Going the Distance (10 page)

“Hey, dude, I’m not threatening you,” he explained quickly. “My brother is gay, so I’m okay with you. I just don’t want her to—”

“I’m not gay!” I half said, half cried, opening the door and falling out of the car. The cold brought some of my senses back to me, and I heard him call out behind me and realized I was on my feet, somehow…. I stumbled across the parking lot, no idea where I was running to.

But I sure knew what I was running away from.

W
E
CAME
in third place that season, no thanks to the other teams.

Our cohesion came apart at the seams the very next game and was mostly my fault. I never called Cody that night, and in fact didn’t say one word to him until the next Monday. When he approached me and tried to ask me what had happened, I just made an excuse and headed to the office. I changed most of my schedule around so I didn’t have four classes with him anymore. That lunch I didn’t bother to show up at the table, instead eating in an empty classroom as I dodged the inevitable.

It came in the locker room as we changed for practice. The look of hurt and confusion on his face was like razor blades moving up my arm. I just ignored him as I tied my shoes and tried to slip away from him before everyone else walked out. As I turned away from him, I saw we were alone, and I cursed under my breath as he grabbed the back of my jersey.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked, his voice laced with emotion.

I sighed and refused to turn around. “Someone saw us in the gym, dude.” His hand dropped away. “We need to stay away from each other.” I waited a five count; when he didn’t say anything, I walked out to the court. It was the last time we ever talked alone again. The coach tried to whip us back into line, but the magic was gone. I’m not sure how much the rest of the team knew; almost nothing, probably, since we weren’t openly mocked or ridiculed as being fags. Tommy was good to his word. I never heard one rumor about me or Cody, which was a good thing. I spent the rest of the season and then the school year in quiet misery.

My dad never asked specifically what had happened, but I think he might have guessed what was wrong. The third week into me coming home from practice and just lying quietly in my room, he came in and asked me the only question he ever asked on the subject.

“You okay?” he asked, sitting on the edge of my bed. I nodded but said nothing. “You ever go out with that girl?” I shook my head no and forced my face to remain completely inexpressive. We sat in silence for a few moments, the room dark as I listened to him breathing. “What happened to that boy you were friends with?” I refused to look at him as I said nothing. He sighed as he got up and shook his head. “Life sucks, Danny,” he announced out of nowhere. “It sucks even more without friends… or happiness.”

I no longer had any idea what happiness felt like.

The school year crawled to an end, and the team drifted even further apart as Tommy and the seniors prepared to graduate. It was a few days before the end of the year when Tommy walked up to my locker as I was stashing my books. “Got a second?” he asked. I nodded, though my stomach quietly began to turn itself into knots. We walked into an empty classroom, and he closed the door behind him. “Look, man….” He ran a hand through his hair as he seemed to struggle for the right words. “I don’t know what went down between Cody and you, but I know I had something to do with that, and I’m sorry.”

My face could have been etched out of marble. Blinking felt like too much expression.

“But I don’t want to be the cause of you guys never talking again.” I didn’t say anything, and he gave me a look. “Seriously, man, if you don’t talk to him again, you’ll never forgive yourself.”

I sighed and held up a hand to cut him off. “Fine, Tommy, I promise to talk to him over the summer, okay?”

I saw the look of confusion on Tommy’s face, and he saw the lack of understanding on mine. “Dude, his family is moving. Today is his last day here.”

I’m not sure if I pushed him aside in my rush to get out the door, but I wouldn’t be surprised if I had. His locker stood empty, the door hanging open, and I took off for the front parking circle. By the time I got out front of the school, I saw his mom’s car just starting to pull away. I saw Cody in the backseat look at me through the rear window, and I raised my right hand, waved—I think—and, when the car kept going, lowered my arm.

If I hadn’t been in front of the school and dozens of people, I would have broken down and begun to cry. I have no idea how long I stood there watching the car drive away. I knew there was almost no one around by the time I got to the bus stop, which meant it was sometime after school. I sat and tried not to break down on the bus as I listened to music on my iPod. I didn’t know what felt worse: the fact we had been caught by Tommy, the fact I had blown Cody off for the rest of the year, or the fact I was never going to see him again.

