Bouncing (18 page)

The plastic was cold, and she stared at it for a moment, watching a bubble in the liquid bob as she turned the instrument in her hand. It was time for her dose, and for the first time in many years, she was debating whether to take it.

When she’d first been diagnosed, her doctor gave her a sample pack of the drug, and Alex had been amazed that, in less than a week, a single shot had taken away the pain she’d had in her lower back for nearly a decade. Two weeks later, when she injected herself for the second time, she felt normal. And then she stopped, just to see what would happen, and the pain came back with a vengeance. That was five years earlier, and since then, other than the few occasions when she’d been sick, she hadn’t missed a dose.

Did she really still need it? Yeah, she had then, when she was playing competitive basketball every day. Perhaps now that she wasn’t so hard on her body, her pain might be improved. And maybe her disease was in remission now. She’d heard of that happening. Maybe she could do without it. She could sure do without the worry of contracting fatal infections and cancer, fears that constantly floated beneath the current of her thoughts and periodically surfaced and stabbed her with reminders of the medication’s side effects.

Closing her eyes, Alex sighed, a deep breath of frustration that left her dizzy. She just wanted to be normal. Why did she have to have this fucking disease, and to worry about taking her medication, and to fear the pain she’d have if she didn’t, and fear dying if she did? What had she done to deserve this? Why couldn’t she just be like everyone else and have a normal life and a girlfriend who loved her and not have to be a fucking science experiment?

Opening her eyes, Alex stared at the syringe again and bit the inside of her bottom lip in frustration. Then she put it back in the bottom drawer and closed the door, and walked through her darkened apartment to the bed where she’d try to fall asleep while thinking of the woman who’d made her so anxious to live.

Tip-off

The sound of dozens of basketballs bouncing echoed throughout the gym as Alex watched Brit make her grand entrance, her first official appearance as assistant girls’ basketball coach. Alex knew Brit was as nervous as she was—they’d been talking almost every day—but she looked confident and beautiful as she approached, her hair in a ponytail and her trim body wrapped in a black sweat suit with teal-blue accents. Alex smiled as she noted the sneakers in the same color and thought it so typical of Brit—both delightfully feminine yet athletic, too.

Discussing their practice schedule and goals over the course of several meetings had led to the development of the agenda that Alex posted on the wall near the girls’ locker room. She watched as Brit checked it and smiled. Again, typical Brit—methodical and perfectionistic, double-checking Alex’s work. If someone else had been checking up on her, it might have bothered her. Brit was so nonchalant about being super organized it didn’t bother Alex a bit.

Both of them thought it a great idea to keep the players informed about what they’d be doing at practice and to give them ideas about what they could work on during their free time. Alex had listed ball-handling skills as one of her top priorities for all players, even the ones who didn’t routinely have to bounce the ball. Brit wanted to focus on foul shooting. Their practice plan included time to work on both skills, with rewards offered to the players on both JV and varsity who had the best performance of the day as well as the one who showed the most improvement.

Watching Brit approach, Alex tried hard to focus on the words spoken by the girl who was likely to be the team captain. Sidney Stone was a senior guard who’d been the leading scorer the year before and was admired by her teammates for her attitude and work ethic. She was a good student and stayed out of trouble. Sid wanted to talk about the practice agenda—she had her own thoughts on the matter—but all that filled Alex’s brain was the image of Brit as she approached.

Snap out of it!
she told herself and forced herself to concentrate on the conversation. Sid described a ball-handling game she’d learned at a summer camp and Alex agreed to implement it. With a bounce in her stride, Sid walked back to the court and joined her teammates in the warm-ups. Alex’s spirit soared as she watched her players, the young ones scared and eager and the older ones confident and casual. Remembering the first day of her high-school basketball tryouts, she knew the adrenaline rushes these girls were experiencing—and she felt a bit envious that she was now the coach and no longer the player.

“Excited?” she asked as Brit approached.

“Yes! I didn’t realize how much I missed being in a gym until just now.”

“Kind of wishing you were out there instead of over here?” Alex almost sighed the words.

“Was that a question or a statement?” Brit asked with a smile.

