Page 51 of The Brooklyn Way
I placed it face down in the water while Mr. Waverly read Jeremiah 29:11.
Brooklyn followed me into my office at the community center. Initially, I had no intention of going to work on that day. However, after we’d eaten brunch Brooklyn’s grandparents wanted a nap. Since we had a few hours to kill before we went back to my parents’ house to spend time with them, we stopped by the community center. I offered to take Brooklyn to the crib. She had cried a lot, plus she was on her period. I figured she was exhausted. She begged off going to the house, opting instead to follow me to the community center.
When I heard the lock on the door engage behind me, I knew exactly what type of time my girl was on.
I turned to face her with a grin on my face. “I feel like I’m about to get my dick sucked for putting together the memorial today.”
“And for getting my grandparents here,” she made her way toward me, “and for being so thoughtful.”
She moved past me to my desk, slid the chair out, then reached for my belt.
My eyes ballooned in realization. “Oh shit. Are you ’bout to make my fantasy of you sucking me off while I sit at my desk come true?”
“Sure am. Now, call one of the other coaches in here and talk about inconsequential shit while I do my thing.” She winked an eye at me saucily. “But you’d better not bust.”
Three Weeks Later
My basketball skills and fundamentals camp wrapped up as the children’s summer vacation came to an end and they returned to school. The morning after the program ended, I returned to the community center to make sure that everything was everything.
My cousin Will was with me as I did a final walk-through around the gymnasiums, making sure nothing was left behind. But as soon as we walked through the door, I could see clothing strewn on the bleachers.
“These kids don’t care about nothing,” I commented as I gathered yet more items to add to the lost and found. “I don’t even know how some of them still have clothes at the crib. With as much stuff as they leave here, you think their parents would notice.”
“Man.” He took a chug from his bottle of water. “These parents ain’t engaged with their kids. They’re too busy being engaged with their phones… or their edibles.”
I chuckled because he was telling the truth.
“It was a good program, but damn that was a lot of work,” he commented, “and I can already see some ways we can improve it next year.”
I nodded as I draped a forgotten T-shirt over my shoulder and grabbed an errant basketball. “Say less.”
Will followed me to the closet where we stored the equipment. “So, what’re you gonna do?” he asked as I placed the basketball on the rack.
“About what?” Of course I was fronting. I knew what he was talking about. I had been asked some version of that same question one hundred times a day since the beginning of the month. Everybody wanted to know what I was going to do about my relationship with Brooklyn.
“Bro, don’t do that. You know what I’m talking about. What are you gonna do about baby girl? You know, the one who makes you act all soft? The one who gets all googly-eyed every time she sees you? I’mma tell you what you need to do. You need to slide Carrington some money and go ahead and get in on this wedding with her and Bryce. Have a double wedding and go ’head and marry that girl, because everybody can see y’all are in love.”
“We’ve known each other for less than three months. It’s too soon.”
He side-eyed me and twisted his lips. “Dog, she’s been living with you since your birthday.”
I started to protest.
“Aht aht!” He cut me off. “Don’t lie, motherfucker. Don’t lie. I’m not judging. I’m just saying. She’s been living in your spot, twin. I know y’all are having pillow conversations between fucking. You probably already know about her childhood, about her likes and dislikes. I know you know her favorite color. With all that damn pink she wears, everybody knows her favorite color. You already know how she acts on her period, because you’ve been living with her for over a month now. Do tell me you don’t know her. What the hell else is there to know? Two months really don’t mean shit when you’re with a person every damn day. Y’all just put the relationship on fast forward.”
I couldn’t believe that Will was making sense. I heaved out a heavy sigh. “Yo, I like this girl.”
“No shit.”
“I mean, I really like her. I would take her back to Chicago with me in a minute. I mean, just tuck her little ass right inside my suitcase and stash her at my crib. Do you know how much stress it would relieve if after a fucked-up practice or a loss, I knew I was going home to her? But my world on Jackson Island is one hundred and eighty degrees different from my life in Chicago.”
He cocked his head to the side and bugged out his eyes. “Nigga, ain’t she from Chicago? You think she can’t figure out how to make a life for herself outside of you in her hometown? Dog, be easy. You’re overthinking this.”
“If she wants to come back to Chicago with me… I’m open to that,” I admitted for the first time. I didn’t know why I was being so transparent with Will. Probably because he was so vulnerable and hurt about the loss of his child and his girl. I knew he wouldn’t give me hell about sharing my thoughts and feelings. “I don’t think she does, though. Every time we talk about our future, she’s… hesitant. She says she needs to make sure that she didn’t trade her dependency on the last dude for a dependency on me.”
He was silent for a few moments, contemplating. “Do you feel like she’s trying to slide you into dude’s place?”
“Not at all. But it doesn’t really matter what I think or feel if she doesn’t trust herself. She needs to trust herself. I’m not about to rush her or force her to do it.