there after this. Wait, you’re at work.”
“Yes, but I’ll be leaving soon. I should be there before your meeting is over. I have to tie up some loose ends first.”
“Okay. See you then.”
I’m not sure what to think about Val inviting me to her place, but it feels significant. Despite the weirdness with my career, I’m strangely happy.
Because of Val. She’s the missing piece.
Though maybe not the only missing part. After listening to a few other Christian and gospel songs, I’m beginning to believe there are more missing pieces in my life than I ever contemplated before. But I’ll think about that later. It’s time to find Morgan’s office and hear what she has to say.
Of course, I get lost, but thankfully, one of the cleaning staff directs me to the right place. I rap my knuckles on the doorframe, hoping it’s the right place.
“Jabari, perfect timing. I’m Morgan!”
“Nice to meet you.” I slide my hands into my pockets, so I don’t have to guess whether hers is proffered.
“Do you have time to talk right now?”
Her voice is friendly, peppy, and some of the tension in my shoulders lets up. “Yeah. I appreciate you taking the time to try and help me.”
“Actually, if you like my idea, you’ll be helping me.”
“All right, lay it on me.”
She chuckles. “It’s nothing scary. Well, I don’t imagine you’ll find it intimidating.
Basically, we have fans all over the US and some in Canada who would love to be sponsors for the Warriors Foundation.
Usually, they’re businesses that want the opportunity to have their logo in our arena or displayed somewhere on our website, et cetera.
It really depends on how much they donate to the organization. ”
I never gave much thought to how the foundation got sponsors. “And you want me to help with that?”
“Yes. I think there will be many people who would listen to a hockey player more than someone who has been in sales their whole life. We’ve gained a bad rep thanks to a few pushy people.”
Pretty sure sales is synonymous with pushy.
“I know from past events how charming you can be. You interact well with the public, and those skills would be useful to us.”
Embarrassment lights me up like a puck in the net. “Uh, thank you.”
We talk more, with Morgan laying out a whole framework for what she wants me to do.
She even shares the different contribution-tier levels for individuals and corporations.
It’s interesting learning about the charitable side of the organization from the business perspective and not as a hockey player.
I’m used to interacting with kids and smiling for the camera when need be.
The majority of my own charitable contributions are actually well out of the spotlight and not linked with the Warriors.
“Now normally I hand over a binder with all the information,” Morgan states, “but we went ahead and transcribed that material into an audio file for you.”
“Wow. Thank you so much.” Who knows what kind of time that took.
“You should have an email with the file. Let me know if you have any questions, okay?”
“I will. Um, when do you want an answer?” Or is she assuming my presence is a yes?
“Tomorrow, if possible. Since y’all are traveling, I’ll need to set your appointments around your off days. Of course, I need to know if you’re on board first.”
“And if I’m not?” I ask. Curiosity fills me as I wait for her answer.
“Then someone from biz ops will travel with you and meet with the potential donors instead.”
So no harm, no foul? Seems too good to be true, but I smile regardless, and thank Morgan for her time.
I send a voice text to Luke, letting him know I’m ready for a ride.
He’s never far from where I am. The only time he dips is if I’m going to be busy for hours.
I walk onto the street and breathe in the fresh spring air.
The cherry blossoms are probably blooming and covering the sidewalk with the pale pink petals.
I miss being able to see all the details that make spring in DC magical.
I close my eyes and attempt to remember last year’s foliage.
When I first arrived in DC from Ohio, acting the tourist seemed like a full-time job.
Mom and I went to every Smithsonian Museum plus the off-the-beaten-path museums DC offers as well.
There’s no shortage of things to see and do in the area, and now it seems like the see portion has been removed from my life.
Will I ever wake up one morning and be fine with my new normal?
Or will I still bemoan my fate ten years from now?
It’s wholly unfair that I’m unable to catalog every single facet about Val.
I want to see how she looks when laughing.
To see the color variations in her irises.
To know all the details that make her . .
. her. But at the same time, I’m thankful that not having my sight has given me the opportunity to focus on how much I enjoy her personality.
