Chapter Eighteen
Bee
The front door clicked faintly and I took that as my sign that I was free. I hadn’t lived with another human since college, and I’d be damned if I didn’t take advantage of this beautiful townhome being my home.
The bedroom Nola had so graciously let me have , had windows that faced the ocean.
Across the room, a wall contained two doors.
One revealed a bathroom with a rainfall shower head and the other, a walk-in closet.
I wondered if Nola’s room was set up the same so I padded over the light hardwood floors to check.
I should be courteous and let her have her space, but she hadn’t even bothered unpacking the two suitcases she came with.
Meanwhile I couldn’t wait to unload my titanium luggage into the org-provided bedroom furniture.
Nola’s layout mirrored mine, except she had a stunning view of a portrait of a refracted kaleidoscope. It was the type of art that would stop me dead in my tracks at a museum and I noted to remind myself to get familiar with the art scene here.
I changed into my standard home attire, sweatpants and a sports bra, to walk downstairs.
I ran my hands along the quartz countertops, and the stainless steel appliances, then found myself plopping down on the massive L-shaped couch in front of a huge television.
I would for sure be doing my best reality tv watching here.
I took a selfie and sent it in my siblings group chat.
I should be focused on unpacking, figuring how to put my best foot forward tomorrow for press and meeting the team. But man, this couch was so comfy.
The apartment felt sterile in the way a newly designed and furnished home often was.
My comfy blankets weren’t here; my random knick knacks from family vacations weren’t lined on every surface possible.
I couldn’t wait for everything I shipped to Rashida and Allison’s second home to finally get here.
I went through the rest of my messages, the majority of which were everyone from Jaguars reacting to the press conference.
My heart splintered just a tad knowing I wouldn’t be practicing with them soon, getting ready to have another run at the ring, but I closed out the thread before I could start crying.
My college friends Farrah White, Sarah Alcott, Winnie Chen, and Uba Obinna, had our own chat.
Our own little place we went to when the organizations we played for made our asses itch.
Uba’s been playing for the Boston Mayflowers, a love-hate relationship for her since the org struggled to retain a coach that could actually help them have a winning season.
I’d struggled in Jersey those first four years but was able to turn it around.
With her position as center, Uba came to the conclusion she’d just be the star of a forever-losing team.
Sarah and Winnie got lucky when they were drafted, maintaining spots on the Kansas City Buffalos, a decently stacked team that always made it to playoffs but choked in the end.
The two of them were off in China visiting Winnie’s family in the offseason, which is totally not at all suspicious to Uba and I, given Sarah was from Toronto.
We’d never received an invite to visit mainland China.
They’d been my closest friends for eight years and their bond was obvious—the two of them had connected in a way I’d only seen with Perry and Danny.
If they could catch me when I stumbled my way into too many girls’ beds as I was figuring it all out” I could wait until they shared their relationship status.
My friends had seen me through every emotion, every concussion, and the worst version of me in college.
I didn’t know what I was in college, only that I really liked kissing girls and tolerated men at best. I’d made it a performance; a sick party trick because somehow that was less scary than just being honest. Sex and dating always took a backseat during the season, but, at minimum, everyone on my team knew I was queer.
I just didn’t know how queer. Not until I’d had Nola riding my leg on the biggest night of our lives.
It wasn’t a story I could keep from them, so I’d told Winnie.
Honestly, it had been the first words out of my mouth when we left the venue and went to her hotel room for an after party.
I could still remember Winnie’s face, wide eyes, dropped jaw, and those silent slaps when she couldn’t form words.
I could always keep a secret, but I couldn’t keep my own.
I think that was just the genetic wiring of being a middle child.
I always needed to share with someone, always needed to know I was being heard.
In the silence of the apartment, the full moon so bright it provided its own light in the living room, I cringed at the memory. Now that the smoke had settled, I couldn’t believe how much I’d embarrassed myself.
Growing up, I never had a problem communicating how I felt.
In all honesty, I made my emotions everyone’s problem if things didn’t go my way.
I didn’t want to be reasonable and level-headed like Amir and Aaliyah, but I also was aware of how much space Colette and Celeste took up.
I didn’t want to be a middle child who fell into the background, or acted out just to get attention.
In my family, you spoke up, maybe even had to yell to be heard, but at the end of the day, everyone always got to voice their point of view.
The common respect I grew up with in the house was why I crashed out at work. Referees had one job, and even though that wasn’t to appease me, I expected to at least to be treated fairly. Getting fouls called on me when I broke the rules and vice versa.
But then Nola and I were in the same room. The space we took up on the court spilled over to off it. She was the child prodigy— the star—but that didn’t stop me from fighting to get my just due.
Maybe the four-year-old grudge I held kept fuel in my tank.
So I’d pushed and prodded, anything I could do to get her to snap.
I was learning that might only work on the court, because off it, I looked like an insufferable child.
After realizing you could see we were fighting for elbow space, and seeing the horrified looks on my siblings, I realized I’d taken it too far.
As per usual.
I was too scared to look at discourse online, so I texted my siblings chat again.
I resisted the urge to entertain the conversation more. I needed to focus and get my life together.
I needed to figure out how I was about to work and live with Nola Young.