Chapter 11 Octavia
Eleven
Octavia
I took Aleesa to the next semifinal home game. It was the last home game of the season, and she missed her daddy.
Luckily, Davina was able to join us. We sat on the second row, swarmed by fans in red or black uniforms, face paint, or curly wigs.
“How ihh eheryin wit wurr?”
I looked at my sister, who had a mouth full of hot dog. “What?” I laughed.
She chewed some more before swallowing. “I said ‘How is everything with work?’”
“Oh. It’s fine. But stop talking with your mouth full. You know it grosses me out.”
She rolled her eyes, taking another bite of hot dog. After chugging down some Diet Coke, she said, “I really need to lay off the carbs. How am I going to fit into my dress if I’m eating stadium food?”
“Didn’t you say you hadn’t eaten all day?”
“I didn’t,” she confirmed. “I was rushing back from that meeting in Denver so I could make this game. Deke really wanted me to come.”
“Well, if you ask me, stadium food is better than no food.” My sister had a bad habit of skipping meals if she got too consumed with work. “I’m surprised Tish let you go all day without eating.”
“Tish wasn’t with me for that meeting,” Davina told me. “She’s on a little getaway with her man.”
“Ah.”
“But seriously. Work is good? No issues?” She eyed Aleesa, who sat in the seat between us and was staring up at the massive jumbotron.
“No, not really. I mean, Grumpy Giant is still a little closed off, but his attitude toward me is a lot better.”
“Is it?” Her brown eyes expanded as she tucked a curl behind her ear. “In what way?”
I hesitated and she noticed. Her head cocked, and her eyes narrowed.
“Did something happen?” she asked with a whisper of a smile.
“No, no.” I waved a dismissive hand, shaking my head.
I wasn’t even sure why I was hesitating.
I told Davina everything. But . . . this felt like something I didn’t need to share.
Javier had confided in me, and I respected that.
It felt wrong to repeat any of what he’d said the day Aleesa had a stomachache.
“Tavia?” Davina called in her big sister voice.
I looked into her curious eyes before glancing down at Aleesa. She clapped and squealed as the Raven’s mascot ran onto the court, flapping its big black wings.
“Okay. Don’t tell Deke, because I don’t know if I should even be sharing this, but he talked a little about his wife for the first time a few days ago.”
“Oh.” My sister shifted in her seat, causing her gold bangles to rattle. “What did he say about her?”
“To sum it up? Basically, he wishes she were here taking care of his baby girl instead of him. He said it was hard to parent through grief. And I can tell he feels so much pressure and everyone has all these expectations of him. But . . . I don’t know, Vina.
It seems to really be weighing him down.
I’ve never seen him like he was that morning. He looked so . . . broken and sad.”
“Because he is.” My sister sat back in her chair with a sigh. “That’s why I told you to take it easy on him. He’s pretending to get by with his grumpy ways, but . . . I know a broken person when I see one.”
She paused, and we both took the opportunity to look at the court, where a woman was doing some kind of bird dance with the mascot. This, of course, made Aleesa giggle.
“I think you just have to get to know him a bit more, and vice versa,” Vina said. “This summer will probably help with that since he’ll be home more.”
“Yeah,” I murmured. “Maybe.”
An announcer’s voice broke through the speakers of the arena, and Aleesa jolted in her chair.
“Ah! Tava, it’s loud!” she yelled, covering her ears. She was hit or miss about the noise. During some games, she was tolerant of the booming voice flowing through the arena. Other times, like now, it was too loud and startled her.
I dug into her backpack, rooting around for her noise-canceling headphones. After placing them over her ears, I picked her up from her chair and placed her on my lap. Now content, she kicked her feet because she knew what was coming next.
After the dancers did their thing, the arena darkened, minus the spotlight revealing the player tunnel. The announcer raved about the Ravens before calling each one onto the floor.
When number eight was announced and the name Javier Valdez echoed around us, Aleesa clapped, and I stood with her in my arms so we could cheer.
The first thing he always did when running out was turn his head to look for his daughter.
“That’s Daddy!” she squealed. “Hi, Daddy!”
