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Spencer:You got any plans tomorrow?
Since we won today, we have tomorrow and Tuesday off from having to go in for tedious meetings. All we have is a bit of homework to review some tape of next week’s opponent and, of course, workouts.
Me:Just a workout in the morning. Why?
“I asked you a question,” my dad says.
“It was a shitty throw and I didn’t get a grip on it. Lay off, man. We won.”
Spencer:I need to take a trip to Temecula. Want to go?
He’s in San Diego, and I would guess Temecula is an hour or so from his place. But I can’t help but wonder…why?
Me:Temecula? What the fuck is in Temecula?
Spencer:Just have something I need to do and don’t want to do alone.
Spencer isn’t the kind of guy who ever asks for help from anyone. I have no idea what’s up, and I glance up at my dad, who’s glaring at me over my shitty fumble.
I really don’t want to sit here with dear old Dad when he’s in this sort of state, and besides, family comes first.
Or my brothers do, anyway.
Me:Name the time.
Spencer:My place at eleven?
“Who are you talking to?” he asks.
“Noneya,” I say, tossing one of his old lines right back at him. It’s true, though.Noneyais short fornone of your business, andif I tell him Spencer is asking me to fly to California to take a field trip to Temecula, he’ll ask a million questions and I’ll find myself booking a ticket for two.
Spencer called on me for help. He didn’t call Dad.
He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, yeah.”
I run a quick search for flights and find one that gets in at ten. Close enough. I book myself a ticket.
Me:I’ll be there.
Maybe it’ll even give me a chance to talk about my situation with someone who knows me but doesn’t live in the same town as me.
Maybe he’ll have some advice about how to move the fuck on since I’m still dwelling on her three months later.
Chapter 16: Asher Nash
Not For Long
It turns out my trip to see Spencer didn’t solve any of my problems, but somehow it seemed to solve a bunch of his.
I’m still floundering around, lost in a daze, confused over what I really want out of this life.
It’s Wednesday when I walk into Coach Dixon’s office and slide into the chair across from him.
“Asher Nash,” he says by way of greeting as he glances up at me.
“Coach Dixon,” I say formally with a nod. I’m not sure what this meeting is about, but he’s meeting with everyone on offense after the first two games. I’m sure I’ll catch heat for the same fumble my dad already called me on, but I’d rather hear it from a coach than from my own father, I guess.
He taps a button on his computer, and we both see a play from our last game against the Giants pulled up on the television screen on the wall beside us.
