Beyond the Point(91)

Her senior year, after the second surgery, Dani had planted herself on the sidelines, leaning on her crutches, forced into silence. Two plebes had quit midseason, and after they lost four games in a row, West Point’s athletic director had called Coach Jankovich into his office. Avery reported that she’d seen the coach walking in, wringing her hands. But when the season ended and Jankovich still hadn’t been fired, Dani, Hannah, and Avery had started scheming. They couldn’t leave West Point without telling someone the truth.

“You gotta pump a fake!” Dani shouted instinctively after one of the kids on the skins team threw up another blocked shot.

The game stopped. All ten kids turned to look at the woman behind the gate. The black kid put his hands on his hips and laughed, lighting up the court with his smile. He reminded Dani of Locke, all confidence and swagger.

“Oh yeah?” the kid shouted, his smart British accent calling out across the court. “Care to demonstrate?”

The boys all groaned, using the spontaneous break to grab water and wipe their faces on their oversized shirts. Taking the dare, Dani walked around the chain-link fence and dropped her shopping bag by the entrance.

“Oh rubbish!” one boy shouted, shocked. “She’s going to play!”

“What?” Dani laughed. “You don’t think I can hack it?”

“American! Go figure. Cheeky bastards,” someone shouted.

“Here.” The boy passed her the ball. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Dani bounced the ball a few times, just to appreciate the sensation. It had been nearly two years since she’d touched the leathery plastic of a basketball. The tiny bumps massaged her hand as it fell to the court and bounced back to her palm. Knowing she was showing off, but without a care, Dani picked up the ball and spun it on one finger.

“Okay, okay,” the kid answered. “But can you shoot?”

With that, Dani took off, dribbling first to the left and then to the right, unaware of the pain in her hip. Her opponent matched her steps, lifting his arms up and mimicking her every move. Dani took a step back to the three-point line and pretended to shoot. In that moment, the boy lurched up and toward her with one hand high in the sky, and as he landed on the ground, Dani took her shot, the ball soaring from her fingertips straight through the net.

Swoosh.

“OHHHHHH!”

“DAMN! SHE SCHOOLED YOU!”

Dani spent the next hour teaching them things she’d nearly forgotten she knew. A set of streetlights went on. The sun fell, spilling cans of purple and red paint across the sky. She lost all sense of time, just like a little kid. On the court, something changed in her, like a key had been placed into a lock. The boys looked at her to learn. There was no ego. No disdain that they were hearing from a woman. Just the honest hope that they would improve their game. Respect and gratitude appeared in their eyes. And it didn’t matter that Dani’s body ached.

Her soul soared.





23


Fall 2006 // Fort Bragg, North Carolina

The first Sunday in November, Noah left for a monthlong deployment to an unknown destination. Saturday, he’d packed his rucksack, thrown the rest of his gear into his car, and told Avery not to worry. Like usual, he’d kissed her goodbye in the middle of the night, and then he was gone.

In the morning, she found an empty water glass, an open jar of peanut butter, and a plate full of crumbs on the kitchen counter—remnants of Noah’s midnight snack. She put the peanut butter jar away, wiped the counters of the trail of ants that had invaded, and then stared out the kitchen window onto the street outside. Throughout the neighborhood, fathers with military haircuts were mowing their grass. Pairs of mothers pushed strollers down the road and waved with gloved hands. Yellow ribbons wrapped around trees where wives sat alone inside, wrangling children without the aid of their husbands. The Nesmiths’ house was all dark, with two blue-star flags hung side by side in the front window. At the beginning of October, Tim had arrived at Avery’s door with a spare key to their house and a zip-lock bag full of morning glory muffins.

“Since when did you become Betty Crocker?” Avery had said, receiving the bag from his hand.

“Just cleaning out the freezer,” he’d said. “Thought you might enjoy a snack. Microwave them in the morning, thirty seconds.”

“You all packed up?”

“Yep,” he’d said, rocking back on his heels. “Tomorrow.”

“You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

A moment passed between them, and Avery considered inviting him inside, but before she could, Tim clapped his hands together and smiled. “Guess that’s it.”

Avery reached for him and hugged him hard, if not for herself, then for Hannah.

“Geez, Adams,” Tim had said with a laugh. “It’s not like I have cancer.”

“Just be safe,” she’d replied.

“Will do.” He’d offered a small salute. “Hey. When Hannah gets back—watch out for her, all right? I think when she gets home, it’ll be harder than when she’s over there.”

“I will.” Even as she made the promise, Avery wondered if she could keep it, or if Hannah would care.

Then he’d walked back to his house, three doors down.