Faded Alive

Chapter 7

Jamal's POV.

I drove to meet up with James at the beanery, parked, hopped out, fixing my hoodie from the wintery breezy atmosphere and walked in, meeting him seated, chatting with Jack while I strode to them and sat down.

"Hey, what's up". I greeted dropping my hoodie.

"Jamal, the National basketball association will be selecting players, and that will possibly commence on..". James trailed checking his phone. "Three months after the holidays, but unfortunately we have to win the Redders in the next match to be eligible for the NBA drafts, which will also be after the holidays".

At some point, I used to think that Coach Noah's decision of taking me off the team wasn't only about me breaking the sport's rule of fighting in the court but otherwise, maybe of me being strong-headed towards many of his decisions in my life which in many events, it was more competent for me to choose or decide what to do with my own life but he may feel neglected towards the responsibility of a Father, apparently bringing the stern side of him.

I sighed. "Well that will be possible for you two because I'm no longer in the team, James".

"We can likely talk to coach, but you have to answer his calls and you have to talk to him about taking you back to the team yourself". Jack said.

Coach Noah has been calling me after the incident of him taking me off the team, but I neglected his calls and avoided seeing him. Perhaps he was a Father figure in my life, my Coach, ever since I was little and my role model because he was a good basketball player and possibly the best but never made it to the NBA as that was his long gone dream now.

"I don't think talking to him...". My phone buzzing interjected. I checked the phone to the message. "Meet me at my office". I raised my head to the guys, tucked the phone in my jeans pocket. "I have to go". I decided to let go the grudge.

I stood up, walked out, wearing my hoodie back and sauntered to my car. I drove through the freeway and reached the school, parked and walked to the coach's office. I knocked benignly and hesitantly walked in, meeting him seated in his desk with his usual glasses perched on his nose, reading some papers on his table, and the frame of I and him posted at the far end of the desk.

My thought backtracked to years ago when my younger self was filled with jollity, when the sun was brightly rising in my life, flowers blooms and I chased the butterflies to a smiling coach, brushing my curly hair off my face as I stood breathing gently because the world was then gentle with my naive self. Nevertheless I could barely see my life now being mirthful, but I couldn't see coach brushing my anguish off my life.

I sat down, "Coach!". I said quietly and he looked at me for a moment and turned to his papers.

"Jamal, the NBA are commencing the basketball draft three months after the holidays". He stated.

And I shrugged leaning on my seat because why would I be bothered if I was off the team? Howbeit I was never been the one of felicity in my life as many times I was always abstract from people because I was unfortunately seen as a mire to them which I could say I was.

"Your friend came earlier". He continued.

I looked at him. "Who is that?".

"Her name is... Hannah".

"Annah?". I creased my eyebrows to why she was here.

"Right, she came here earlier on the issue of taking you back on the team". He paused whilst I folded my arms.

Perhaps she looked more like the person that always keeps things to herself, because to my little interaction with her, I likely observed her avoidance to sharing her personal life which I complied to respecting that choice of her's, though she was undoubtedly a good friend, but I wouldn't want her to be intrusive towards my own life.

"And she was persuasive enough to make me take you back to the MBs". He clasped his hands.

I looked at him amazed. Did he just say I'm back in the MBs?! I nodded speechless. "I uhm..".

"I want you to be your better self. I want your Father to be proud of the person you've grown Jamal". He leaned back. "I know I had been a tough coach, but you are not the violent boy I raised years ago". He paused.

Years ago when all that was in my little brain was how to Ace my grades, practices of bikes and basketball, sorrounded by countable of friends and echos of laughter but now; now when the reality that flowers withers and lights glooms, a reality that was never favorable, and the reality of an absence mother and the death of a Father. A boy that encountered that much misery was ought to be ferocious or the least, seize to being softened.

"Today is your Father's death anniversary".

My eyebrows creased, "Yeah". I whispered.

"Should I join you to the visit?". And I nodded.

***

We strode silently through the serene atmospheric, greenish graveyard, which I had always been fright of visiting the graveyard before in the sense of avoidance of the vague memories I had with my Father. We got right to the front of my Father's graveyard, written (Khalid Asad). Coach Noah dropped the bouquet of flowers on the grave, whilst I squatted dropping my own flowers.

"Nineteen years ago, Khalid was conflicted with misery when your mom flee, but you were the three years old boy that glued up his shattered self back to a piece". Coach Noah squatted beside me. "He was one of the kindest people and best friend I've had".

However I had vague memories of him, albeit having pictures and videos of us together, added with Coach's accreditable words, he was perhaps a great Father, hence my abrasive thoughts was on why my mom would stoop to leaving him all by himself to cater for his tad.

I shoved off the thought. "He was a good Father".

"A very good one". He paused. "I could remember when your Father had the accident which results to him spending some days at the hospital before he departed, his main concern was perturbed that he will leave you all by yourself in this world, because he knew he wasn't making it to his feet again and I assured him I will be the Father figure you will loose". He patted my shoulder. "I was all alone because I lost my wife at the time and that was the greatest decision I've made Jamal".

Sporadically to how people loss loved ones in life, it was never people's decision or choices to wake up one day and loose the sight of people they cherish, voices that sound melodiously in their ears and never their choice to seize from feeling their touch and hearing their laughter but nonetheless it was never impeded but sometimes people are lucky enough to have other people that caress their cascaded tears howbeit the grief still lingers.

"Thank you". I whispered sniffing back the tears at the brim of my eyes.

He shook his head, "Don't thank me Jamal". We stayed for awhile all in thoughts, as I prayed for his soul. "I don't know if you will get to the NBA draft but that will be possible if you guys win the Redders. I know you've practiced more than enough for years but I don't know what happened in your previous match". He stated and stood up.

"I don't know either, so if we don't win again, will I be off the team?". I stood up beside him.

"If you don't try to kill anyone on the court, No". He shrugged.

"Then I'm certainly optimistic that we will win in the next match". I said quietly.

"Then we have more practice to do!". He exclaimed.

*****

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