“Since when?” I intervened.
“Since I said so,” Carter growled.
“Diego, your daddy is doing what we adults call moving the goalposts. One day I’ll teach you what that means. For now, tell me about camp. How was it?”
I continued to pace the room, as Diego recounted his day at camp to me. He, as well as my niece and nephew from my second oldest brother, Aaron, attended the same camp. Though Kyle and Kennedy were nearly two years younger than Diego, the trio were thick as thieves. I grinned at the memory of Carter and Aaron both telling me how Diego stepped in when a bully was targeting Kyle and making fun of him because he was a poor reader. I laughed my ass off when Aaron added in the fact that while Diego and Kyle tag-teamed the third grade bully, Kennedy, my only niece, had run over and kicked the boy as well. I laughed so hard at the image of my sweet niece kicking the boy, my stomach ached. Kennedy was as kind as they came but don’t mess with her brother. She reminded me of her mother in that way.
While Michelle and Patience, Carter and Aaron’s wives, had forbade them from taking the children out for ice cream after the fight, I along with my brothers had taken the children out and allowed them to get whatever they wanted. I wasn’t the uncle that would lie and tell my nephews and niece that fighting was never the answer. Sometimes it was necessary to put a bully in their place with your fists. And I’d be damned if I didn’t let them know they’d done a hell of a job in doing so.
“Okay, Uncle Ty, Mommy says I gotta hang up now.”
I grinned at the sadness in Diego’s voice. “Okay, champ. I’ve gotta go myself. I’ve got another early practice in the morning. I’ll see you next week for family day, all right?” I didn’t doubt I’d be talking to Diego again before then, but I wanted to leave him with a reminder to wipe away some of his sadness.
“Okay, love you. G’nite.”
“Love you back. Night, buddy.” I hung up and tossed my phone on the bed. I glanced over to see Kelvin just turning over, headphones in his ears, probably listening to one of his true crime podcasts to drift off to sleep. Like Diego and Kelvin, I should’ve taken my ass to sleep. I had to be up early for another grueling day of two-a-days, that’s two practices in one day, followed by lectures and watching videos to go over and perfect our plays. Training camp was meant to be grueling. It was how we prepared for the ups and downs of the next six months of the season. At least we hoped it would last for six months, putting us into the playoffs and the big game.
But even as I daydreamed of the possibility of winning that coveted ring, the satisfaction I often felt just envisioning that day was tampered. Something felt as if it were missing. That’s when I picked up my phone, pulled up the podcast I’d been listening to, and hit play.
“Welcome back. We’ve been talking with …”
A calm settled over me as her voice welcomed the listeners back from their commercial break. I strolled over to my bed, turning off the lamp that stood on the wooden nightstand between our beds, before getting into my own. After thirty minutes or so, I drifted off into a peaceful, dreamless sleep to the sound of Destiny McDonald’s voice.
****
Destiny
“So, what’s today’s hot topic?” I questioned, speaking into the microphone I had set up in my home office. It was Wednesday evening and Resha and I were recording our podcast so that I could post it on our website the next day. Since Resha was still in Europe, we had to record long-distance over the phone which wasn’t ideal but it worked out. Our podcasts garnered hundreds of thousands of listeners every week, something that I’d never dreamt was attainable when we first started. But fours years later it was very successful for the both of us. There were so many women, young and old alike, who hungered for financial knowledge that wasn’t being passed down by condescending men or by someone who wasn’t trying to sell them something. Couple that information with both Resha and my love of fashion and we had a hit on our hands.
“I was thinking of taking the shame out of shopping at consignment shops or thrift stores.”
“I love it,” I stated into the microphone. “How did you come up with the idea for this topic?”
Each week Resha and I switched off on choosing the weekly hot topic ideas. They were always a surprise to the other, because we didn’t reveal our topic until the recording. I felt it made the podcast seem more authentic, to get one another’s natural, off-the-cuff reaction on-air. It was Resha’s week to choose the topic and I loved what she’d chosen.
“Since being here in Europe, I’ve passed by so many consignment shops. And the people are not ashamed of going in and looking around or buying from these places. A Parisian fashion blogger I met the other day, practically gushed over the outfit she wore that she’d gotten from a second-hand shop. So my question to you, Destiny, is why do you think Americans are more leery of thrift stores and consignment shops?”
“I think you know my answer to that, Resh, but I’ll tell you anyway,” I began. “There are many reasons, and some of them are legit, of course. We all want to pay for quality, and when buying second-hand, we can’t always be sure of the quality or of the care the previous owner took with the item, right? But I think it goes deeper than that. It goes hand-in-hand with the keeping up with the Jones’ mentality.”
“Here she goes, y’all.”
I laughed. “No, hear me out …” I went on talking about some people’s obsession with new, flashy items and how buying second-hand or from thrift stores didn’t fit that standard. Resha and I volleyed the topic back forth between us over the next ten minutes before moving on to reader questions. This was my favorite section of the podcasts. I thoroughly enjoyed hearing our listeners’ questions on everything from saving for retirement, starting a fashion blog, paying off student loans, money and relationships, and more. We went through about five reader questions that I’d chosen for that segment, before closing out.
“One week, we should do a whole podcast solely answering listener’s questions. I only pick out three to five per episode but we get hundreds each week,” I told Resha right after we ended our recording and I turned my mic off. It was only us on the phone now.
“Yeah, that’s a great idea. I know we can’t get to all of the questions each week, so taking on as many as possible in one segment would be a way to get to more,” she agreed just before letting out a huge yawn.
“It’s late over there, huh?”
“Almost eleven and I have to be up early tomorrow.”
“I won’t hold you too long,” I responded, pressing the button on my phone to turn on the speaker and walking toward the kitchen.
“No, it’s fine. I wanted to ask you how it went with the football players yesterday.”
“Pssh.” I rolled my eyes.
“That bad?”
