Page 5 of It's Always Sonny

“I’m good, man. I’m really good. I’m a sophomore and already have college scouts talking to my mom. We can’t afford college otherwise. You know how expensive Club sports are. My mom works two jobs to pay for all the fees. If I don’t recover, all that money will be for nothing, and I have to go to college. I have to make it. I have to pay her back for everything.”

I nod. “That’s a lot of pressure, and I’m not going to sit here and tell you not to worry about money. But can I say something?”

Carlos meets my eye now.

“If you can’t play again, you’ll be okay. Yeah, your mom spent a lot of money getting you here, but you’ve learned skills playing basketball that have nothing to do with the sport. Those skills translate to a lot of other fields, and the fact that you’ve worked so hard to get so good tells me you have a lot of hustle. That’ll serve you anywhere. What do you like most in school?” His mom is coming back now.

“I kind of like biology.”

“Good. Work hard at it. Chase your dreams, sure, but don’t close yourself off so that basketball is your whole identity. You get me?”

Carlos nods. “Yeah, I get you.”

I hold my fist out to him and he bumps his fist into mine. “You’ll be okay, man.”

Beyond Carlos, his mom catches my eye and mouths, “Thank you.”

Michael walks over to us. “All right, champ, let’s go talk.”

I start standing and then pause, looking at Carlos. “I know cell phones aren’t allowed, but could I take a selfie with you?”

Carlos’s dark eyes widen, and for a moment, they remind me of another pair of eyes, eyes I try not to think about. “You want a selfie with me?”

“Yeah. For when you’re a famous biologist-slash-basketball player. Or electrician. Or for when you own two Chili’s franchises. Whatever it is, one day, I want to be able to show people I knew you when.”

Carlos laughs.

“And I want you to text me to tell me if you’re getting surgery or not. Is that okay?”

“Uh, yeah, definitely.”

“Is that okay with you?” I ask Carlos’s mom. She nods.

We take the selfie, and Carlos looks—there’s no better word for it—elated. I get his number and plug it into my phone. Michael’s waiting as patiently as an elite New York sports agent can wait.

Carlos gets called back before Michael and I can leave. Because there’s no one else in the waiting room, Michael sits back down and gestures for me to do the same.

“Sit, elevate that knee. We can’t risk you not making a full recovery.”

“It’s a mild sprain. I’ll make a full recovery,” I reassure him.

“Love to hear it. Now listen, let’s talk leverage. We’ve got it. Your injury is a nothing burger. You won the Waves their first Super Bowl ring in franchise history. We hold the cards. Let’s play ‘em.”

“Okay,” I say. I love playing for the Waves. It’s only been a year, but this is the most at home I’ve felt on a team yet, and I’d like to keep it that way. I’m a military brat—my dad is a recently retired Army Chaplain—and I’ve never spent more than a couple years in one place.

Nowhere ever felt like home.

I studied at the University of Chicago for two years, and it’s as long as I’d ever been anywhere. Yet in those two years, I thought I finally found my home, not in a place, but in a person. My ex, PJ.

Parker Jane.

I loved her more than anything. More than everything. I’ve never clicked with anyone the way I did with her. It was so much more than attraction, and it certainly wasn’t compatibility, because we’re about as opposite as they come.

But man, did we click. She was so frosty and her shell was so tough. Earning even a quirk of her lips was better than any Super Bowl. I made it my mission to earn those quirks on the regular.

I succeeded.

It ended as swiftly as it started, though. One day, we were making plans to go to my sister’s wedding. The next day, she ended things so abruptly, it took me years to recover.

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