Bouncing

by Jaime Maddox

  Making the greatest of efforts so as to not embarrass her family, Brit managed to pay attention to the dinner conversation. She laughed when it seemed appropriate and posed thoughtful questions. An occasional nod indicated her interest in what the others around the table were discussing.

  After dessert was finished, Brit stood and, to the surprise of everyone in the room—including herself—announced her departure. She wasn’t totally sure she’d find the courage to defy her parents, but as the dinner wore on and she imagined Alex sitting across from her, her resolve was fortified. Dinner with Alex would have been perfect. It was exactly what she wanted. As she sat there understanding it was something she’d likely never have, Brit could no longer tolerate the disgust she felt at herself for lying, or for her homophobic family for putting her in a position where she had to.

  “You can’t leave, dear,” her mother insisted. “We have company.”

  “I’m so sorry about this,” Britain addressed the Thorntons, “but I’m having my first team meeting today. It’s mandatory. I forgot to tell Mom and Dad.”

  Whether any of them believed her, she wasn’t sure. Nor did she care. She only knew she needed to get out of her parents’ house before she started screaming at someone and making a fool of herself. After collecting her laundry, she was about to make a clean getaway when both of her parents cut her off.

  “You can’t leave without kissing me good-bye,” her dad teased her.

  Even though she knew he was in on the set-up, she suspected he was an unwilling participant in his wife’s caper. Brit couldn’t be mad at him. “Of course I can’t.”

  He pulled her into a big hug and kissed her cheek. “Drive carefully, honey. Call us when you get home.”

  “I’ll get Tommy’s cell phone number for you,” her mother offered. “He’ll be home for a few more weeks, and you two can get together.”

  “Okay, Mom,” she replied as she hugged her mother and kissed her cheek. At the moment, she had no more strength with which to argue. She’d save that battle for later.

  Once in the car, she began breathing to control her anger, deep breaths that made her dizzy after a few minutes. Then she thought of calling Alex. Maybe she’d like to meet early. Alex would be able to fix her foul mood by simply being there.

  “Hey, Brit,” Alex said.

  “Hey, yourself. I got out of dinner early. Any chance you’d like to meet now?”

  “Kim just left, and I was just about to shoot some hoops. Care to join me?”

  Brit thought of all the times she’d taken a ball in her hands and felt the weight of the world lift from her shoulders. The concentration she needed on the court allowed no other thoughts but basketball, and by the time she finished her game or her practice, Brit would find herself feeling a million times better than when she started. Basketball therapy was exactly what she needed.

  They agreed to meet at the park, and after stopping at her apartment to change clothes, Brit headed directly there. The calendar indicated that fall had officially arrived, but no one had informed Mother Nature. The sky was clear and blue and the temperature in the mid-seventies as she pulled into the park. On this sunny Sunday afternoon, parking spots were as hard to find as they’d been on her previous visit. Fortunately, a family in a minivan was leaving, and Brit maneuvered her car into a generous-sized parking spot they’d vacated. Bouncing her ball, she walked toward the courts where she’d played with Kelsey before she learned she’d be coaching her.

  Alex was on the closest one, looking quite the player in a jersey, long shorts, high socks, and high-top sneakers. She was practicing foul shots. “Hey,” Brit said as she shot a jumper from the wing. Alex paused for a moment, but when it became evident that Brit was more interested in shooting the ball than conversing with her, she resumed playing as well.

  After twenty minutes of silence, each of them shooting independently, Alex finally spoke. “Are you up for some one-on-one?”

  Brit had already thought about whether she wanted to play head-to-head against Alex. Alex was taller and had been a big college star. Brit knew her skills, and she knew she could play the game, but she didn’t want to embarrass herself by challenging someone with more natural ability. She suspected a game might be a one-sided fiasco. In the end, though, it didn’t matter. She just wanted to play basketball and forget what had happened at her parents’ house.