“Busted. I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of playing.”

“Well, I think our games at the park have been fun.” The weather had been clear, and though sometimes cool, it wasn’t enough to keep them from the court at South Abington Park. At least twice a week they went head-to-head. It was a great workout and great competition.

“Yeah. When the snow comes I guess we’ll have to bring our game in here.”

“It’s a date,” Brit said before she could stop herself, but she quickly recovered. “How are you? Nervous?” Alex had confessed she was jittery, and Brit knew about the pressure from the school board, but she always seemed so together. She looked great—tall, blond, beautiful, well dressed, and always with her head held high and a purpose in her stride. Confidence seemed to ooze from her, yet in their private times, Alex gave Brit clues that she was human, too.

Alex made a sort of comical frown. “Petrified.”

“Well, it doesn’t mean much—but I got your back.”

Alex turned to her and smiled. “Actually, Brit, it means a great deal.”

Brit answered her smile. “Did they look at the agenda?” she asked. Brit loved to have a plan. She needed it. If she didn’t know what was happening it set her off balance, and knowing how they’d be spending their two hours of practice, and their week, and their month helped to ground her. If Alex thought it odd that Brit wanted to work out their practice schedule, she didn’t mention it. She did ask that they remain flexible and make adjustments as needed, and Brit agreed.

“Yeah, they’re all talking about the skill games, and Sidney actually just suggested another one. I think they’ll be into it. It’ll psych them up.”

“That’s great. That’s the point, right?”

“Yep. I have something for you.”

Alex reached into her pocket and pulled something out. It was a shiny new whistle, fastened onto a beaded, blingy lanyard. Brit laughed as she saw it but tried to hide her delight as she studied it. It was absolutely perfect for her, and she loved it. As she turned it over, she noticed an inscription in small, script letters.
Coach Britain Dodge.

“Oh, Alex, this is perfect. And so sweet of you.” She looked into Alex’s sparkling eyes. “I love it.”

“You’re welcome. Now see if it works. We need to get this practice started.”

“Wait a sec. I have something for you, too.” Brit reached into her pocket and pulled out a small cardboard box of the size typically used for presenting earrings. She bit her bottom lip, trying to hold back her smile as she handed it to Alex.

Without delay Alex lifted the lid and stared at a whistle nearly identical to the one she’d given Brit. Hers had a green-and-white lanyard, matching the school colors. Alex held it up. Like Brit’s, it was inscribed, but hers had just one word.
Nike.

Alex laughed as she placed her new gift around her neck. “Do you want to get this practice started, Coach?”

Brit blew her new whistle, and within seconds the gym grew quiet as the players stopped bouncing and chatting and made their way toward their coaches.

Two hours later, as members of the boys’ team began filtering into the gym, Alex blew her whistle and congratulated them all on a great first practice. As the girls began their exodus, Alex and Brit turned to each other with triumphant looks. Not only were the veterans in great shape and in possession of enviable talent, a freshman guard named Melissa Black had dazzled them. She hadn’t been a great junior-high-school player, but she’d had a growth spurt and spent some time working on her game, and it showed. She was the total package. And Kelsey was, without a doubt, destined to be a star.

One of the problems with the high-school gym was a lack of office space for the coaches. Alex’s was a 4x4 converted closet and not conducive to a long conversation. With the boys now bouncing balls all over the court, the building was too noisy for Brit and Alex to talk. “I can’t hear myself think,” Alex complained.

“Do you want to grab some dinner?” Brit suggested. “A restaurant has to be quieter than this place.”

“I’m not sure about that. How about a pizza at my place?”

Brit hesitated for just a moment. Did she really want to be alone with Alex at her place? They’d been spending much of their free time together since their first game of one-on-one, but Brit had never been to Alex’s. Would it send the wrong message? What was the right message? When it came to Alex and her feelings about her, Brit just didn’t know what to think. But they were friends, right? Coworkers who needed to cowork. “Okay,” she answered, finally.

They met the men’s assistant coach as they headed back to the locker room. “How’d it go, Coach?” His question was directed at Alex.

