“Not to eat. I had breakfast a couple of hours ago when I woke up.”
A few minutes later and as I was inhaling my food, Zoey sat across from me. She gave a few minutes of quiet to allow me to indulge. Even though I knew a string of questions would come, there was still some peace—and anticipation—about them coming from Zoey. There was no one better suited to catch what I felt I needed to release. Fuck it. I decided not to wait for her to initiate it.
“Remember a few years ago when I told you people fall in love with the image…the perception and can really give a damn about the process?
“Oh, yeah.” She rolled her eyes and waved her hand dismissively. “The ‘woe is me’ mantra. Yes.”
“No. Seriously, Zo. People fall in love with what they believe to be you, but never consider the process you underwent or continue to undergo. It’s like with marriage: people see the love and the chemistry on the red carpet, but never consider the sacrifices the couple has to commit to in order to guard their marriage…keeping people out of their business, never talking to the media, not hanging out in certain spots. Those are the sacrifices that are being made, but aren’t recorded by the media. That’s the process.
“And even me. They may see the tattoos…they may have even heard some of the wild shit I’ve done, like bad relationships or being temperamental, but they don’t understand the process I went through to get there. The shit I had to endure growing up, or why I was just angry all the time. Now when they see me ball, and they see the scores, and they see me taking my team to the championship, they don’t see the process behind my ability to zone in and tune everybody out. They don’t know when I was a kid, for many years, I played at a local abandoned park. It had only a ring and no net, and in order for me to block out the ruckus of my mom and pops over on the bench with their get-high buddies just a few feet away, arguing over who gets the next hit, I challenged myself with making the basket from different angles. It wasn’t a concept that was encouraged, it was the simple act of trying to keep my sanity. Then it became an obsession.
“They don’t understand the process it took to make this greatness I display to entertain them. Again, people fall in love with the image…or judge it, but never consider the process.” I was finally able to glimpse up at Zoey to catch her contemplative gaze. Zoey always listened. I missed having a friend in her. I couldn’t stop sharing.
“I just feel like with what happened with Quincy the other day, it just makes more sense now. People really are more concerned with the perception rather than the process. I feel like I had a parting moment with him…when all things became clear.” I shrugged. “I don’t know if he shared those feelings with anyone else or if he had theorized it himself for the first time in that moment, but I feel like he surmised his life and mistakes with me in a few sentences and then he…died.”
“Well, how so?”
“He told me how much he loved his son, wronged his wife, and had been a shitty father to his daughter. It just makes my theory that much more valid. People only see the outward shell, the accolades, fame…but they don’t see the sacrifices that went into making you who you are and… I just don’t want to be that person anymore. I don’t want that for me. And I don’t want that for JR. I want every moment in my life to count to those who really know me and love me. I want to share with my son what made me great. I want him to know my process to appreciate my journey.”