In the Basket
“We’re going to Slapshots, wanna come?” Owen comes to my doorway to invite me. Everyone has been trying to get me to go out, but other than trying to run into Savannah, to make sure she’s okay, I don’t know what I would do.
“Not really feeling it,” I argue.
“She’s at Lacey’s. Darren mentioned something about painting nails and cucumber masks, so you can rest assured both that she’s okay, and that you won’t accidentally run into her. Unless that would convince you to come, in which case maybe I heard they were heading out.”
“How is she?” I’m trying my best to keep my distance, but it’s fucking hard, and I know he walked her to class this afternoon.
“She’s tough,” he assures me. “A little too polite and forgiving.”
“Because people are assholes?”
“No, most people are great. Saying hi, inviting her places…she’s like big man on campus, and she takes it all in stride.”
I’ve watched Savannah walk across the quad, getting stopped at least a dozen times, and she always smiles at them as if their fake friendliness is making her day. Or maybe the friendliness is real, and they’ve suddenly figured out she deserves it. It grates on my nerves, but then it kills me when they walk away and her face drops, because even if they’re all being nice, they’re making it painfully obvious that they only think she’s worthwhile because of her brothers, when that’s literally the last reason I would want to hang out with her.
“They’re assholes.”
“Some of them are. But I’m guessing most of them just never knew she existed until last weekend.”
“It’ll die down, right?” I ask, thinking of that sad look on her face that broke my heart.
“It comes in waves. I’m guessing it’ll only get worse until after the Superbowl, then it’ll die down only to resurface whenever baseball starts, or if there’s a scandal, a big endorsement, or anything else that puts them on a front page.”
“Fuck.” Just thinking of it is giving me a headache for her. “How do you deal with it?”
“I grew up with it. My dad was a household name before I was born, and I want a career that’s also public facing, unfortunately, so it’s like I keep inviting it in.”
“You changed your name,” I point out.
“Just for hockey. Because I want to be known for my own accomplishments, not for my dad’s.”
“Sav hates the spotlight, but I’m guessing this is why. No one cares, but everyone wants a piece of her.”
“At least the bunnies are obvious about it.” Owen sighs.
My brow furrows and I might growl.
“I just mean…when I was in junior high, my dad did a movie with this boy band, and it took me an embarrassingly long time to figure out that all the girls who were suddenly talking to me wanted to meet the band, not get to know me. Bunnies bat their eyes and you know exactly what you’re getting into, but when you’re not the person they’re after, they have to be more subtle. I’ve had girls just come out and ask for my dad’s autograph, or to meet my brother-in-law, no preamble, and honestly, I was way more into that, but most people feel like they need to win you over first, then ask you for an in, or just wait around until you offer it up, and that’s what sucks, because you don’t know it’s happening until they get what they wanted, but by then what you want is probably to be their friend or their person, which is in direct conflict to their using you to get to someone else.”
“How could she think I was…” It makes no sense that Savannah can’t see that I would never hurt her like that. Would give up ever watching another football game or meeting her brother if it could make her feel better, but then I see Owen’s face and I remember that up until Friday, I was trying to keep all my feelings on the inside.
“I know you think there should be signs, and there are, but if you’ve never been hurt, if you trust people, you don’t see them. And then once you do, you might stop trusting people entirely. Especially if you let someone in, someone who’s afraid of falling and pretends he hasn’t, and you believe him, right up until he owns up to it and tells you everything you want to hear, just as you find out that he knew that secret, that he never told you, he lied about it, and suddenly you don’t trust anything anymore. Because even as he apologizes you know he hasn’t gotten what you’re afraid he’s after.” I want to argue, but he stops me. “The look on your face says she should know that you want her, that you’ve always wanted her, but if two-faced Kinsey was as good then as she is now, it’s probably easier for her to believe you were playing her than that you love her.”
“Fuck.”
“I know.”
“How do I fix this?”
“Do you want to?”
Right. It’s the same question Savannah asked me. And she probably thinks she got her answer when I stopped chasing after her to fix things because I have my own shit going on. Mom is one bad day away from sinking back into old habits, and Izzie needs someone she can count on. Which could be Doug, but unless she decides he’s the one she wants to call, I will never turn her down.
“More than anything,” I admit. “But it feels like I’m juggling a million balls and every time I think I’ve got it, everything comes crashing down.” Like last weekend, when I lost Savannah and failed Izzie.
“Izzie, Savannah, school, hockey…those are your balls?”