  After establishing the rules, she headed toward the half-court line to inbound the ball. Alex had granted her first possession. She tossed the ball to Alex, who stood about five feet away and tapped it right back. Game on. Brit started toward the right side as she glided toward the key. Alex maintained her distance, guarding against a drive to the hoop. When she reached the three-point line, Brit stopped, jumped, and fired an uncontested shot. It rattled around the rim before dropping through the net. Her eyes found Alex’s. “Three-nothing,” she announced with a smile.

  Alex didn’t respond. Instead, she took the ball out of bounds and tossed it back to Brit. Brit didn’t allow Alex the breathing room she’d been granted, and that was her first mistake of the game. Alex dribbled to the right and with lightning speed shot past her and took the ball to the basket for an easy layup. “Three-two,” Alex said as she caught her own rebound and politely handed the ball back to Brit.

  The first three-pointer hadn’t scared Alex a bit. She allowed Brit the same clearance as she had on her first possession, and again, Brit drilled a three-pointer. “Six-two.”

  Brit had learned from her first embarrassing defensive show. This time she gave Alex some room and tracked her as she dribbled toward the right, spun, and tried to break to the basket. When she couldn’t shake Britain she pulled up and shot a jumper that rattled around and fell through the net for two points. “Six-four.”

  Brit couldn’t believe that Alex still didn’t guard her behind the three-point line, but she again found herself alone out there. Of course, she took the shot, and again it went in. “Nine-four.”

  “Can you shoot from anywhere else?” Alex asked, her tone sarcastic.

  “Not unless I have to.”

  Alex started to the left this time, drew Brit across the key, then fired from just inside the foul line. The ball hit off the back of the rim and popped out of the cylinder.

  “Hey, Alex,” Brit said as she stood dribbling the ball. “How many letters are in the alphabet?”

  Alex smirked. “Twenty-six. Why?”

  “Not in your alphabet. You have no D.” Then Brit exploded left.

  Down five with the chance to go even further in the hole, and perhaps challenged by Brit’s teasing, Alex began to showcase her talents. She guarded Brit closely, forcing her to back off and shoot an off-balance jumper that bounced weakly off the front of the rim. On her own possession, she copied Brit’s game plan and knocked down a three. After another stop and another basket, the game was tied.

  They played for an hour, with the lead changing hands on nearly every possession, until finally Brit made a three that Alex couldn’t counter and declared herself the winner. Both were drenched in sweat as they walked on wobbly legs to the courtside bench to cool down. Toasting with energy drinks from a vending machine, they touched their bottles, saluting the great effort they’d put forth. “I can’t believe you didn’t play DI hoops, Brit. You’re better than half the girls I played against.”

  “I was a late bloomer. Small in high school. But I grew three inches when I got to college, and I worked hard on my game. I did okay.”

  “I’ll say.”

  They sat in silence for a few minutes before Brit spoke. “Thank you for the game, Alex. I needed it.”

  “Bad day?”

  “Awful.”

  Alex turned toward her, pulling a long leg up on the bench. “What happened?”

  Brit took a deep breath as she debated telling Alex. It wasn’t that she didn’t feel comfortable enough to talk to her—in fact, quite the opposite. She just didn’t know if she wanted to get into it again. She w
as feeling relaxed and didn’t need to remind herself of how awful her family dinner had been. Yet, she wanted to share this with Alex, just as she wanted to share everything with her.

  The look of concern on Alex’s face convinced her. “They tried to fix me up with a guy. They invited him to dinner.”

  “What?” Alex reached out a comforting hand to Brit’s knee—the closest body part—and looked at her with an expression of disbelief.

  “Yep. My sister told me my parents want to marry me off so they can die in peace.”

  “Hmm. That’s gotta be awkward. Why don’t you just tell them you’re not into guys?”

  Brit sniggered and shook her head. “I have the most religious parents on the planet. My father’s a Eucharistic minister. My mother hasn’t missed mass in fifty years. I have aunts and uncles who are priests and nuns. They’re not going to handle this well.”

  “So what do you do, then? Lie to them?”

  She shook her head. “Not really. I just don’t talk about it.”

