“She’s been to all my first games.”
“Your dad was less talkative.”
“That’s Lamonte Mosley, the life of the party.”
“I’m surprised your mom is still with him.”
“That’s the thing. I don’t know if my mom is scared or if she just actually loves him. We’ve talked about her leaving and she’ll listen, but she also makes excuses for him. And it just pisses me off because how do you love someone more than yourself, more than your kids? Like he broke Duane’s arm. Tootie peed the bed until she was twelve.”
Danessa’s expression was solemn. I wasn’t telling her shit she didn’t already know. When I was in college my sister, Tootie, would call me bawling her eyes out because our dad had come home drunk and looking to pick an argument. Duane was in jail, I was away at school and Tootie was left alone to deal with the broken pieces. And my emotions were mixed because while I was free of the drama, my sister was smack dab in the middle of it.
“I love my mom, but I swear for God I hate her just as much.”
“She’s a victim too.”
“Yeah, but she was the adult. Like at seven I knew our family dynamic was fucked up. We could never have friends over. We had to lie about obvious bruises. At ten I was telling teachers who asked about my black eyes that I fell off the top bunk bed, I’m just clumsy and accident prone. I hate him. And I don’t …” My throat was tight and my chest was heavy and I needed to pause so I didn’t lose my shit. “I hate him. And in the same moment I want him to say ‘Good job, son. I’m so proud of you. I’m so proud …’”
“Have you tired talking to him about this?”
My mind went back to the bruise on my mother’s arm. “I try not to think about it. Sometimes Tootie will mention an argument or Mom crying and I just don’t acknowledge it. Distance is a luxury because I can pretend that shit doesn’t exist. I can go to sleep every night and just act like it’s not happening anymore. What do they say? Out of sight, out of mind. But everytime I get a call from an unfamiliar number I think, this is it. This is the call where the cops or a hospital tells me my mom is dead.”
“Aldridge.”
“I can’t make my mom leave him. I can’t want it more than she does.”
“You have to remember your dad was significantly older than your mom when they met. And he did what abusers do. He isolated her, he groomed her. He made her believe that she wouldn’t survive without him. Even now with a rich and famous basketball playing son. I’m not trying to make excuses for her but it’s so complicated and deeply ingrained. They’ve been together for almost thirty years.”
“I don’t presume to know what my mom is thinking or what she went through. I just wish she made different choices. And not for me but for her. Because she deserves to be happy and the thought of her living a lifetime of sadness doesn’t sit well with me.” Danessa had moved from her chair to kneeling in front of me with her hand on my knee. “I wish he hadn’t come to see me play.”
“You know your mother loves you right?”
“I know that my father ruptured my eye socket and at the hospital my mother said I was hit with a baseball bat while playing outside.”
“I don’t have the words to make this all better. I just wish I could take away your pain.”
“You can’t fix something you didn’t break. But you did show me I was capable of having a mature loving relationship. Until I met you, I avoided commitment because I feared I’d be just like my dad. Nurture versus nature, you know. I learned how to love with you and for that I’ll always be grateful.”
Danessa’s bottom lip quivered, and tears streamed down her cheeks. I stood pulling her to her feet. “Please stop crying. Cause if you continue to cry then I’ll start crying and get a headache.”
Danessa’s face brightened slightly as she wiped away the tears. Her shoulder brushed against my arm as we watched the water in the large fountain a few feet away shoot upward, swaying in synchronization with the music. The evening was warm, the kind that made the city feel like it was holding its breath.
It had been years since we’d been together, but time hadn’t dulled the magnetism between us. If anything, it had become sharper, more potent. Every glance, every brush of skin sent electricity crackling through my body. I could feel her now, just inches away, the heat radiating off her. Her familiar and intoxicating floral vanilla fragrance pulled me closer.
Danessa turned to face me, the shadows of the lights scattered across the plaza danced across her delicate features. My heart thudded against my chest, louder than the music and commotion from the bustling crowd. It was impossible to deny the way my body reacted to her presence, the way my pulse quickened when she looked up at me like that, as if we were the only two people in the world. She took a step closer. Her movements were slow, almost hesitant. Her eyes searched my face as if trying to gauge whether she was crossing a line. I held my breath, unable to move, unable to break the invisible thread between us.
Then, so gently it almost hurt, she reached up and cupped my cheek, her thumb brushing the edge of my jaw. The simple touch sent a shockwave through me, and I leaned into it, into her. I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to steady my breathing, but the moment I did, the warmth of her breath against my skin forced them open. Leaning in she paused, lingering just inches away from my face. The anticipation was excruciating, the tension like static in the air between us.
With a slowness that only heightened the longing, Danessa pressed her lips against my cheek. It was soft, but the emotionbehind it was anything but. Her kiss lingered, as if she was savoring the moment, pouring years of regret and desire into that single touch. Danessa’s lips were warm, but the contact still sent a shiver down my spine, making my knees weak.
She pulled back and her eyes met mine, everything around us was moving at normal pace but it seemed like in our little bubble the world stood still. The air between us thickened with the unspoken things we’d left unsaid for far too long. I could feel the heat of her body, the barely restrained desire simmering beneath the surface. Her lips parted, but no words came out.
Instead, she let her fingers slide down my arm, my muscles tensed beneath her touch. Was it really that easy to just pick up right where we left off?
With her initial kiss still burning my skin, I stepped back. “Thanks for coming to my game.” My voice was light as if my DNA had been sprinkled with a dash marshmallow fluff.
“I appreciated the invite. Even though I watched most of the game through my fingers.”
“You just need to trust the process. I can feel a championship in my bones.” My instincts were rarely wrong. The Ramblers were going to win it all this season, I was going to find the home of my dreams, and Danessa was going to remember why she fell in love with me.