Maintaining a neutral expression and tone, Alex responded. “Even better than expected.”

“Well, hopefully you do a better job than your predecessor.”

Brit winced at the venom in his voice but was impressed by Alex’s composure as she responded. “Yes, well, I hope so, too. Have a good practice,” she said, walking away, Brit on her heels.

“What the hell?” Brit asked.

Alex shrugged. “He was the other finalist for my job. He’s been the men’s assistant for ten years, and with such a young head coach ahead of him, he’s not likely to ever see a promotion. I guess he’s holding a grudge.”

“I’ll say,” she said, and patted Alex’s back in support. “But I don’t have any concerns about the board’s choice. You’re going to be great.” Brit had watched in awe for two hours as Alex ran their first practice, commanding the attention of every player and eliciting great performances from all of them.

Alex nodded. “Thanks,” she said, but there was no smile on her beautiful face. Brit found herself wanting to change that. “Want to follow me?”

Brit followed Alex through residential neighborhoods, where the houses became bigger and bigger the farther they got from the center of town. They passed Mountain Meadows Country Club and then turned onto one narrow road, then another, and finally into a winding, tree-lined drive that opened into a clearing. In front of her stood a Tudor-style home that could only be described as a mansion. It had the typical half-timbering, black-and-white look, with mullioned windows and pitched roofs with dormers, and seemed to have been built as a series of additions off a large main building. As Brit was studying the expansive house and landscaping, one of the four garage bays opened and Alex pulled inside.

Brit pulled up behind her and parked in the driveway, feeling a bit awed by the house before her. When Alex stepped out of the garage, Brit questioned her immediately. She knew Alex didn’t live with her parents—how could she afford a house like this on a teacher’s salary?

“You live here?” she asked, incredulous.

Alex laughed at the reaction. “Actually, no. I live in the apartment above the garage.”

“What a cool place. Who owns the house?” Brit asked as they walked into the garage and up a flight of stairs at the rear. She couldn’t help noticing that the other car parked in the garage appeared to be a small convertible. The details were indistinguishable through the canvas tarp covering it.

“Pauline Fielding. Do you remember the Fielding grocery stores?”

Brit nodded. It was a successful local chain that had recently been sold, but everyone who’d lived in Northeastern Pennsylvania in the past fifty years had shopped at Fielding’s at one time or another.

“Her husband was the founder. She’s about ninety now, and she refuses to give up the house. She winters in Florida and doesn’t want to leave the house completely empty. So I live here for free, in exchange for checking for rodents and leaks in the roofs and keeping burglars at bay. The only drawback is that I can’t have parties in the main house…and my boyfriend can never spend the night.”

“What a sacrifice!” Brit replied, laughing.

They’d entered into a small foyer, and Alex shrugged off her coat and hung it in the closet. She reached for Brit’s when it was offered and hung hers as well. The foyer opened into a living area that took up the entire width of the garage, and beyond Brit could see a small kitchen. A door in a clear space toward the front of the room presumably opened to Alex’s bedroom.

“I called for the pizza. It should be here in a few minutes. Can I get you a drink? Soda? Water? Or are you ready to drink your first beer?”

“Not quite there yet. Just water, please,” she replied, looking around. “This place is magnificent.” The Tudor theme she’d seen on the house’s exterior extended to the interior, with a steeply pitched ceiling supported by huge wooden beams. There was hardwood throughout. On one wall a giant television was hung, another housed a bookcase, and at the front and rear were those magnificent windows. A comfy-looking leather couch sitting on a braided rug took up the middle of the room, and a sofa table behind it supported a lamp, which Alex promptly switched on. It cast the room in a warm, inviting glow.

“Have a seat,” she directed as she headed for the kitchen. She was back a minute later with two waters. Leaning back into one corner of the sofa, she twisted the cap from hers and looked to Brit. “Well, what do you think?”

“Of the team or the house?”

“The team, silly. You’ve already told me how you feel about the house.”

“Wow! That’s how I feel. Melissa’s fantastic. Kelsey is, too, but I already knew that. All of our guards are fabulous. I know we can’t play four guards, but I can’t imagine which one we’ll bench.”