When I got home, I flew into the door with the intention of calling Cody’s house and saying something. My hand hovered over the phone for almost a minute, while both sides of my brain argued about what I could say. I didn’t know if I should apologize or just beg for forgiveness. All I knew was that I felt abjectly miserable and guilty and stupid. I looked up when I passed the living room, and I saw my dad, talking to a stranger.

“Danny?” my dad called out. “Can you come in here, please?”

I felt my mouth go dry as I backtracked a couple of steps and bought myself a second to think as I closed the front door tight. My mind scrambled through every movement I’d ever made. Ever, starting from where I was standing and telescoping back as far as Germany. I searched frantically for something I had done wrong enough that a visit from a strange adult might be warranted. I couldn’t find anything besides Joshua that was that bad. I sat down on the free chair and tried not to feel like I was a six-year-old waiting for a spanking.

My dad turned toward me and looked me directly in the eyes, effectively shutting out the other man. “I want you to answer his question as honestly as possible.” I nodded, though my eyes flicked toward the stranger and then back to my dad. “Are you serious about basketball?” I instantly began to nod again, but he held a hand up to stop me. “I don’t mean for just playing and having fun. I mean for real.” That caused me to pause. “Is this something you possibly want to do for the rest of your life, or is it just a hobby that you’re enjoying for the time being?”

I didn’t understand the full complexity of the question, but I could sense how earnest he was and how important my answer would be.

I didn’t have the proper words to tell anyone how much basketball meant to me, but just as I always had every other time in my life I’d been asked that question, my heart knew all the words.

I had spent most of my life so far sailing somewhere between two coasts, the one who I was and the other who I was supposed to be, and the journey was driving me slowly insane. More times than not, I had spent endless stretches of time stranded on those still waters, slowly drifting, with no clear direction to pick. I was waiting for a great gust of wind to choose for me once and for all and push me in the direction I needed to go. But the older I grew, the more it dawned on me that the decision was going to be up to me. Which way? How to get there? Where
is
“there”?

The only time I never felt like that was when I was playing basketball.

The very moment my fingers touched that ball, I was both who I am and who I was supposed to be, and there was never a doubt in my mind about that as long as I was on the court.

If someone were to take basketball away from me, I had no idea what I’d end up doing. More accurately, I had no idea who I’d end up becoming. Which pretty much answered the question for me.

“It’s my life,” I answered, not realizing at the time the dual meaning behind my words.

My dad didn’t blink as he scrutinized my face and thought over my words more thoroughly than I could ever remember him doing. “Fair enough,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “This is Mr. O’Keefe from Nike, and he has an offer for you.”

“Nike?” I repeated, confused.

He smiled and nodded. “Hi, Danny. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. Call me Jim. I’ve seen six of your games this season, and I have to admit I was pretty impressed.”

“You saw us play?” I asked, completely floored that anyone outside of my school and our competitors had seen us play.

He nodded and flipped open a folder he had on his lap and began to skim it. “Decent scoring, impressive rebounds, but what really got my attention was your assists.” He looked up at me and asked, “Do you know what the percentage of points scored this season by your team was directly attributed to an assist from you?” I shook my head. I didn’t know anyone even kept track of stats like that. “I didn’t think so. Suffice it to say the number the Tigers make drops drastically every time you walk off the court.” He put the folder back down on the table and leaned in toward me. “We’d like to invite you to join us this summer at our skills camp.”

I blinked a few times. “Join who?”

He chuckled. “Nike sponsors a skills camp every year for high school players we think have potential to be a lot more, to go further than the average player. It’s by invitation only, and trust me when I say not a lot of freshmen get invited.”

I thought he was going to say more, but he was waiting for me to say something. After a few seconds I asked, “How many?”

He looked confused now. “How many what?”

“How many freshmen were invited this year?”

