“‘I’m completely sober thanks to Mom...’”
She keeps talking and everything I didn’t feel in that parking lot with Cree comes hurling through my body while Ace holds me around my middle, bracing himself for another fucked up thing to happen to him on Earth.
“‘So I’m for sure not supposed to talk about this because his crazy ass lawyer made me sign an NDA when he found out I was going to give an exclusive to Gayle King, but you’re Javi’s sister so...’”
“‘He caught me sneaking out of Ace’s cabin that night in Malibu. It wasn’t shit in there but his mom sleeping, so I left. How else was I supposed to get out of trouble when Javi kept questioning me about it?’”
Now, her confession feels like it should. My chest fills with warmth when Coach Williams charges out of his chair toward us. When Mama wakes up, I can tell her that for the first time in my life I saw two grown men cry—deep, soul-stirring, heart mending cries that shake a hospital room.
Tears fill my eyes and Coach Williams wraps his blurry arm around Ace’s neck. I want to shake Ace and tell him how fucking ridiculous it is for us to wallow over Coach Williams’ pride in other boys when the look on his face is worth more than any “I’m proud of you” will ever be. It’s pure like he’s meeting Ace for the first time since he came out of Angie’s womb.
Ace pulls his face from my chest. His tears stain my buff colored shirt. I swipe at them just like I did on his balcony and fight against those deep, heart-pounding, gasping for air fucked up panic attacks that make me forget about my own tears.
The air in the room gets still again, and he sounds exposed, like he did last night when he told me he loved me.
“I’m sorry,” he gasps.
And he’s still apologizing for a thing that never happened. A pretend crime that came from a girl’s imagination.
I want to crawl into him again, but I can’t, so I settle for his lips, pressing mine into them as hard as I can while he trembles underneath me.
“That’s enough,” I coo into his mouth. “No more torturing yourself. We finally made it to the end.”
“So what happens now?” he asks, red-faced and raw, with Coach Williams hanging onto his neck.
I don’t have the answer or know the right thing to say, so I follow Mama’s advice.
“You go back down to Earth for a lil’ while. There’s some people that miss you there, but don’t stay too long. I need my pilot back at home because that’s what happens at the end of it all, right? You come home—you come home to the only Lourdes you’re supposed to love, just like Angie wanted.”
I was wrong about little by little miracles. Today is a day for them, but they’re not little. They’re strong, like Coach Williams’ arms around Ace’s neck. They’re heavy, like my lips on his face. They’re as big as Ace’s heart that keeps holding onto Angie, and they’re loud, like the raspy breaths that cut through Ace and Coach Williams’ sobs.
We all pull away, looking at each other’s mouths, but the raspy breaths keep coming until I glance over at Mama’s wide brown eyes staring at us.
“Mama?” I squeak out.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-ONE
Ace
Six Months Later
Reporter’s voices sound worse when I’m asleep.
“This is a Cinderella story for history books. Lockwood State is the lowest seeded teamandfirst HBCU to dance their way all the way through the Sweet Sixteen, Elite Eight, and in true Cinderella fashion, they’ve made it back home to the Final Four here in Houston. Although basketball is a team sport, a lot of folks might argue that our hometown team has a special point guard to thank for their success. We got the rare chance to talk to a few sources close to Ace Williams better known asThe Kid,depending on who you ask. And get this, he’s going to be late to the Lions’ open practice before tonight’s semifinal game because his girlfriend’s mother has her last round of chemotherapy and heisamped—”
“History breaking! Record setting! Awe-inspiring! The world wants to know—isThe Kidfinally headed to the draft after his record-breaking performance in this year’s big dance? Listen to what his dad had to say in our exclusive—”
“Shannon, have you ever seen anything like this? The kid’s in the middle of a defamation trial while playing the best basketball of his life. He’s flying back and forth from LA to whatever city the team’s playing in. This makes me question AW’s decision making as a father to a kid as troubled as Ace. He’s still grieving and rehabbing his tarnished reputation. There are alotof things coming to light in this trial—”
It’s like a never-ending loop of voices floating through my dreams while I try to squeeze in five more minutes with Mom. Muffled girly voices sneak under my blanket as I squeeze my eyes tighter and fight to hang onto the cloud she’s sitting on.
“How does it feel?” Chelsea asks.
It’s too early for reporters, FaceTime calls, and for Chelsea to dissect her and Phat’s every thought, but they don’t care. They never do. And I never complain about it.
“How does what feel?”
“To see your man on TV every day.”
