“With Weston?” I stepped back, exaggerating my surprise.
Covee laughed and waved her hand. “It’s… a long story.”
“I knew it,” I said. “So are you two…?”
“Long,” she repeated, grabbing my hand and tugging me back toward the bench with her. “But I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”
I raised my brow, sobering. The story about Weston could wait. Covee looked worried.
“What is it?” I was already prepared to brainstorm and get her whatever she needed.
“Nothing bad,” Covee was quick to assure. “Yara, relax.”
I didn’t realize the tension in my shoulders and the ‘let’s get to work’ tilt of my head until she rested her hand on mine.
“That’s what I’ve been meaning to talk to you about,” Covee said with a sweet smile. “You.”
“Me?” I frowned.
“I wanted to apologize for how distant I’ve been this year.” She tried to maintain eye contact but dipped her gaze down to her lap after a couple of seconds. “And thank you for alwayschecking in on me. I know it couldn’t have been easy, but… you don’t know how much that means to me. Knowing I’d get a text from you about an event or an invitation made school bearable. My depression made everything so bleak, and the org is one of my only lights… sorry to dump all of this.”
“No, no.” I shook my head, trying to quickly assure her that everything was perfect. She was perfect. “This isn’t a dump at all. This is what I’m here for. What we’re all here for. If you didn’t tell me, I hope you feel comfortable enough to tell someone else.”
I had always wanted to be a safe space in Covee’s world. In all of my girls’ world. They were the sole reason I lasted this long as president. Seeing them grow and thrive, being able to offer them a shoulder to lean on, and a place to go when the rest of campus felt so hostile was all I ever dreamed of. There would be so many places in the world where no one looked out for us. We would be overlooked and expected to survive without help. We were expected to be strong enough to weather any storm while still having enough supplies for our neighbors. If a Black woman couldn’t look to another Black woman for empathy, comfort, help, and love, what hope did we have?
“I wanted to be better this year,” she whispered. “But I couldn’t quite get there, and you didn’t mind. You never minded how I showed up.”
“Of course not.” My voice was gentle as my hand rested on top of hers. “I never care how. I just like when you’re around.”
“That’s what I could never understand.”
I poked out my bottom lip and shrugged. “I took that sister oath to heart when I signed on as a member. Covee, I knew you were doing all you could, and that was more than enough. This season of life was one where you kept to yourself; there’s nothing wrong with that.”
There were tears in her eyes, but they didn’t fall. She brushed at her cheeks anyway, preparing for them.
“I wish I could have been more present this semester,” she confessed. “For you and for everyone. I was so lost.”
“Are you back on the path now?”
Covee nodded. “Getting there. Ready to start asking for more help.”
“Then this is exactly how it should have happened,” I promised.
Timing had never beenDavid and I’s strong suit. I considered that when we were seated at a table three times as long as the one at my parents’ house. Every starting player, significant other (if applicable), and the assistant and head coaches were in attendance. Sprinkled throughout the team were recruiters, guys who had bright futures in the palms of their sun-damaged hands.
Before we could talk, someone ushered David and me to sit down and order our food. I kept looking at him, only to find he was still going back and forth with Weston, who’d sat beside him.
I picked at my appetiser while trying to figure out what I was doing here. My job description was: charm. But charming who, that wasn’t exactly clear. And to what extent I don’t know.
We got about twenty minutes into the meal before the man next to me spoke up,
“These things are a proper obstacle course.”
He had a faint Irish accent. I couldn’t tell if he was talking to himself, the woman on his right, or the guys across from him. But I answered anyway because I was dying on my island of one.
“You’re telling me.” I glanced at the head of the table. “Seems like everyone’s trying to talk without saying anything.”
He smiled at me, dimples deepening in his cheeks. There was a sprinkle of red freckles across his cheeks. His red curls fall over his ears. He looked no older than me, so I assumed he was a player. Maybe he was on the defensive team because he had a stocky build, and I didn’t see him say a single word to David or Weston. The football team comprised over a hundred guys. Not all of them were here tonight —a grand impossibility— and not all of them actually knew each other.