Her squeal was adorable, and her joy was infectious. I smiled and waved with her as Javier blew a kiss. He always did this—blew her a kiss, then smiled as he jogged toward the lineup—but there was something about it today that caught me off guard.
Maybe because right after doing it, he looked me in the eyes with that same smile and bobbed his head.
Or maybe my mind was playing tricks on me.
I tore my eyes away when Deke Bishop was called to the floor and the arena burst into an uproar. That was the thing about my future brother-in-law. Everyone loved him. I was positive that 90 percent of the audience were specifically here to see him.
Deke jogged out with that cocky smile of his, waved at the crowd, and then looked our way. He pressed two fingers to his lips, kissed them, and threw them in the air, eyes locked on Davina.
She kissed her fingers to return his love.
“Ugh,” I groaned. “Y’all are so in love. It makes me sick.”
She bumped me with her shoulder, blushing. “Don’t be a hater.”
“I need to tell you something.” I glanced at Davina after pulling my gaze from the jumbotron.
She turned her head, finding my eyes. “What’s up?”
“Luther emailed me.”
Her face immediately twisted into a frown. “And said what?”
“He said he moved to Atlanta and has a job with some tech company. He also said he saw me in the crowd during one of the games, with Aleesa, so he assumes I’m in Atlanta, too, and wants to meet up. He claims he’s changing his ways.” I rolled my eyes.
Davina gave me a careful once-over. “You’re not considering it, are you?”
“No—girl, hell no!” I practically shrieked and was glad Aleesa was tuned out, too busy watching the players run back and forth on the court.
Vina’s shoulders slumped with relief. “Good. ’Cause he doesn’t deserve any of your time anymore. He lost that privilege the moment he disrespected you.”
“I just don’t get how he found my new email address,” I said, watching one of the Ravens miss a layup. The crowd groaned in unison.
“Did he say what kind of tech company he’s working for?”
“No . . . but I do remember him always talking about hacking and how easy it was to find someone’s information.” I shuddered at the idea of him digging deep into the web just to find an email address for me. “I should’ve known better.”
When I left Luther, I had changed my phone number and abandoned my email address to make a new one that didn’t have my first or last name, and I had been glad that I’d never given him Mama’s address.
Mama had met him once during a dinner at Luther’s and my place and had told me the next day that she didn’t like him. That was in the beginning of our relationship. I remember being so upset with her for being judgmental and not accepting him, but now I could see why she’d said it.
She’d seen something in him that I couldn’t see. Something . . . dangerous. Davina said something when she met him, too—that there was something off about him. But my sister, though fiercely protective, knew when to back off. She told me I would see the truth eventually.
Luther would tell me that my family was crazy for thinking so badly about him, and I let him manipulate me into thinking my family actually were the crazy ones.
“If I were you, I would delete his email and act like you never saw it. Your life is way better without him in it, sis.”
“Yeah.” I sighed. “You’re right.” I whipped out my phone, went to my emails, and surfed until I found it. “Deleted,” I said after hitting the trash icon. I don’t know why I hadn’t done that sooner. That action alone brought me so much relief.
But that same night, while alone in the guesthouse, hearing crickets chirp and the wind rustle, I took it upon myself to search for Luther on Instagram.
I hadn’t done this in years, but there was something niggling at my brain, begging to see if he had changed. His Instagram handle was the same. LuthTooReal.
“Stupid username,” I mumbled.
His most recent image was of him posing with a group of men. They all wore the same pastel-blue shirts with a logo on the chest.
CordTech.
The next image showed him dressed in a suit, standing in front of a church, with the caption Praise God and the prayer-hands emoji.
Last I checked, Luther had too much of a god complex to consider religion.
Another image showed him sitting on the beach with the caption trying to let go of regrets.
That’s when I closed the app.
My heart was much too soft to go through his pictures, reminiscing about certain things, like how well kept his beard was or the dark waves in his hair. That light-brown skin, the crooked smile, and those ocher eyes.
Luther was attractive, but his looks were deceptive. Maybe he had changed. Maybe he hadn’t.
But for what it was worth, I really hoped he was a better man. If he truly had altered his ways, I wished him all the luck in finding someone who found him worthy.