She’s got a quiet strength about her that makes me feel comfortable and like Superman all at the same time.
I send a voice text to Javier and Raimo. “I’m wavering. Maybe Val doesn’t deserve to be settled with someone like me.”
“Yo, bro, bad vision doesn’t make you less desirable. You’re still who God made you to be,” Javier replies.
“What Sanchez said. Plus, Val’s amazing. There’s a reason we picked you for her, so never forget that.”
Their words give me hope. They’re not wrong. Val is amazing. I’m glad she took pity on me to be friends. And maybe, if I’m lucky, she’ll go on a date with me.
Play the long game. Remember what the Great One said, “You miss one hundred percent of the shots you don’t take.”
Wayne Gretzsky’s advice wasn’t just for the hockey arena, but for life in general. After all, it’s what allowed Alex Ovechkin to beat Gretzsky’s goal record.
There’s no rush. You’re not going anywhere. Remember the plan to get the girl.
Because even though my career is pretty much over, I’m not planning on returning to Ohio. DC is home now.
“Mr. Hall, that was a quick day at the office,” Luke says.
I chuckle and walk toward the dark car at the curb. I was so lost in thought I didn’t even hear the vehicle pull up.
“Where to now?” Luke asks.
“Val’s house.” I pull out my cell and hand it to him. My eyes are too tired to try to work out the words.
No one tells you reading is done in your central vision, and when your vision is blurred or dark spots fill the area, reading becomes a chore you want no part of.
“All right. Got it.” He returns my phone.
“Thanks.”
The ride to Val’s house is quiet. As we get closer, I get fidgety.
What if she changes her mind about my visit?
Sure, she said she’s okay, but is she really?
Lunch last Sunday was full-on chaotic, and her family resembled something from reality TV.
Has she really been able to process all of that since the last time we saw each other?
The car stops. “We’re here.”
“Great. I’ll let you know when I need to be picked up.”
“Bet.”
A brick building stands before me. I angle my head this way and that until I’m pretty sure I know where the main entrance is. As I get closer, double doors suddenly appear in my vision. Before I can reach for a handle, they open.
“Jabari,” Val calls to me.
I come to a stop, stunned. “What are you doing down here?”
“I thought I’d come direct you to my place. Better than you asking the concierge.”
She sounds like she might be smiling so I grin. “You were just worried I’d bump into something.”
She chuckles. “More worried people will recognize you and turn this nice visit into a mob.”
“Oh yeah, because everyone knows what hockey players look like without their helmets.”
“I do.” Val threads her arms through mine, and I jolt at the contact. I quickly place my hand over hers as an excuse to touch her. She walks forward with confidence, and I have to stop myself from leaning on her.
That scent she’s wearing is intoxicating.
“How did the meeting go?”
Hmm? How can she ask me questions when I can barely keep myself upright? She smells like sunshine, and all I want to do is bury my nose in the crook of her neck.
Get it together, man.
I clear my throat. “It was interesting. Morgan seems nice.”
“Good.”
Val steps off the elevator and leads us to a door. I hear a lock disengaging, and soon we’re in her place. I can’t see everything, but I notice some plants right off.
“Are these your babies?” I gesture to the one in my peripheral vision.
“Yes.” She sounds like she’s beaming.
“Did you already sing to them?”
“No, why?”
I shrug, but inside I’m itching to know how she sounds.
She huffs. “Are you trying to find out if I’m tone deaf?”
“Maybe,” I say casually. I rock back on my heels. “Are you?”
“Absolutely not. Just you wait.”
I hear noises in the kitchen, water running, then she’s back in my space, smelling like hope.
She starts off softly as my brain tries to place the words to the song. I know this melody, but I can’t place it. Val’s not off pitch, and her voice is actually quite nice. The sound fills me with warmth. Just as she gets to the chorus, the lyrics click in my head.
“‘Here comes the sun,’” she sings.
I throw my head back and let out a deep laugh. Because this song encompasses Val so completely, and now I think I’ll have to make it her ringtone.
Oh man, I’m a goner for Val Elliott.