The Game Changer The Final Score - By L.M. Trio Page 0,14
respond, glancing in his direction. He stares straight ahead. I take that as a hint that he doesn’t want me to make more out of it but, I ask anyway, in case there’s more that he wants to know.
“Is that it?” I ask.
“Is that what?” He replies playing dumb.
“Is there anything else you want to know?”
“No, I’m good. How long are you here for?” He asks, quickly changing the subject.
“I’m flyin’ back tomorrow night, I got a six forty-five flight. I’m on a two day break, but I’ll come back as soon as I can.” I answer, letting him drop the subject. I’m hoping he’ll talk when he’s ready.
“You don’t have to keep runnin’ back and forth, it’s too much. You need to focus on what you’re doin’. Man, you must have dropped a boat load of money on me the last couple of years, flyin’ back and forth.”
“You’re right, I did and I expect you to repay me. So, I need to keep checkin’ on my investment, making sure he’s workin’ hard to pay me back.” We both laugh. “Seriously though, how about tomorrow when you’re done working, we throw some balls around?” I ask.
“Nah, man. I don’t think so. I probably don’t even remember how to throw a ball.”
“I’m sure it’ll come back to you,” I reply sarcastically, rolling my eyes at his negativity.
‘No, not yet. I’m not sure if I still want to.”
“Like I said earlier, you just need to adjust.”
“We’ll see,” he answers flatly, hinting that the subject is closed as he exits the car.
***
(Luke)
I check in and retreat to my dreary room on the second floor. It’s disheartening to have to return to this crummy place after spending time in the comforts of my own home and breathing in the fresh air all day. The metal springs from the old mattress claw at my back as I lie staring up at the ceiling, trying to remind myself that this is almost over.
“Well, it’s a lot less crappy than where I spent the last twenty months, but it’s still crappy none the less,” I mumble to myself as I close my eyes.
In the days following, I look forward to waking up each morning and getting picked up for work. Being outside, getting the fresh air, brings me a bit of relief. My family and lawyer are working at getting me on a house-arrest program so that I don’t have to return to the halfway house each evening.
During the hour or two that I do get to spend at home each day, I make sure to spend a good bit of time at the docks. I try gathering my thoughts about what it is that I want and how in the Hell I’ll go about getting there. There’s not a question about who I want, but not like this, it wouldn’t be right. Being away took its toll on me. I’m fucked up and I know it. Mostly I feel unstable, but I’m trying my best to hide it from my family. I don’t want to cause them more problems than I already have. I stare at the blue-green water like I used to, hoping to find answers.
A million thoughts race through my mind. One day I feel as if I’m ready to get back to playing ball and the next, I’m thinking, screw it, why bother. I could care less if I ever play again. On one of those bad days, I run into David on my way back from the docks.
Later that evening, back at my temporary home in AC, I breathe in the stale air of smoke and focus on the crack in the yellow stained ceiling while replaying the conversation with David in my mind. He seemed as if he was happy to see me at first, at least he pretended to be, but then I probably blew it the second I opened my mouth when he asked if I was ready to go back to playing ball. Instead of just playing it off like I was fine, I proceeded to tell him how screwed up I am, and that I didn’t think I’d ever get back to playing. I’ve always had this problem with spilling too much to David. No wonder he never mentions JJ’s name to me, come to think of it, no one does.
I know they had the fundraiser not that long ago. I overheard my mom talking to Deanna about it on the phone. And I’d bet my life,