He lifted his head and looked directly into my eyes.
“I hate him, Ma. I hate him with everything in me.”
“You have a right to feel that way, baby, but I don’t want you harboring hate in your heart for anyone, not even him. He’s not worth the energy it takes to hate him.”
“I can’t help it. How do you have a child out in the world and never see about them? He’s a millionaire and never checked to see if I had what I needed. He takes care of his other kids, but he didn’t give a damn about if I had what I needed.”
“I don’t have any answers for you, because I used to wonder the same thing. All you need to know is I love you, and you’ve blessed my life in ways I will never be able to explain.”
“I know, Ma. I just needed to get that out. I’m about to go and cool off. Once I get my head together, I’ll go tell Coach Kilo in person. I owe him that much.”
“Good idea. Do you want me to go with you?”
He smiled. “I got it, but thank you.”
We embraced again, and he kissed my cheek before going to his room. I entered my room with a heavy heart, and when Istepped into the shower, I cried like a baby. Nyeem was a strong kid, and he didn’t allow many things to bring him down.
His father's absence hurt him, especially when he found out Ambrose had a whole family. I knew that Nyeem’s high-achieving personality was connected to his need to prove to his absent father that he didn’t need him, because it was addressed in therapy years ago.
I cried because, as hard as I tried to fill the void, there was an ache in my baby boy’s heart I could never ease, because it wasn’t for me to do. I had no choice but to live with that.
It was Friday, and it was almost the end of my workday. I’d been on a high since I saw Nyomi this morning, and I had to work extra hard not to blow up her phone with text messages. The only thing that stopped me was the back-to-back meetings I had.
I’d just made it back to my office after the last meeting with the strength and conditioning coaches. As I checked my email, I saw a tall figure near my door from the corner of my eye just as I heard a knock.
“Wassup, Nyeem? Come in and have a seat.”
“I’m sorry to bother you. One of the ladies up front said I could come back.”
“You’re not a bother. Everything good?”
“In general, yeah, but I have some news you probably won’t like.”
His statement, combined with the serious, almost solemn look on his face, had me very concerned.
“All right. Let me hear it.”
“Unfortunately, I’m no longer interested in being a part of the football team.”
“Damn. That’s not what I wanted to hear. Did something happen to make you change your mind?”
“After giving it more thought, I decided I don’t want to take on too much. Football is very demanding, and?—”
“Aye, the Kurrie kid ain’t all that—Oh, my bad. I didn’t realize you had someone in your office,” Ward said, stopping mid-step.
This was awkward.
“Nyeem Kurrie, this is Ambrose Ward. He would’ve been your position coach.”
Ambrose’s eyes widened, and his body stiffened as he slowly came further into my office and stood behind the chair next to where Nyeem was seated. The air became thick, which didn’t surprise me after what Ambrose had said, but it was almost suffocating.
Nyeem appeared to be taking slow, deep breaths as he stood with his hands holding the straps of his backpack. He turned to Ambrose, folded his arms across his chest, and mean-mugged him. It seemed like he was sizing Ambrose up, and honestly, it was warranted.
Ambrose returned the stare, but he looked like he’d seen a ghost. This went on for about fifteen or twenty seconds before Nyeem unfolded his arms, grabbed the straps of his backpack again, and shook his head as he left my office. I had no idea what I’d witnessed, but I definitely had questions.
“What the fuck was that about?” Ambrose asked me nervously.
“You were about to talk shit about him.”
