“Anyway, can you come over?”
“Yep. What time?”
“Does now work? My dad didn’t work today, so he won’t be overly tired, and he’ll be happy you’ve stopped by. At least for a few minutes.” Malik’s face turned grim. “I’m really afraid he’s going to kick me out.”
I put my hand on his shoulder. “Even if he does, my door’s open. You’ll have a place to stay.”
“Thanks, Coach.” Malik ran toward the locker room, leaving me with my thoughts.
At this point, I should’ve considered opening a home for my players. I’d already told Cutter he could live with me, although I wasn’t sure how Antonia would feel about that. She’d said she and the kids were here, at least until the start of next year. And then what?
“And then nothing,” I muttered to myself as I walked toward my office. Antonia had a life away from Grove Hill. She had a boyfriend and a job, and she didn’t need the likes of me trying to intervene.
Lust was a tricky emotion to navigate, evident by what Malik was going through, although we were in completely different situations. I hadn’t bothered looking twice at a woman until I’d spotted Antonia, and now I couldn’t get her off my mind.
In my office, I gathered my things and waited for Malik to come out of the locker room. He tried to look cheerful when, in fact, he looked grim, and his complexion was ashen. I put my hand on his shoulder as we walked out of the gym.
“It’s easy for me to say everything will be okay. I don’t know if it will be or not, but I do know you can sit down with your dad and accept responsibility.”
Malik didn’t say anything. I imagined he was probably scared shitless. I would’ve been.
I followed him over to his house, and as we walked in, his father, Gordon, greeted me like we were old friends. It was shortly after I’d arrived and started my job that Gordon had told me he knew who I was and that he’d been a fan. We’d been friends ever since, but not the type to always hang out. If he wasn’t working and was enjoying a beverage at the diner, we’d sit together.
“Coach, glad you could join us,” he said as he shook my hand. “I’ve had the ribs on the cooker since this afternoon, when Malik said he invited you over for dinner. Come in, come in. Can I get you something to drink?”
I gave Malik the side-eye. I didn’t like dishonesty, and while it wasn’t egregious, he needed to know it wasn’t okay to stretch the truth. What would he have said to his dad if I couldn’t come over?
“I’m good with water, Gordon. Please don’t go to any trouble.”
“Nah, no trouble,” he said, waving away my comment. “Come on in, the game’s on.”
I followed Malik into the small living room and sat on the couch, leaving the recliner for Gordon. The sliding glass door opened, and the smell of smoked ribs wafted through the air. My stomach whined in anticipation.
“Malik, set the table, please.”
“Yes, sir.” Malik went to his room with his bags and then came back empty handed. I stood and went to help, needing something to do because, honestly, I felt awkward.
Gordon went in and out, returning with a plate of ribs and tinfoil-wrapped baked potatoes.
“What can I do?”
“Please, just sit. You’re our guest.” No, I was going to be a mediator and support system for one of my students. I asked Malik what he and his father would drink with dinner and busied myself gathering their beverages.
“Okay, I think that’s it,” Gordon said. I waited for him to sit down before I took my seat. He asked for our plates and heaped food onto each one. Part of me felt guilty for eating such an expensive meal, knowing Gordon worked two jobs, but not eating what he’d made would be an insult.
Now that I was here, I regretted agreeing. Malik was going to break the news to his father over a home-cooked meal, and it could possibly ruin his night.
While I sat there, the appetite I had was gone. I wanted to support Malik, as promised, but I also wanted this over with. We ate in silence, breaking to talk sports and the upcoming games. Everyone in town expected us to be in the championship game. I had high hopes for my boys but would take each win as they came.
As soon as Gordon pushed his plate away, Malik cleared his throat. “Dad?”
Gordon looked at his son, and it was like he knew. I could see some sense of realization on his face.
“Spit it out.”
Malik looked at me, and I nodded, watching as his eyes filled with tears. “I made a mistake.”
Gordon nodded.
