Swish

Timeout - Eli

"He was a mean son of a bitch, and he wanted me to be the basketball player that he couldn't have been, so he trained me harder than any kid my age should've been trained."

Flashes of my childhood came rushing back to me as I held Virginia in my arms, the rightness of the situation made so wrong by the ugly truth of the past that I was finally sharing with her in hopes that she'd in turn share with me what was upsetting her so badly at the party. 

I knew it was a shitty reason to get someone to open up, by using my own past as almost like a traumatic past ice breaker, but it was all I had.  

"Any time I'd miss a three, he'd shove me on the ground and I'd cut up my back on the asphalt, sometimes on gravel when we'd play at different courts.  It wasn't until later, when I started getting really good, that he got jealous of my skills."

I still remembered the first night it happened, in sharp vivid detail.  He'd been drinking, and my mother was arguing with him over money, one of their most common arguments, but he caught sight of me shooting three after three through the window in the kitchen to the backyard, and for some reason, he saw red. 

"My mom saw him the first time he hit me, and she didn't do anything to stop it.  He stormed outside while I was practicing, and told me I wasn't worth anything.  I got mad, so I shoved him back like he used to do with me, but he didn't fall on his back like I used to.  He reared up and punched me right in the face so hard he almost broke my nose.  My mom screamed, but she didn't really do much."

Virginia was shaking, but I couldn't look her in the eyes, not yet, so I couldn't tell if it was from sympathy or anger, but knowing her and the fire in her spirit, anger was a likely option. 

"After that, the practices were longer, his drinking got worse, and when I went away to college last year, I thought I was done, but my dad, my real dad...he always wanted me to follow in his footsteps and I felt the best way to honor him would to try and be the best I could be.  My only reason for regretting leaving was my little sister, because she's only my half sister.  I don't know if he'd ever hurt her, because she's his blood and I'm not, but when she gets older and if she disrespects him?  I could see it happening, which is what makes following this to the league so hard, knowing how often I'll be gone and not around to protect her from him."

She stiffened in my arms, so I finally allowed myself to glimpse down at her and I sucked in a breath at the pool of tears gathering in her eyes.  I hadn't told her the story to make her cry, or to feel bad for me, but to let her knew that whatever she was going through, I'd understand, that I wouldn't judge her for things out of her control.

"Did...did you ever tell anyone else what he did?"

"No.  I figured since my mother saw and knew about how he treated me, that even if I told someone else they wouldn't believe me because my own mother hadn't done anything to help me."

Her hand traced the side of my cheek, delicate fingers soothing my skin with her touch. 

"I don't want to say I'm sorry but I don't know what else there is to say to that.  How did you get through it?"

I didn't even have to think about it. 

"My real dad, the values that he taught me have been there from the start, even if he died when I was so young.  The thought of protecting my sister by keeping my step father's attention, negative or otherwise, on me and how I was playing was something that kept me going.  I figured if he was too caught up in what I was doing, he would pay less attention to her and give her less chances to be hurt.  Plus, funneling all my energy and emotions into basketball was easier than using it in a way that would hurt me, like partying too hard or fighting, which was something that I did get caught up in before I figured out what worked for me."