Beyond the Point(123)

Laura Klein sat behind her desk in the same black dress she’d worn every day since Dani had started working in her office. A clump of eyeliner had gathered in the corner of each of her eyes, making her look tired and unkempt. And for the first time since she’d made the decision to have this conversation, Dani felt guilty.

They’d never spoken about Dani’s extended absence. But as soon as Dani had returned, Laura had come to rely on her more and more to carry her professional weight whenever an unforeseen personal obstacle arose. In the divorce, Laura had received full custody of her children, and a week earlier, her older son had come down with the flu. The week before that, she’d had parent-teacher conferences. Dani didn’t mind holding down the fort in Laura’s absence—she certainly didn’t send any e-mails to HR about it. But now, the shock and awe on Laura’s face betrayed an insecurity that Dani had always assumed was there but never expected to see this clearly.

“You take two weeks off for your friend’s . . .”

“Funeral,” Dani reminded her.

“Funeral. And Webb still gave you another two weeks off for Christmas.” Laura Klein laughed nervously. “I mean really. What else do you want? If this is about the whole Gelhomme bonus . . . I don’t know what—”

“What bonus?”

“That’s not what this was about?” Laura continued. “I assumed Webb told you, seeing as you two are so . . . chummy.”

“Told me what?”

“The online Gelhomme ads worked so well, they increased their digital advertising budget by ten percent. So there was a bonus. A commission. I’ll split it with you, if that’s what this is about.”

“That’s not what this is about,” Dani said. In all honesty, she didn’t care. Money didn’t change the facts.

“Truly, I don’t understand,” her boss said again. She was beginning to sound like a plebe at West Point. “The sky is the limit for you here. You make more money than anyone at your level. We both know Webb is priming you to replace me someday. And you’re . . . you’re really good at your job. I don’t understand why you would walk away from all of that.”

It had been a long time since she’d heard Laura Klein’s voice fill with such sincerity. It was a nice sound, but it wasn’t going to change her mind.

“There are more important things than money. I might be good at advertising, but I could be good at a lot of things. I think I was made for this.”

Laura looked over Dani’s resignation letter, a single page that rested in front of her. “And you think you were made to be a . . . college basketball coach?”

“I don’t know for sure,” Dani answered honestly. “But I’m certain that if I never try, I’ll always wonder. And that’s enough for me.”

Laura shook her head and laughed. “Are you sure that hair dye didn’t go to your head?”

Dani touched her short hair, offering Laura a small grin. She liked her hair, just like she liked what she saw in her future.

“And, if you don’t mind me asking,” Laura continued, “what are you wearing?”

Dani looked down. She wore a tight athletic shirt, sweatpants, and Air Jordans on her feet. She hadn’t felt this comfortable in years.

“I’ve got a game in an hour. Which is why I can’t stay here and keep explaining my decision,” Dani said. “I just wanted you to hear it straight from me.”

“You know, we’re going to be sunk without you.”

“You’ll be all right,” Dani said as they shook hands. “You’ve got Pete and the crew. They’re all great.”

“Sometimes I think they hate me.” Laura sighed.

“Give them a break every now and then,” Dani said kindly. “We’re all just doing the best we can.”

With that, she turned and limped out the door, carrying a box of her belongings with her.

“Dani!” Laura shouted, one last time.

When Dani looked back, she noticed Laura’s eyes had softened. Even the wrinkles on her face seemed to smooth out as she offered a nod of respect and mutual understanding.

“Good luck,” Laura said. “And for what it’s worth, I believe you’ll be a very good coach.”

WHEN DANI GOT home, she walked to the basketball court in Notting Hill where she’d spent the last three weeks coaching the boys and reveling in the sound she loved most. She still felt discomfort in her joints. They groaned more than ever, really.

But pain comes for you, body and soul, whether you’re ready or not, Dani thought as she jogged onto the court. For some people, pain arrives in a phone call that shatters the once-perfect window through which you’d seen the world. For others, pain grows into a poisonous plant, buried so deep, the only way to uproot it is to dig it out slowly. For others—for people like Dani—pain was a constant companion, nagging and persistent. You could numb the pain. Bury it again. Ignore it forever. But you couldn’t get rid of it. That was a war that would never be won.

A basketball flew through the air from a child to Dani and back again. She smiled, taking her first step toward the basket. It hurt. But she chose to enjoy the ache.





40


Winter 2007 // Ali‘i Beach Park, Oahu, Hawaii