  “So no dates for holidays? You and your girlfriend go your separate ways?” Alex sounded flabbergasted.

  Sighing in frustration, Brit looked into Alex’s big blue eyes and frowned. “I’ve never cared about anyone enough to bring them home. So I’ve never had a reason to come out to my family.”

  Alex squeezed Brit’s hand and held it. “I think you do now, my friend.”

  Brit looked at her, her heart beating faster. For a moment she thought Alex was insinuating there might be a future between them—a reason to tell her parents.

  “They won’t stop until they understand why they have to.” Alex’s expression was sympathetic, and Brit realized she wasn’t hinting at anything.

  “Why can’t they just mind their own business?” She pulled her hand away and instantly felt cold where Alex had heated her.

  “They don’t understand that there’s a problem. Only you do.”

  “You sound so sure of everything, Alex.” Brit looked at her, needing some reassurance. Suddenly, her world and her life seemed to be a big, scary place. Her thoughts and emotions were in constant flux, and she just needed some sense of calm.

  “Not about everything, but about this I am.” Alex looked sad, and Brit wondered why. Alex seemed so cocky and confident that Brit couldn’t imagine what would cause her insecurity. She couldn’t ask the question, though. A wall seemed to go up, and Alex leaned back, her body language telling Brit she wasn’t open to probing.

  “So I take it you’re out to your family?” she asked, hoping this was a safe topic.

  “Oh, yeah.”

  Brit laughed. Her tone told her the outing had been eventful. “Do tell.”

  “I was caught in a rather intimate position with my high-school girlfriend. My mother walked in on us.”

  Brit brought both hands to her face. “Oh, no! What did you do?”

  “Well, fortunately, my mother handled it well. She told her it was time to go home, and then she told me she didn’t allow my brother to have his girlfriend in his room and the same rules applied to me.”

  “Wow! That’s all I can say.”

  “Yeah, me, too.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Seventeen.”

  “Does your dad know?”

  “Yep. No secrets in my family. My brother figured it out even before my mother.”

  Brit smiled. “It must be nice having that kind of unconditional love.”

  Again, Alex squeezed her, this time on the upper arm, a ticklish spot above her elbow. Yet she didn’t feel like laughing.

  “I know we haven’t known each other very long, Brit, but I feel like I know you well. And everything I know about you, I like. I wish I could tell you that your family will give you the same kind of understanding mine gives me. But I can’t. I’ve seen parents disown their kids. It’s unbelievable, but it happens. I hope it doesn’t happen to you, but if it does, you’ll be okay. Because you’re going to find some amazing woman who knocks your socks off, and then nothing else will matter.”

  Brit smiled, though she wasn’t sure if she should. She supposed Alex’s words were meant to reassure her, but the fear of her family’s disapproval was all too real. She couldn’t imagine a love grand enough to compensate for the loss of all the people who mattered so much to her. Maybe she should just stay single forever. She’d become an old maid, babysit her nephews on Saturday nights instead of dating, and spend every Sunday with her parents. Then she’d never have to reveal this secret.

  *

  Brit’s apartment seemed lonely compared to the park, and she couldn’t help feeling anxious. Needing a distraction, and some comfort, too, she turned on the oven and pulled a large mixing bowl from her cabinet. Using a large knife she sliced a block of butter and threw it into her microwave to soften. Crack, crack, crack. The eggshells split neatly and she separated their contents, saving the whites. With a whisk, she blended the butter and yolks with sugar and vanilla until the mixture was smooth, then began to fold in flour. She felt the tension leaving her body as the dough flowed through her fingers, growing heavier with each scoop of flour she added.

  What a day! She didn’t know what stressed her more—the pain her family caused her or the ease with which Alex seemed to handle it. Alex being so perfect was not good. She was a colleague, and a friend. Nothing more. Why had she called Alex in the first place? With so many friends to choose from, one of them was likely to have answered the cell phone if she called to complain about her mother’s antics. Meg, her former roommate, was always eager to talk and would have provided a sympathetic ear. There were half a dozen others, too.

