Page 125 of Loving the Legend
His terrified voice sends a chill down my back.
Maybe I’m being selfish by refusing to try therapy. Maybe if I go a few times, everyone will get off my back.
“I’m sorry I scared you. I don’t want you to be worried about me. I’m unsure if it’s for me, but I’ll try it at least. Okay?”
He nods. “I'll help you research and set up a few consultations. It’ll be hard at first, but it works if you take it seriously.”
I voice something that’s been nagging me. “Are you sure you want to live with me when you move here? I can’t promise that I’ll always be me. Sometimes, I need to disappear for a while.”
He resumes rubbing my back. “You don’t have to worry about that. I’ll love you through whatever you’re battling. Always show me the real you, and I’ll do the same.”
“Yeah, but the real you isn’t that different from what everyone sees.” He shows up in interviews and games with an authenticity that draws in fans around the world. Me, on the other hand, there’s a lot people don’t see.
“Struggling with your mental health isn’t a dirty secret. You know that, right?”
I shrug.
“Nah. Hold up. You’re not disingenuous because you keep certain things private. The world doesn’t get to know everything about us because our jobs involve us being thrust in front of a camera every night. That’s bullshit.”
“I know that, but are you sure this is what you want?”
“Yeah, I am. I love you, and I want this…badly. I want to know you’re safe in our home when I’m on the road. You don’t have to be alone anymore. Tommy, Kieran, and Mom are in town every few weeks, er, well, they used to be in Miami.”
I hear an anxious note in his voice.
“What’s the matter?”
“Would that annoy you, having my family visit every few weeks?”
“Are you serious? They’re the best, and I’ve wanted family around forever.”
I’m stoked by the thought of a house full of people and waking up beside Sid. I’ll never take for granted how generous he is with his family. I used to hate that I seemed so lonely to him, but the truth is, I was lonely. Sometimes, being seen isn’t the worst thing.
Now, all I need is for my mind to comply and get back on track. I’m sure things will feel normal once I get a ball in my hands again. I think about what I just agreed to. I sense he believes therapy is a magic bullet that will solve a lot of my issues. It’s a lot of pressure. I wonder what it’ll mean for us if I go and decide it’s not for me.
CHAPTER TWENTY
THREE MONTHS LATER
“Yo, wasn’t it just last season when it took three of us to guard you? ¿Qué pasó?”
Clenching my jaw, I ignore Phoenix's point guard and hit a reverse dribble, scanning the floor for an open look. Coach signals for me to take the shot. I signal for Idris to get free. Jammed up by their center, he signals for me to shoot.
Don’t do it.
Seven seconds left on the shot clock.
The point guard squats low, blocking any possible drive to the rim. “Scared ain’t a good look, Pretty Boy!”
“Fuck off!” I fire back.
I scan the floor again. Not only are my teammates being defended, they’re all signaling for me to man up and take the fucking shot.
Damn it.I hit a crossover, step back, and fire the ball. The moment it leaves my hand, I know the shot’s shit. It misses the rim, basket, and backboard entirely. Not only is it shit, it’s a damn air ball.
Our eighteen-point deficit remains intact.
Our coach calls a timeout.
