Xavier
It had been two weeks since I had seen Phoebe.
The last time I saw her was when she showed up at my door.
I wasn’t expecting her to pop up because I truly thought she stood me up.
Being with Apple wasn’t what either of them thought, but I also didn’t explain.
Phoebe was on some other time, which let me know she had to be fucking with other niggas.
Usually, I never tripped if a girl was with other guys because one: I kept my shit safe, and two: I wasn’t looking for anything. However, I was starting to like Phoebe.
I shifted my mind because today I had physical therapy, and the goal was to try to get back on the court before March Madness.
Not only did I want to get back to what I loved, but I also decided to invest more time in my own work.
Although my brother said he didn’t have a problem with helping me out by completing some of my assignments for me, I knew it was because he was loyal to me.
Jalen honestly should have been here. Even with his speech impediment, the nigga was smart as shit.
To me, my brother deserved to experience the same moments I had, but my and Mison’s selfishness kept him from what could have been a great thing for him.
I lay on the table waiting for the trainer to walk in.
Although I wasn’t on my coach’s good side, he still recommended I come to the rehabilitation center, which was about a block away from the campus.
I was praying for some good news because this shit was blowing me.
While I waited, I thought of ways to convince Jalen to apply here at TSU and contemplated what kind of pull I would need to get him in.
That was when it came to me, and I called up the one person who could possibly make that happen or use his gift of gab to make some shit shake.
When he answered on the first ring, I felt nervous.
“Talk to me!”
“Uh, sup, Chev?”
“Streets, what’s the word? You don’t call me, so something has to be up.”
This nigga and his know-it-all mentality. “I want to know if you can do me a solid or try.”
“I’m not the magic man, but I’m listening.”
With hesitance I continued. “I know you don’t get along with your grandad and shit, but do you think you can, like, talk to the nigga to get Jalen in here? Before you ask, just know it’s a lot to explain, and I will fill you in during spring break.”
He heckled loudly. “The grouch nigga coming to me for help instead of helping himself. First, I don’t do a favor without knowing everything.
Second, my wife is taking me on vacation during spring break, so I won’t be here.
Pick the day and time, and I’ll drive up. Besides, I need to come see Samara.”
Man, fuck! The nigga was nosy as hell, and I should have known before calling. “You know what, Chev? Never mind. I got it.”
“What was that? You want me up there this weekend?”
“Chev, I didn’t—”
He hung up.
“Fuck!” I shouted.
I had been so caught up on the phone with Chevy that I hadn’t noticed anyone come into the room.
“Mr. Keyton, excuse me!” the male trainer shouted.
I slid the phone in my pocket. “My-my bad.”
For the next hour, my ankle was tortured. I tried walking without the boot, and the pain wasn’t as bad, but it was still there. I asked whether I would be ready by March, if I kept this up, and the answer was simple. “No.”
Anything was possible in my eyes, and I knew one person who could help me.
The only thing was the nigga and I didn’t get along.
Percy. He was the only person I knew who had gone through something similar, so maybe if he did me this favor, I could do him one in return.
I was going to ask him when I got back to my room, but in the meantime, I was going to the court.
When I got back to the school, I headed to the gym. I expected to see people in here, but it was empty.
I limped over to the cart of basketballs, I picked one up, and I dribbled it a few times. After taking a slight pause as I gazed at the basket, I dribbled again. “I’m going to be a fucking star,” I whispered.
Swoosh!
I snatched another one up, now moving my upper body as if I were crossing someone. “Black boy dream.”
Swoosh!
I grabbed another. This time, I tried doing a little footwork. “Shit!” I hissed.
I stopped and stared at the ball because I knew that shit was real. I dropped my head and took a deep breath. “I’ll see you next season. Hopefully, my game is still there,” I mumbled.
I bent my knees slightly, dribbled, and flexed my wrist, releasing the ball into the air. It bounced off the rim of the basket, missing it. I shook my head. Even the universe knew that was bullshit. I backed away and turned to see my coach standing there. He walked over to me.
“Don’t give up. Look, maybe you need a mentor.
Someone who’s been where you are. Maybe show you that with or without basketball, there are still great things you can do out there.
Don’t limit yourself because if this can happen to you while in college, it can happen to you in the league.
I know someone who is looking for a little help during spring break.
If you’re not doing anything, I would love to recommend you. ”
Honestly, I didn’t care. Since the season started, I’d sat back at every home game and watched my team win and lose without me.
The shit was a hard pill to swallow. Now that we were back in a new semester, I had to repeat the same shit all over again.
We were coming up on the first home game, and I wasn’t interested in going to it, and I was even less interested in this mentorship. I shrugged. He gave me a slow nod.
“I will keep you updated. Just keep your head up. I’ll see you at the game.”
When I left the gym, I left my emotions for the game as well. It was time to navigate in my own way, which meant healing and getting myself in order now that I had decided to no longer use my brother as a cushion.