  Instead, her first instinct had been to call Alex Dalton, and spending time with Alex had been exactly what she needed. As always, dribbling a basketball had taken her mind off her troubles. Even the conversation after their game, which was unsettling, had been something Brit needed to hear. Someone else telling her that the discussion with her parents was overdue made it more difficult for her to deny it, and like it or not, she needed to do it.

  What had her upset now, pounding her fists into a ball of cookie dough, was her simple desire to call Alex. The instinct to call Alex. And the fact that calling Alex, the woman who had flings instead of meaningful relationships, had turned out to be the absolute correct call.

  She sectioned the dough, taking a half-cup-sized scoop and putting it directly into the ice chest in the freezer. After washing her hands, she put her headset in her ear and dialed Meg’s number. She needed to hear Meg’s voice and ground herself. She needed to spill the mass of confusion and let Meg help her sort it out. Meg had been her best friend all through college, the first one she’d gotten drunk with, and the first one she’d come out to. She was a source of good advice and a soft shoulder. Meg would help her. She always did.

  Meg answered after a few rings, her voice a breathless sigh. “I had to run in from the garage to catch the phone, but since I knew it was you I figured it was worth the heart attack. What’s up, stranger?”

  Since meeting Alex and dealing with all the feelings that had blossomed, Brit had been more reserved than usual, not reaching out to her friends. With all the anxiety she was carrying, she did indeed feel like a stranger to her best friend.

  “Not too much, getting in the groove of working every day. It’s sort of exhausting.”

  “At least you’ll never have a tax season.”

  “Ah, but soon I’ll have a basketball season.”

  “Then you’ll know exhaustion.”

  “So how are the wedding plans going?” Brit poured some walnuts into her blender. “Hold that thought, I have to chop for a second.” Rrrrrrrrrrggghhhh.

  After thirty seconds, the noise stopped.

  “What are you baking?” Meg asked.

  “Gramma Cookies.” She scooped the finely chopped walnuts from the bottom of the blender.

  “Oh, no. What’s wrong?”

  “I called to talk about your wedding, not my troubles.”


  “If you’re baking Gramma Cookies—your ultimate comfort food—you must be stressing. So give it up, Dodge, or I’ll hop in the car and come eat all your treats.”

  Brit sighed. “My parents invited the Thorntons to dinner today. They tried to fix me up with Tommy.” Her voice was soft, full of sadness and despair. Sitting at the table now, Brit further divided the dough into sections and began wrapping them for freezing.

  “Oh, yuck! Is he still a jerk?”

  “Yes, but close to being Dr. Jerk, which is very important to my mother.”

  “So what did you do?”

  Brit finished the dough while she told the story, then retrieved the frozen section and began rolling small balls from that allotment.

  “Do you think this is my fault? I mean, is she pushing you to get married because I am?”

  Brit had enough dough to create seven little balls, which would become an equal number of mouth-watering cookies. Into the bowl of egg whites they all went, and then she rolled them into the crushed walnuts. “Oh, I don’t know. When we were in Bethany, the subject of your wedding only came up about a thousand times. So I wouldn’t say she’s obsessed with it or anything.”

  “Sorry, Brit. Your mother’s just a…bit pushy, I guess. And I wish I could say that telling the truth would take the pressure off you, but I’m not sure it would.”

  “It might even make things worse, you know? Excommunication from both church and family.”

  “You’d still have me, babe.”

  Brit used her forearm to push back her hair and smiled gratefully. “And I’m lucky. Don’t leave me, or I’ll be all alone.”

  “What are you doing to change that? Any prospects for the title of Mrs. Right?”

  The cookies were going into the oven, neatly spaced on her grandmother’s cookie sheet. “Yeah, there is. Maybe.” She spoke softly, hesitantly. She’d hardly acknowledged her attraction to Alex to herself, yet here she was telling Meg.

  “Ohhh! Yeah!” Meg squealed with delight. “Tell me, tell me! Who is she?”