Every Soul

Parking out front, I take a shaky breath and hope this is something I can do. I’ve come this far. Walking inside, I see his salt-n-pepper hair right away, then his smile.

He stands as I approach and proceeds to hug me. “It’s good to see you, son.”

“Same to you, Coach,” I respond as he passes me his cell phone, showing me a text that reads, Do you think you can get me an interview with Adams?

“Who’s that from?” I ask as we both sit down.

“Yahoo Sports. An old friend of mine saw us talking at the game last night.”

I shake my head and place my face in my hands. This is unreal, absolutely unreal.

“Bain, I know you’re not feeling like your heart’s in it anymore, but I can’t let you turn your back on this. This is too big of an opportunity.”

“I know,” I respond staring into my lap, picking at the rough fabric of my jeans.

“Listen, I wanna manage you. I don’t want you to pay me or anything. I just want to see you succeed and ultimately watch you be happy, knowing I had a part in it.”

“But what if I don’t make it, or I’m not the same on the court anymore?”

“You will be. I know for a fact, son, raw talent of your degree doesn’t change. Yeah, you’ll be a little rusty, but a few weeks of workouts and you’ll be back to how you were.”

“If we do this, do I have to go back to school?”

“No,” he firmly replies. “You have enough credits to graduate. Guys join the NBA all the time after a few years of college.”

“How do you know so much about me?”

“You’ve always been my favorite kid. I’ve kept tabs on you over the years and after your sister passed, I made sure that you leaving school wouldn’t impact your degree. I’ve always known the NBA would want you, I just didn’t know they would project you to get drafted so high.”

“I can’t believe that’s what they are saying.”

“I know, but with Conner out, you’re it. Your time’s now, Bain.”

“Damn. Okay. I hear all that you’re saying, I really do. I do feel I wanna give it a try, but I need to see how I feel on the court.”

“I can get you into a few pick-up games.”

“Fuck no,” I blurt out, “Not if everyone has their eyes on me. Not yet anyways. Let’s get some practice in first, let me shake the rust off.”

“I was hoping you were going to say that. I talked to Damian Millani – you remember him, don’t you?”

My mind flashes back to the seven-foot-tall ex-NBA all-star himself. “How could I not remember him? He’s a legend.”

“He a very good friend of mine. He said if we’re interested he’s happy to let us use his private gym.”

Staring at James point blank, I simply ask him, “How did you set all this up? I mean, what if I would’ve said no?”

“I’m methodical, and I knew you wouldn’t let me down. Come on, let’s get going.”

“What about lunch?” I complain.

“That’s right, you do need to put some weight back on.”

James calls the waiter over and we both order burgers. Then spend far too much time reminiscing. Going back reminds me why I love the game so much, and James too. He really molded me into the player that I am today.





Driving back home after one hell of a day of practice, I can’t help the smile that’s on my face. It’s ear to ear and I’ve never felt better. Well, if it weren’t for the nagging background noise of my body starting to wear down from not having any pills. But my shooting from within the paint was ninety percent and my free throws were on fire. My phone rings and the screen shows it’s a private number.

“Hello,” I answer.

“Bain, sweetie, is everything okay?” my mother asks in a panicked tone.

“Yeah, of course mom, why?

“It’s your dad. I can’t get a hold of him.”

“Come on, Mom, you know how busy he is. I’m sure he’s been in meetings or something.”

“I don’t know, Bain. I have a bad feeling.”

“I’ll talk to him soon and tell him to answer next time you call whether he’s busy or not. I promise he’s been good. Just working a lot.”

“Okay, thank you, dear. I’m sorry to call in such a tizzy. It’s just…I…I can’t have anything happen to my guys.”

“It won’t. I promise we’re good. How have you been?”

“Good, really good. I’m starting to feel like myself. How ’bout you? What have you been up to?”

“Not much. I actually practiced some basketball today with Coach Lawrence.”

“Oh my God, honey, that’s great news. How was it? How did you get in touch with him?”

“I ran into him at a Knicks game the other night.”

“Really? Who did you go with?” she asks surprised. I know why her tone is the way it is. Although she was a drunk for the last six months, she knew I was in a slump and had pushed all of my friends away.

Should I tell her about Arion?

“Uhh, just a friend.”

“Bain…”

Her tone is long and drawn out, reminding me of the way she used to get when Kinsey and I would get in trouble.

“It’s just a girl, Mom.”

“Really, just a girl?

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