Page 7 of Baller's Surprise Baby

She lets out a little laugh as she cuts up slices of pickled beets for the salad.

“Go upstairs and take a shower, dear. I know you’ve had a long day and are dying to refresh. Dinner will take another twenty minutes at least.” She knows me too well.

As I step into the shower, all of my muscles relax and the fruity scent of my shampoo fills the air. I close my eyes, thinking of how great it is to have a paycheck again, to have a means of supporting our home, to know that I have a home to support.

Just a few months ago I was living on paltry savings and driving my aunt to chemotherapy, praying she would survive both the disease and the cure. And here we are today with her first cancer free diagnosis, and a chance at a future.

It’s been several weeks since we got the news, but for a second sobs well up inside of me, pouring out of a deep well of pain and pent-up fears. Most of the time I try so hard not to let Aunt Sharon see these moments, try not to let myself get too carried away in case she notices my swollen eyes, but right now the thought that our hopes have come true is too much to bear. I was rock solid going through the cancer journey, always there for her, and ready to give her the best of me just like she did for me when I was a kid.

But this hope? Peace? A chance at a future? For so long, I was afraid. I tried not to think beyond one day at a time, and now I find that it’s the good things, the grace in my life and the promise of a future with the only real parent I’ve ever had that completely undoes me.

Once I calm down, I ease out of the steamy room on wobbly legs and collapse on the bed only to then be revived at the scent of my favorite meal coming out of the oven. I could be in a coma, but I’d find a way to drag myself downstairs for lasagna.

Pulling a comb through my hair, I throw on some sweats and a t-shirt before I make my way downstairs just in time to set the table.

When we finally sit down to eat, I wait for Aunt Sharon to say a prayer and we dig in. She’s my mother’s older sister, about fifty-eight years old now, and still likes to check in on me, so it’s no surprise when she asks about my day.

“How’re those basketball players treating you, Everly? You enjoying your time surrounded by superstars?”

I roll my eyes as I pop a piece of garlic bread into my mouth. I chew and then respond.

“Let’s just say that one of those players needs to grow up.”

“Giving you trouble, huh? Well, some boys never seem to grow up.” She passes me the salad, and I finish filling my plate while I answer.

“Nothing I can’t handle.”

She grins at me with a twinkle in her eye when she answers, “Atta girl. You hold your head up and don’t let anyone get to you.”

I smile back at her. If there’s one person who knows what it is to take your life by the hands and fight for it, it’s my aunt. We chitchat about her day and the friends she’s been catching up with now that less of her time is taken up by doctor appointments, and when the conversation circles back to my job I fill her in on a bit more.

“So, who’s the one giving you trouble at work?” She comes right to the point, and I know she’s looking for a story.

“You remember that Rachel recommended me to Ed, right – the director of the documentary?”

She nods her head, and I continue, “Well, her brother works for the Mavericks. He’s on their starting lineup.”

“Oh, that’s right! He’s really good, you know!” Her eyes light up with enthusiasm. There’s no denying we both love a little basketball.

“Yeah, so we kind of got off to a bad start, and nowadays he’s pretty much the annoying older brother.” I shrug as I play off the white lie. He’s definitely annoying, but “older brother” isn’t the vibe I get, and it certainly does not define the reaction I have to him.

“What shenanigans is Ryder getting up to these days?”

“Well, let’s see.” I tilt my head and glance at the ceiling as I try to pick. “Don’t ask me how, but today he managed to switch out my cue cards when I helped interview one of the point guards in the locker room.”

My aunt chuckles at that, and I have to admit it’s almost worth the dreadful day to be able to make her happy with my tale of woe.

“Yeah, half of the cards were normal, so I kind of got into a rhythm and then barely caught myself before asking the player what it was like to shoot hoops next to ‘Ryder’s big dick energy.’ Talk about embarrassing!”

She flat-out snorts at this, and I find myself grinning even as my cheeks pinken at the memory. He also snuck in a card asking if the player’s training diet included regularly ‘tossing a salad,’ but I opt not to repeat that one to Aunt Sharon since we’re at the dinner table. The man is dedicated, if nothing else. It’s so obvious that he’s hellbent on making me quit.

Hours later after we’ve cleared dinner and played a couple games of scrabble, the house is quiet. I make my way to the kitchen only to find Aunt Sharon there sitting with a stack of bills in front of her.

“Everly, I thought you were in bed.” Her voice is tired, and I look up at the clock on the stove to find its after ten o’clock.

“I thought you were in bed. I just came down for a drink of water. Everything okay?“ I ask.

She stares at the papers for a moment and then lets out a heavy sigh. “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to tell you, but I had to take out a second mortgage on the house when I got sick. I just couldn’t keep up with all the hospital bills, and I needed your help.”

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