“Including you?” I nodded. “One.” His smile said it all.

I looked at my dad, whose face was as unreadable as a bar of soap. I looked back to the guy. “How much does it cost?”

“We can afford it,” my dad stated. I looked at him because the tone of his voice was sterner than normal. “
If
you’re serious about it.”

“I am,” I answered quickly. And all of a sudden, I was babbling. “I really am. I was already worried how I was going to stay in shape this summer. I don’t know anyone who plays so I was just going to try to find pickup games.” His expression didn’t waver. “Please, Dad! I want to do this.” Nothing. “I need to do this.” More nothing.

“We do need to know quickly,” the man said, gathering up his stuff. “The spots are extremely limited.”

My eyes widened as I silently begged my dad.

My dad stood with the man. “He’s in.”

I tried not to jump up and cheer as they shook hands. “Excellent!” Mr. O’Keefe said as he dug in his briefcase and handed my dad a large envelope. “Here is the admission packet. Send it in by the end of the week, and you’ll receive a registration packet in the mail.” The man looked at me and then looked up higher to meet my gaze. “You have a gift, Danny.” He held out his hand. “We look forward to helping it flourish.”

I probably almost squeezed his hand off as I pumped his arm up and down and gushed, “Thank you
so
much, Mr. O’Keefe! This is a dream come true! I won’t let you guys down!”

He laughed as he extracted his hand and rubbed the blood back into his white fingers. “Trust me, son, just show up and play as well as I saw you this season, and you won’t let anyone down.” He tried to get around me, but I didn’t register it. I was much too busy gushing and babbling mentally.

“Danny,” my dad said in a low voice, “let the man out. You’re blocking the door.” I scrambled out of the way, and they both smiled at me. “Thank you, sir.” I followed them the few steps to the front door because I didn’t have a clue what else to do.

The man shook his head as my dad opened the door. “No, Danny. Thank you.”

I had never been so damn happy in my entire life. Dad stepped out of the house to have a few words with Mr. O’Keefe, while I stood in the entry, smiling and then really smiling. When Dad came back inside, he slipped by me and headed to the kitchen, no doubt wanting to be safe when everything that had just happened sank in.

I finally exploded in exhilaration, letting off several whoops of absolute joy as I danced around the living room like a maniac. My dad sat at the kitchen table thumbing through the papers, no doubt learning all he could about it before he put a pen to paper. I stopped midleap and looked over at him. “Where is it?”

“Florida,” he answered, not looking up from his reading.

“I’m going to Florida to learn basketball?” I asked myself out loud, completely blown away by just the thought.

“Looks that way,” he said, turning one paper over and examining the fine print on it in detail.

I instantly went back to dancing. “I’m going to Florida! I’m going to Florida!”

This went on for some time. Possibly two days.

Over an hour later, I had settled down and was sitting across from my dad, looking at the paperwork as well, as we waited for the pizza to arrive. I was scanning over the pictures of the guys who were pictured playing the game in years past when my dad put the papers down and looked over at me. I glanced back over the paper I was browsing and waited for him to say we needed to talk. “So we need to talk.”

I tried not to smile as I put the paper down.

“I am not accusing you of anything, and I don’t want you to think you’re in trouble.” And that feeling of sitting in the seat of shame returned. “But this is a big thing.” I nodded, knowing he was nowhere near the point he wanted to make. “Places like this are where you start making a name for yourself; the people who are in charge and who’ll be teaching you are professionals in basketball.” Another nod, because we were getting closer but not quite there. “That means when you go there, you’re going to have to be on your best behavior.” Slower nod. “That also includes anything someone else might find offensive or inappropriate.” I felt a chill move through me as it began to dawn on me what he was talking about. “I’m not saying whatever happened with this boy on the team was like it was with Joshua, but nonetheless, there was something odd about it.” I strained to hear him over the pounding of my heart as it struggled to burst free from my chest. “That’s all well and good, but if something like that was to happen at a place like that and it was to get out….”