by H.H. Fowler
“Boy, you better recognize who’s in charge!” That voice belonged distinctively to nineteen-year-old Eric Paxton, who was celebrating an early shot in a fierce one-on-one basketball game against his younger brother.
“It’s like taking candy from a baby,” he teased Sean, knowing how much his brother despised it. He was in triple threat position –feet apart, slightly staggering. “Come, take me; let me see what you’ve got.”
“You’re a dimwit, you know that? Your big mouth gonna mess up your game,” Sean said.
Playing defense, Sean gave his undivided attention to every maneuver. He was two years younger than Eric, but he towered over him by a much heavily debated one inch, which he believed gave him bragging rights as a reputable contender.
Eric tried to fake a drive to the hoop but Sean showed a level of prudence and did not fall for it. It tickled Eric to see how determined his little brother was to beat him. It was just 8:30 in the morning, but beads of sweat had already begun to appear on the top of their clean-shaven heads – younger versions of their father.
“You think you ready for me, boy?” Eric knew his teasing would get Sean off-balance more than anything else, so he took it up another notch. “This is a man’s game. Let me teach you something about being a professional…”
“Do what you gonna do. You talking smack won’t move me.”
“Doesn’t matter; I’ll school you on how it’s done.”
Angling his position, this time Eric employed a convincing fake shot and, as he had anticipated, Sean leaped off the ground and into the air. Seizing the opportunity, Eric skillfully did a one-eighty around him, first to the left and then to the right, allowing the ball to spring from his hands. It connected with the backboard Leroy had installed for them when they were kids. It took a decisive spin on the rim before tipping into the basket.
Eric pumped his fist in the air. “Now that’s how it’s done, my boy! You had better recognize!”
Sean released one of those Paxton’s toothy grins. “You stole that from me!”
“Boy, you crazy. Get a life!” Eric took a break to answer his cell that had been incessantly buzzing in his pocket.
“Speak your mind, beautiful.” He knew it was their mother by the number on his Caller ID.
“My handsome boy.” Michelle still could not get used to that baritone in Eric’s voice. “You’re still home? What time do classes start?”
“You didn’t call to check up on me, did you? How’s New York?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Dad said you had to fly to New York.”
Michelle was dumbstruck. Leroy had lied to the boys. “Where is your father?”
“I don’t know. He’s not here.” Eric tossed the ball to Sean, who proceeded to do some lay-ups. “What’s going on with you two?”
Michelle felt comfortable sharing almost anything with her children. They had a better relationship with her than with Leroy. It was his fault anyway, she decided. He never stayed home. But one thing she didn’t practice was being untruthful. “Eric, I am not in New York. I am staying here at your grandmother’s.”
Eric looked away. He should have known their father had deceived them. It was his modus operandi.
“Eric, are you still there?”
“Yes, beautiful, I’m still here. When are you coming home?”
“I don’t know. Maybe another day or so.” Michelle felt crushed at her own words. “Can you handle that? I need time to clear my head.”
“We don’t need a supervisor.”
“I know – I just need to make sure.”
“I love you too, beautiful, do what you gatta’ do.”
Michelle smiled. Her sons were all grown up; they didn’t need her anymore. Her daughter, Tayah, who was married and had a life of her own, was the total opposite.
“I will call you guys tomorrow,” she said.
“You don’t have to.”
“I know, but I want to.”
Eric rolled his eyes. “Okay, look like I lost this one.”
Michelle laughed. “Bye, honey. Tell Sean that I love him.”
“Are you for real?”
“You are crazy, you know that? Bye, honey.” She cut the connection.
Eric waited a bit and then punched in some numbers on his cell. His classes at University of South Florida were officially cancelled. The voice on the other end appeared to have been expecting the call. She answered in a rather crisp tone, considering how early it was in the morning.
“The coast is clear. You wanna come over?” Eric was always the one to make the calls. “Make it quick, and bring someone with you.”
He ended the call and then yelled at Sean. “Make that your last shot. We have company coming over.”
Chapter Eight