“A gut.” Kenya’s hearty laugh makes me laugh, too. “You never had a gut a day in your life.”
“And I don’t plan to.”
“Man, with the way you live, you could play till you’re fifty.”
“God, please, no.”
“You’re not ready to throw in the towel yet, are you?” Surprise colors her voice because with my conditioning, most expect me to play for another four years or so. I’m not so sure.
“It’s not my body that’s tired. Maybe it’s my mind. I don’t know, Ken. I been at this for a long time. I want to do some other things, including spend more time with Simone.”
“How is my niece? Still spoiled rotten?”
“She’s not spoiled.”
Kenya lets her silence speak for her.
“Okay,” I concede with a chuckle. “She may be a little spoiled, but she’s a good kid.”
“Still no interest in ball?” There’s despair in Kenya’s tone. Even in college I still thought I would be a lawyer one day, but my sister has always known she would be a baller. She has high hopes for Simone, too.
“She’s sticking with ballet.”
“Hey, ballerinas are athletes, too,” Kenya says. “I’ll take it.”
I sink lower into the icy water, letting it reach all the places that will ache from my strenuous workout if I don’t. “Her new school has a great program, and she seems committed.”
“And how is her mother?” Kenya asks with careful coolness.
“She’s . . .” I sigh, thinking of the scene with the camera crew at our family counseling session. “She’s Bridget.”
“And that tells me all I need to know.”
“Yeah, pretty much. I’m fighting to keep Simone clear of this reality show. I don’t want her enamored with fame, or what she thinks it is. It’s not just getting a bunch of Instagram followers. It’s having the worst day of your life broadcast for the whole world to see.”
“I think she gets that,” Kenya says reassuringly. “She saw what you guys went through.”
“That’s the problem, Ken. She saw it all. She knows how dark this can get. That is her life at this age. I hate that our foolishness has even touched her.”