Page 133 of Beneath the Stands (Sugarlake 2)

They said a lot of things in the session. A dump of information, assisted by pamphlets and packets, showing us all the ways to support, and all the ways we shouldn’t. It’s a miracle I retained any of it. But one line stuck with me, and now, while Lee and I sit outside at a circular table waiting on Pops and Mark, I find myself repeating it over and over in my head.

You can’t cure it. You didn’t cause it. You can’t control it.

I wonder if Lee’s thinking the same thing. My gaze floats to her and I search for the right thing to say. She’s right next to me but she feels so far away, and at this moment, I wish more than anything I could dive across the chasm and grab on to her—somehow heal the divide between us so we could truly support each other in the fragile moments.

“So… that was intense,” I say.

Lee looks up at me from where she’s reading one of the pamphlets they passed out. “Yeah,” she sighs. “It makes a lotta sense though. I’ve been enablin’ Daddy for years.”

“And not taking care of yourself?” I phrase it as a question, not wanting to rile up her already frayed emotions, but by the way her eyes narrow I think I struck the nerve anyway.

“How do you know that, Eli? You ain’t even been here to know whether I was takin’ care of myself or not. Too busy livin’ your fancy life with your fancy people and their fancy dreams to give a damn.”

My insides burn as her accusations sear into my skin. “Is that what you think? Really? That I was off living my best life?”

She shrugs, her arms crossing over her chest.

The restraint holding my anger snaps, my pent-up emotion barreling out of me, the taste bitter on my tongue. “Let me tell you somethin’, Lee. Ma died and I lost the only family member who gave a damn about me beyond basketball. And then… I lost basketball too.” I breathe deeply through my nose to keep the tears at bay, and ignore how my accent drips on the end of my words. “And I know I should have been around more. Should have made more of an effort. But you didn’t even stop for one second and check in on me. You just sat here, wallowin’ in your doom and gloom, not givin’ a damn. Makin’ assumptions about what you think of my life without takin’ the time to see for yourself.”

“I—”

“Well, guess what. You don’t know. You have no clue what it was like for me.”

“You never told me,” she hisses.

“You never asked!” My arms shoot up, palms raised to the sky.

This isn’t where I wanted to have this conversation. Not when we’re here for Pops—when it’s already an emotional day. But sometimes you don’t control when things happen, and finally voicing it makes me feel better. Lighter.

Resentment sticks to your insides. Scraping it off may hurt, but at least it cleans the residue.

I tap the table with my fingers. “I wasn’t here for you. I didn’t listen

when you needed me to, and I’m sorry for that. I’m sorry for the part I played in all the ways we’ve failed each other. But for once in your goddamn life will you just take a look in the mirror and accept some of the blame? Christ.” I huff out a breath, tugging on the ends of my hair.

Lee’s staring at me, mouth flopping like a fish. “Eli, I—”

“You wanna know what my fancy life was like, Alina?” I cut her off again. “It was lonely. It was full of guilt that rotted me from the inside out because I didn’t make time to come home. To hold on to Ma while I still had the chance.” My voice breaks and I run my hand over my mouth, watching as Lee’s eyes glaze over. “My fancy life was filled with people who loved to stand in my spotlight and run away from my darkness. My fancy life was tortured by the nightmare of livin’ out your dream and then havin’ it stolen away in front of millions of people.” My fist pounds against my chest. “Thousands of moments were spent starin’ at my fancy phone when it didn’t ring from the only two people in my life who should have cared.”

Lee’s hand jumps to cover her mouth. “Eli, I didn’t—”

“No,” I snap. “You didn’t.” I take a deep breath, trying to regain some composure. “Do you know what it feels like to lose your purpose, Lee?”

“No,” she whispers, her head shaking.

I suck on my teeth, choosing my words carefully. “It feels like… like you’re floatin’ in the middle of the ocean, surrounded by land. You can see your end game, but you can’t get there.” I break our stare, looking at the table, remembering how lost I felt before I went to Florida and coached those kids. Before I found Becca. “Eventually, your limbs get so damn tired you surrender to the pull of gravity.” I frown. “You let the salty water fill your lungs and you accept your new reality. Dyin’ a slow death, alone in the middle of the sea… all because you can’t do the one thing that’s expected.” My voice breaks. “You can’t fuckin’ swim.”

“I didn’t think…” Lee trails off.

“When I lost ball, I lost my reason. My entire life was spent strivin’ for greatness, and at the end of the day, none of it mattered. Every second was wasted.”

Lee looks to the side, a tear streaking down her face and dripping off her chin. My heart twists at her sadness.

“I didn’t tell you that to make you sad. Or to make you feel guilty. I just need you to understand. I stayed away because I couldn’t come home. Couldn’t face bein’ the town disappointment. But none of that shit matters anymore. You can’t go back and change the past—”

“But you can start where you are and change the endin’,” Lee finishes, smiling through her tears. “That’s my favorite quote.”

My chest warms. “Mine too.” I reach out, grabbing her fingers across the table. “I forgive you. Do you forgive me?”

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