Page 26 of Diamond Ring
Jake listens to him breathe for a full countdown from thirty, wondering if there’s a silence so long that Alex will fill it. By the time he reaches one-Mississippi, Alex still hasn’t said anything.
“It fucking sucks,” Jake continues. “My arm hurts, and they gave me pills that mostly make me nauseous. I don’t know if I’m gonna rehab here or in Oakland yet, but I’m kind of favoring here.”
“For the whole time?”
“Why, you’d be sad without me there?” It’s teasing, in a way Jake shouldn’t be. In a way that they often are with each other but haven’t been since the series.
Alex doesn’t respond to that. Noise fills the background like someone’s wailing on a drum set.
“That Marianne?” Jake asks. “I mean, the drumming.”
“Yeah.”
“How’s everyone doing?”
“You know,” Alex says, and for a second Jake worries he’s going to go back to how he was in the clubhouse the day after their loss. Until Alex adds, “They’re okay.”
“What’d you do for Christmas?”
“Sat around the firepit and complained that it was cold.”
“It’s New England in December. Of course it’s cold.”
“Sofia said the same thing.” But Alex can talk about his family for hours. He starts telling Jake about their Christmas traditions, which are actually solstice traditions, and about how he got Evie a bike with streamers on the handlebars and new drums for Marianne, and how it’s been kind of a party there for the past few days, people drifting in and out, cooking and playing music. “They’re doing renovations. They saved the sledgehammering for when I came home.”
“You’re having a sledgehammer party?”
“Yeah, they’re pretty fun.”
Jake laughs. “What’s your agent think of that?” Because their contracts have stipulations about offseason activities, though they mostly prohibit things like basketball.
“Haven’t mentioned it.”
“Don’t fuck up your shoulder. Both of us can’t be out of commission next year.”
An audible inhale from Alex. “I wish you told me sooner.”
“It’s not like it would’ve made it heal more quickly.”
“I could’ve done something. Come down there for a while.”
Jake imagines Alex sitting next to him. If his parents would wonder what he’s doing here. If Jake’ll say something dumb like, “Mom, Dad, you remember Alex, right? He’sjusta friend,” in a way that says he isn’t.
“I should’ve told Courtland to start someone else,” Alex continues.
“He wouldn’t have listened. Even if he did, I was fine.”
“Maybe you weren’t. Maybe that’s why the game ended how it did.”
“Alex”—they’re not on video, so Alex can’t see that he’s clenching his jaw, but can probably hear it in his voice—“that’s not why it happened.”
“You can’t know that.”
Like it’s not Jake’s body, the one he lives in every day, the one whose little pains and complaints he monitors hyper-vigilantly in case something small blossoms into something much larger. Like a torn elbow ligament. “I can.”
“You could’ve missed something.”
Jake taps the mute icon on his phone screen clumsily so he can yell in frustration without Alex hearing. His posters don’t respond. When he unmutes his phone, Alex doesn’t say anything for long enough that Jake checks to see if the call went dead.
