There’s no way Nola would have asked Aaliyah or Amir how we celebrated, so the sheer fact I was sticking to tradition hundreds of miles away had me tearing up.
“I’m taking a picture of my plate to send to my siblings.” I warned Nola as I reached for my phone.
“Please don’t; they’re going to rip into me.”
“No, they won’t! This isreallygood Nola, I promise!”
“If they shit talk me, just don’t tell me.”
“You don’t believe in live feedback?” I asked before shoveling more food into my mouth and moaning again.
This time I noticed the way Nola’s body froze. My eyes were half-closed and my face grew hot. That electric wire between us buzzing so loud in my head I opened my eyes all the way.
Her brown eyes were as dark as mine, pools of dark chocolate that I got lost in,havegotten lost in. Eyes that, if I was being honest, I was in denial about wanting to wade in deeper to see how deep I could go.
“I haven’t thought about what someone said about me for a while now.” She was testing me.
“Not even me?”
Nola didn’t answer immediately, staring silently. Her eyes were hungry, as if this was her only opportunity to memorize my features. As if she hadn’t committed them to memory like I’d done for her. She was quiet for so long I thought she was choosing to ignore me.
Instead, she bested me by saying, “As it turns out, you might be the exception.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Nola
A week later, I was on the beach, green juice by Brittney in hand, finger hovering over my mom’s name in my phone. I didn’t set out with a goal to ice her out for two months, but if eighty-five percent of our conversations were about basketball, and she was the last person I wanted to speak with about it, I had no reason to talk.
But as training camp loomed closer across the league, I still felt this betrayal like an ice pick in my chest. Even if I didn’t stay on with the Waves after this year, the Violets was no longer my home. I had to move on.
Two weeks ago, every team got to debut their regular season schedule, and my eyes scanned to count how many times the Waves would be going up against the Violets.
Five separate times. Three times we’d be playing Chicago since they were the higher seed, and twice here in Miami. Five times to prove to the Violets front office that they made a huge mistake. My ego needed a boost.
Before I decided I needed more time, I hit Olivia’s name and listened to the ringing. The key to making this call productive was to be objective and removed. A slight trace of emotion, but not too much or Olivia would shut down. I think my little sister’s personality had made our mom more receptive to emotional humans, but it still wasn’t her default.
“Nola Belle Young.”
“Olivia Shanell Young.”
“Is the silent treatment over?”
“I needed space. From everyone.” I said, monotone.
“But not from your sister.” My mom countered.
“Of course not.” There’s never a world where I wasn’t here for my little sister.
“Are you ready to talk?” My mom sighed, impatience making her tone sharper.
“Are you ready to explain yourself?” I snapped.
For once Olivia did not rush to assert her opinion or thoughts as soon as she thought them. I was shocked that she was choosing to take her time instead. Clay must be somewhere in the room.
“I really didn’t think I’d make it far, honey. Ineedyou to understand that. This wasn’t my first spin going for a head coach position in the league, so I thought it’d be like every other time. Everyone’s too scared to hire a woman—let alone a former playe—as head coach, but I was always the first call when it was up for consideration.”
I nodded as if she could see me, because of course I got it. In a league dominated by women setting new record highs every game, coach staffing still leaned heavily male. As if our own legends who had the skills and capabilities to lead teams were obsolete the second they hung their jerseys up.
