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Exhaustion takes over my body, and I fall face first onto my bed. Classes, a private training session, and practice is normal, but who knew cleaning bathrooms and mopping floors can be so tiring. I’m using muscles I didn’t know I had. My shoulders hurt and damn, my knees feel like they’re permanently indented with creases of the tile.
A knock on my door, then footsteps into my bedroom. I must not have closed the door to my apartment. “Greathouse, Chef Ellie made your favorite.”
“I’m not getting off this bed for grilled chicken.”
“No, man. It’s shrimp and grits… Southern style… just for you.”
Pushing my hands against my mattress, I lift my body, shooting him a sideways glance. “It’s not my birthday.”
“Coach told Chef Ellie to make your favorite. Let’s go.”
Why am I getting rewarded when I break the rules?
“Quit fucking with me. We’ll get down to the dining room, and there will be chicken and quinoa.”
“Whatever. But I’ve seen the grits; they look cheesy.”
Nick knows my Achilles heel is cheese. Put cheese on anything, and I’m eating it. I hop up and push my feet into my slides. When we get to the dining room, the whole team claps, “Captain. Captain.”
Coach isn’t usually here for dinner, but he walks in behind me and gives me a fist bump.
“Before you fill up your plates, I want to say a little something about our captain.”
I always hate these moments where the spotlight is on me, and I’ll be expected to talk.
“Dane messed up. One, he left without telling anyone where he was. I understand a few of you urged him to do something big for his girlfriend, but they didn’t expect you to miss practice and team bonding. However, being married for twenty years, I appreciate Dane wanting to support his girlfriend in making the Olympic Trials. Frankly, it’s nice to see a four-year player growing outside of basketball.”
He looks at me and grabs my shoulder. “Dane, you’ve been here four years, and I’ve been told by your teammates that you’ve never been committed to anything but basketball. I hope you figure out how to juggle both. You’ve taken your punishment without protest, which tells me you understand what you did was wrong. You’ve ran and ran. You’ve cleaned toilets, mopped floors. Do you know why I had you do that?”
“Because I needed to be taught a lesson?”
“Basketball doesn’t last forever no matter how great any of you are. It teaches you respect of other jobs and how hard they work. Right?”
“Yes, Coach. It was a lot harder than I expected.”
“From now on, if any of you need a day off, come talk to me. I’m not saying it will be granted, but I came here to coach basketball but also to coach you young men in life. Now let’s thank Chef Ellie for this beautiful dinner.”
Chef Ellie blushes as I grab her into a hug. “Thank you.” The other guys stand and get in line to thank her. Senior year is turning out to be the best of my life. It started with a new coach and Lettie dating Nick, and now I’m learning my coach will become more than a coach in my lifetime, and Lettie’s my girlfriend.
Stuffed to the gills and worn out, I tread back upstairs to my room and get some reading done for my history class. I have a test next week and tomorrow will be a bust, going to practice and shooting the commercial I rescheduled, then talking to Lettie.
After about fifty pages, my phone rings.
“Hey.”
“I love it. Switch to video,” she demands in an excited tone.
Tapping the phone, it turns around, and my mouth falls open. Lettie’s wearing my practice jersey that I wore on Monday night. It’s white with the Stallions logo in the center. She turns slow and peeks over her shoulder, with her creased blonde hair waving over her back where she had her hair in a bun. The ends of her hair touches right above my name. The hem of the jersey hits her at mid-thigh, showing off her spectacular legs.
“What’s wrong?” she asks with a hint of insecurity in her tone.
“Nothing. It’s perfect,” I reply, still speechless.
She rewards me with a shy smile. “It smells like you.”
“I wore it at practice and shipped it the next day.”
“I love it. I’m wearing it to bed tonight.” She twists her shoulders like a smitten schoolgirl.
