Page 73 of It’s All in How You Fall
To my surprise Bev doesn’t double down on all her sharp edges. Instead, she laughs, and it’s just as elegant as everything else about her. “Oh, hon, I know Alex doesn’t want onenow.He’s made that clear by turning down every invitation to the big leagues he’s received this year. Do you know how many wild cards he’s given up?” I’m about to answer “four” because that was the number she gave me when she complained about this when we first met, but she holds up a spread palm. “Five. Soon to be six, because one just came in at the end of August for a big tournament in Winston-Salem.
“These aren’t just invitations—they’re opportunities. Alex is a smart kid, but he won’t realize what he’s given up until they aren’t piling on my desk anymore.” She serves a brittle smile. “He wants to score goals and dump vats of Gatorade on his coaches and ride around in that ridiculous car of his in his three-sport letter jacket.”
That’s not at all what Alex wants. Or at least what he’s told me he wants. I open my mouth to inform her that she’s wrong, that he doesn’t want the glory, he wants theexperience, when her stark blue eyes pin me straight in the face from over the top of her sunglasses.
“Did that sound flip? I didn’t mean it to sound flip. I just get frustrated…” She sighs, and for a hot second I think I see the person beyond all her gleaming armor. “Because he has no idea how many people would kill for the chances he has.”
I think of Alex, just wanting to be normal. Not wanting the big career. I think of Sunny, giving up so much to focus in the way he’s not.
Bev adjusts her bag and checks her watch. “Enjoy your time at Northfield today, Caroline.”
Coach Bev’s words won’t leave me. They sit heavy on my chest through practice.
With every minute, every ball, every sip of water, every chunk of advice tossed my way by Alex, snippets of our conversation ring in my ears.
He forgets that he’s special. Often.
These aren’t just invitations—they’re opportunities.
… he has no idea how many people would kill for the chances he has.
I can’t escape the thought that I’m making things worse. Wondering if my fresh start made it that much harder for Alex’s future to begin.
She may not have seen all the pink squares on his calendar, or all the time allotted to me that was not formally blocked out, but the subtext of Coach Bev’s analysis is correct.
I spent basically the month of July being a huge distraction.
Alex wants to do it all, but he also can’t say no. Not to helping me, not to being set up, not to anything.
I know that he was lonely on the road. That he was burnt out. That he just wanted time with his friends. I understand that and I get why he didn’t want to roll right back into the way things were this summer.
But… but what if those opportunities stop coming?
What if I’ve made things irreparably worse for him? Blinded him from his focus? What if all the energy he poured into me hurts him more than it helps me? I’d been so focused on paying him back and yet I didn’t know the true cost until tonight.
And now… what?
What do I do? What can I do? Or maybe most of all: WhatshouldI do?
Alex is free to make his own choices and do what he wants with his life. But Coach Bev’s train of thought keeps rumbling through my head. If it’s her job to make sure he doesn’t regret his choices, isn’t that my job as a friend too?
And if so, what do I do? Eliminate the distractions until he can see a path that’s only for him?
I can’t break up Alex and Sunny. That would be both cruel and worthless. It’s only been a week but trying to forcibly cut her out of Alex’s life now after working so hard to get them back in the same orbit would be seismically terrible for all three of us. And as far as distractions for Alex, I’ve been much worse than a budding romance with Sunny.Ah, the one Alex spends all his time with. The gymnast.
I’m not going to be a drag on his system much longer. In a little over a week I’ll have the Northland coach to build on the tennis knowledge Alex gave me. And Alex will have his soccer bros back in his life, along with his regular sessions with Coach Bev and her watchful eye, and maybe Sunny too.
His color-coded Tetris of a schedule flashes in my mind, all busy and indistinct. Would it be possible for him to do it all—play soccer and basketball and slum it in 6A tennisandaccept enough wild cards to keep things moving? Surely with Alex’s having been varsity in every regular Northland sport, none of his coaches would keep him off a team simply because he wanted to attend a special tennis match or two?
And as the questions keep coming, I realize I’m doing it again. I’m trying to force things and tell Alex what’s best for him, and push him toward the type of path and opportunity I wish I still had.
“Hey, want to hit up the snack bar?” Alex asks as we exit the maze of courts. Actually, it’s not so much of a question as it is a warning, because we’re walking that direction and he’s already waving at the girl behind the counter even though she’s several feet away.
I’m about to defer because I do have to get home to change and hit up Eomma. He knows I’ve got plans but won’t be denied. “It’s 105 in the shade and I happen to know for a fact that theyjustadded frozen malts to the menu.” His waving hand has switched to a static hold of two fingers—the boy is basically putting in our order. “You look like you could use some sugar.”
I don’t know what to say to that. I don’t know what to say at all.
Seated on a stool in front of him with chocolate malt frozen bliss in my hot little hands, I realize that I’ve walked right into a trap. But when Alex raises a thoughtful brow over his own treat, wooden spoon frozen in his tan fingers, the question he asks is not what I expect.
