Chapter Three
Taylor
The sharp echo of basketballs bouncing on the polished wood floor fills my ears as I step into MSU’s cavernous gymnasium. Todd is already here, sweating it out with his teammates, so I wave to him as I climb the bleachers.
I observe each sports team—except the baseball team, of course—once a week for my article in the student newspaper, The Beacon. It’s one of the things I’m bound to miss after graduation, but I’m still holding out hope I can be close to the games in other ways.
I take out my tablet, intending to check my email, when the cheerleaders walk in on their way to practice. I roll my eyes as Samantha, the head cheerleader and Todd’s ex-girlfriend, runs a manicured nail down the point guard’s glistening chest.
I look in Todd’s direction, wondering what his reaction is to their blatant flirtation, but he isn’t paying any attention to them, throwing free throws instead.
For some reason, this makes me smile as I turn back to my tablet, but my face falls just as fast when I see an email from Emma’s principal, informing our mother of her unapproved absence.
Only my mother doesn’t get these emails—I do.
I run a hand down my face and decide to make the two-hour drive to Cleveland after practice to talk some sense into my sister instead of sending a text that will just be ignored.
Closing out of my emails, I try to focus on practice and drafting this week’s feature articles.
The team runs through various drills and game scenarios, and even though I’m supposed to be observing the whole team, I can’t help but focus on Todd.
He’s a monster on defense—arms everywhere, barking out switches—and on offense the ball sings off his fingers, dropping through the net with crisp precision.
He might be my best friend but I’m not immune to his charisma. Occasionally, he looks up and catches me staring, and I raise my eyebrow each time. He responds with a lopsided grin that says yeah, I see you and then goes right back to bullying the paint.
By the time the players hit the showers, I have two pages of notes and sporadic thoughts about my next steps post-graduation.
Sports journalism, I remind myself. It makes the most sense, given how much I enjoy English.
Not as much as playing baseball, but on the right beat, I’ll still be able to be close to the game without actually being in it.
“You want to go grab tacos and margaritas?” Todd’s voice cuts through my thoughts. “Celebrate our last first day of spring semester?”
I readjust my bag on my shoulder. “I need to go check on Emma—she skipped school today.”
Todd sighs. “All right, I’ll see you later, then.”
I hug him, and for a moment, I just bask in his warmth.
“I’ll try not to be too late,” I say as I pull away, already missing the warmth of his arms around me.
“Drive safe.”
I offer him a strained smile as I pull out of the parking lot, wishing I could stay with him rather than go home—if I can even call it that.
The radio plays quietly in the background as the highway stretches out in front of me.
I don’t speed, I don’t shift lanes unless I have to—I just drive with one hand loose on the wheel.
If I didn’t know any better, I’d think my Corolla was piloting us both, muscle memory mapping each mile from campus to the cluster of brick bungalows that make up my childhood neighborhood.
After nearly four years of these round trips, I could probably do them in my sleep, which is more than I can say for the sleep I actually get.
By the time I pull into my driveway, my stomach is in a knot but I ignore it, just wanting to accomplish what I set out to do.
I push my shoulders back and walk into my house to find my mother on the sofa, papers spread out on the coffee table in front of her, a glass of red wine in her hand.
I start up the steps, trying to avoid a confrontation, but she calls to me.
“You aren’t going to say hello to me?”
Her tone is edged with false sincerity, which is one of her ploys.
Sighing, I return to the archway connecting the hallway to the living room and cross my arms over my chest. “What do you want, Mother?”
“Why don’t you sit down and tell me about your day?”
Her eyes are bloodshot, and the bottle next to her is half-empty.
I level my gaze on her. “We both know that’s not what you really want.”
“No, it surely isn’t.” She downs the contents of her glass in one gulp. “How about I tell you about my day, then? My salary was cut, seems like the economy isn’t getting better after all. I don’t know why I wanted to make partner, I get absolutely no benefits from it.”
“What does that have to do with me?”
She pours herself another glass, watching me out of the corner of her eye.
“Well, obviously I won’t be able to subsidize your living expenses this semester.
Of course, I’m going to do my best to fight the decision, but until the time comes when they realize what a mistake they’ve made, we’re going to have to tighten our belts. ”
I school my expression, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of affecting me. “So you’re not going to be buying wine anymore? I mean, if we have to tighten our belts, I’d say adult beverages should be the first thing to go.”
She laughs mockingly. “You have a lot to learn, sweetie.”
“What exactly should I be learning?”
“That we can’t always get what we want. I can’t afford your rent on top of my expenses. You’ll just have to move back home and commute until graduation.”
“Oh, I get it now—I have to be inconvenienced so you can wallow in your own self-pity with a glass of wine in hand.”
The bottle flies past my head and crashes into the wall before I can comprehend what’s happening. I stand there, frozen, as the wine drips down the wallpaper, wondering if throwing a bottle at me even affects her.
It doesn’t.
My reason for coming completely forgotten, I return to my car and drive the one hundred forty-three miles back to Crestwood.