Page 8 of Always There Bayou
“You’re very optimistic,” I laugh, my mood slowly lifting. “There’s no telling what can happen. It’s no SEC school, so my chances of making it to the pros are even slimmer.”
“See, that’s just the anxiety talking!” she gasps, turning to face me. “Cory, you are one of the best basketball players I’ve ever seen. If you don’t make it to the pros, it would be a great loss for the league, but I’m not here for all the negativity.”
I watch in confusion as she climbs off the bed and walks over to her desk. She pulls out a piece of paper, two markers, and a box I haven’t seen since 9th grade. I chuckle as she sits back down with the box in her hand. I always went along with it because she seemed to believe that it helped. I wasn’t as optimistic as she tended to be, but I supported all her ideas wholeheartedly.
I wouldn’t be her best friend if I didn’t, you know?
“Okay, you already know what we have to do,” she says, ripping the paper in half and handing me one piece. She passed me a marker and took one for herself. “Write it down, fold it up, and stuff it in the box. Then we’ll bury it.”
“Bury it?” I questioned as I uncapped the marker. She nods. “Why? We’ve never done that before.”
“So we can get rid of years’ worth of negativity,” she states as she begins to write. “Once it’s gone, it’s gone. Nothing but good things will come from that point on.”
I wanted to tell her that it was all nonsense, but of course, I didn’t. Instead, I humored her, writing down all my fears and anxieties. Once we were done, we folded them, stuffed them into the small hole at the top of the box, and made our way to the backyard to bury them as deep as we could in the farthest corner.
By the time we made it back up to her room, I felt a bit lighter. When we lay down again in each other’s arms, I felt myself relax, sleep slowly taking over me. The events of earlier slowly melted away from my memory.
“In case no one told you today, I’m proud of you,” Denny says, barely above a whisper. I could tell that she was fighting sleep. “You’re amazing, and you’re going to do great things, Cory Tate. You’re the best best friend I could ever ask for, and I love you.”
“I love you too, Denny,” I say, meaning every word. She didn’t reply, but I could hear light snoring. I smile to myself as I close my eyes.
Even if I didn’t have anyone else, I’d always have Denny to believe in me.
My best friend for now and forever.
The Present.
Note: Denny now uses they/them pronouns.
1
Conversations Bayou.
CoryTate-November21st, 2024
It’s been a month since I officially apologized to Cheyenne for giving her shit behind Harley, and here I was back in her office again to go over plans for my off-season care. My back had been giving me problems off and on for years, but it was always pretty mild. However, thanks to a hard fall during the last game of the season, it’s been giving me problems more frequently. Yes, I’d gone to my doctor about it, but she recommended that I get back into physical therapy as well. Cheyenne has been a great help with that.
Admittedly, it was still awkward between us since the whole blow-up where I accused her of being a no-good gold digger. I was embarrassed as hell for my actions, and I knew she was only being cordial with me because of her job. One thing I admired aboutCheyenne was her consistently professional demeanor. She didn’t let my attitude stop her from giving me the same care she gave the other players. I appreciated it, but it also made me feel even worse about how I’d treated her.
I look up at Cheyenne as she types away at her computer. She looked lost in thought, ignoring me completely, but I couldn’t blame her. I take in her appearance and get what Harley saw in her. I mean, she was a good person, always kind to everyone, but it was hard to ignore the fact that she was also drop-dead gorgeous. Even I could admit that.
“Can you stop staring at me?” she says, never taking her eyes from her computer. That only made me want to stare at her more. She notices this and sighs deeply before looking up at me. “Cory, seriously, what? Why are you staring at me?”
“I don’t know, maybe because you’re pretty?” I say, shrugging. I sit up in my chair before glancing at the clock hanging on the wall behind her. “What time do you get off?”
“Uh, you’re not about to do some dumb shit like try to ask me out, are you?” she asks, genuinely confused. I look at her like she has lost her mind.
“What? No! What kind of person do you think I am?” I ask, partially offended. “You’re literally dating my best friend. I would never do no shit like that.”
“I can never tell with you,” she retorts. I roll my eyes. “Just so we’reveryclear, I would’ve turned your ass down even if I wasn’t dating Harley.”
“First of all, you’re not my type,” I state, lying like shit, but that’s not important. Now it’s her turn to roll her eyes. “Secondly, I don’t think you and I would mesh well. Hell, I don’t think we could even be friends-”
“You’re right about that,” she cuts me off, crossing her hands over her chest.
“Although I hope one day we can be,” I admit before thinking about it.
She stares at me with furrowed eyebrows, her arms uncrossing and falling to her sides. “What?”
