Hanging up, I focus on getting home. Inside I’m nervous – nervous to see my coach and having to face him when I have no drive or ambition to return to school. Now, my mom pulls this shit. It’s the last thing I need. I really couldn’t care less about graduating and I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but I don’t think I want to play in the NBA anymore either. Since I’ve been out of school, I’m sure my chances of getting drafted in the first round are gone.
Also, I would have to stop self-medicating and right now I just can’t. They are my lifeline and give me the only release from this excruciating pain, and quite frankly, the only things that get me out of bed every day. Pulling into the driveway, I check the time and notice that I have a little under an hour before my coach arrives. Upon entering the house, my mom is screaming; I can hear her loud and clear.
“Please, Renee, don’t do this. Think about Bain.”
“Fuck you, Jack,” she slurs, and I know right away what’s going on. Her back is to me and she’s walking away from him with a bottle of vodka clutched tightly in her grip. Setting our Starbucks down, I sprint over to her and rip the bottle away. She turns to me with venom in her eyes and a snarl across her face.
“How dare you?”
“Don’t, Mom,” I snap as I pour the foul liquid down the sink. The moment the first splash hits the drain, she lunges herself at me and my dad grabs her.
“Calm down,” he pleads, but she thrashes in his arms.
Once I have the bottle empty, I step towards them and tightly hold her face, forcing her to make eye contact with me. “You can either pull your shit together, for me, or we can do this without you!” She stares back at me stunned, completely shocked by my words. “Believe it or not, Mom, Dad and I can handle things tonight with or without you. I just thought we could still present ourselves as a family since losing Kinsey, but apparently not. I guess Dad and I are the only ones with the strength anymore.”
Tears well in her eyes and I can see the despair as she looks at me. For months, she has stumbled around this house, neither of us asking her to do a thing ’til now, and the one time I need her – she can’t. Christ, it makes me angry. “Don’t cry. That shit doesn’t work on me. If you forgot, I lost her too, Mom. It hurts just as much for me every day.” Letting go of her, my father drops his arms at the same time. She stares at me with that blank, empty expression, the one she’s worn since the day we first got the call. I walk off, leaving them both standing there and head to Kinsey’s room. I know my mom won’t come in there and bother me.
As I open the door, the scent hits me hard like it always does, immediately taking me back to when she was alive. I flop down on her teal comforter, letting the exhaustion soak me into the mattress. I need a pill. Fuck, I need them. But I know I can’t, so instead I focus on keeping my emotions in check. I always used to come in here while she was getting ready. I can hear her words now…
“Why do you have to flop on my bed like that?”
I shrug my shoulders, nuzzling the pillow. “’Cause I’m used to sleeping on a cardboard piece of shit box at school, Kins. This is so much better.”
She laughs. “Then go and sleep on your own bed.”
“What? You don’t miss your brother?” I tease.
“You know I do. That’s why I don’t understand why you won’t come home and just go to school around here, like I do.”
I open my eyes and watch her apply her makeup. “I’ve told you before, UConn is one of the best schools when it comes to ball.”
“So you really want to play in the NBA?” she asks lying down next to me. I look at her long, brown hair, and close my eyes imagining how great my life is going to be before I answer. “Absolutely, I fucking do! More than anything in this world.”
She smiles turning to me. “I know it’ll happen and I’ll be your number one fan, cheering you on all along. You can always count on me to be at every game…”
“How are you holding up?” my father asks me, patting my back. His touch brings me back to the present – to reality.
“Fine. How’s Mom?”
“I’m not sure. She locked herself in our room. So what are you planning on telling Coach Daniels?”
“I don’t know, Dad.”
“Well, how do you feel about things?”
“I’m just done faking like I care about basketball. That was who I used to be. I guess I’ll be honest and tell him that I’m done with ball. I have enough credits to graduate, so I’m not worried about that. I just don’t have the ambition anymore. I honestly don’t even think I could make a basket if I tried.”
“Come on, son. You’re the leading rebounder and scorer on your team. You know that your talent is natural and God-given. It’s not something you’ve learned or been taught. It’s just what you were born with. Since you could bounce the ball, you could drain shots.”