Church was uneventful, but laid a foundation of faith and stability. The stability in that no matter what was going on in life, there was the same enthusiasm being expressed during each service. In the many childhood years I’d spend in countless services, the one thing I noticed was that the place itself was like a hospital. So many broken people with varying issues would come in and be welcomed by normal, everyday people. I recall hearing stories of drug addictions, prison stints and abuse overtaking these people. And everyone from the pastor to my mother would embrace them and offer a forgiving God who would provide comfort no matter what their transgressions were.
I didn’t get it and would ask my mother, “Why do these sick people come to our small and humbled store-front church for help?” She would say that no matter what size the place is or what ailment a person is carrying, there is only one God who would always make us whole after the world had broken us, chewed us up and spit us out. Of course at that age, I didn’t catch the revelation but the conviction behind her words always stuck with me.
One thing that had changed at that point in my life was my awareness of boys. Prior to this, all my focus would be on playing basketball for Seawood High School. O would watch me play while waiting for the boys’ games, where the real crowd showed. He would actually come early but his boys never knew why, he had later told me. For a while, I wouldn’t notice either because I went straight home after each game. Being shy and socially isolated, I never cared to stay and fraternize.
One night, when Seawood’s girls’ team played our most rivaled team, Maywest High, O was there glued to the game. It was the last .21 seconds of the fourth quarter, the scoreboard read 76-HOME to 77-GUEST. We had the ball. One of Maywest’s players pushed me as I went for a layup and was fouled. The coach just called for the last time-out. During his last pep speech, he piled the pressure on me. He told me that the next two shots that I was about to make would determine if my team would make it to the finals. Perspiration left trail marks down my face. I took a deep swallow and nodded in agreement. After our team chant, the players took their places on the court. From my peripheral I could see O was about to wet his pants. He later told me that he thought I was a good girl basketball player but didn’t do too well under pressure. I could see him move up on the bleacher and cringe. Next to him were his boys watching him in amazement. This behavior was totally inappropriate for a D-boy. At next glance, I saw they were ragging on him with taunts and laughter. None of which he heard. Everything was on that court.
I said a prayer, as I always did before a free throw, and arched my arms to make the shot. “Doosh!”
The small crowd went wild. O closed his eyes partly relieved.
“One more, baby girl! Just one more time!” he screamed through tunneled hands causing me to take a cursory glance in his direction.
I took a deep breath and swallowed. Angling my arms again, I closed my eyes and tossed the ball. “Doosh!”
I swear, I didn’t hear anything but I felt my teammates pick me up and carry me in the air. I opened my eyes, looked at the scoreboard and smiled. I did it! Coach ran towards me screaming with joy. We marched in a circle around the gym boasting our victory chant. We made our way down towards the entrance of the gym and on the high end of the bleachers, I noticed O.
He’s looking at me! I thought. He gave me a wink and a deep gaze. My heartbeat increased and I gushed internally.
After celebrating and changing in the locker room, I prepared to leave. I had a mid-term to prepare for the minute I got home. As I got ready to exit from the locker room my girlfriend, Keysha, asked me to go through the gym with her to look for her boyfriend. Hesitantly I did. I waited in the gym with Keysha for about twenty minutes. This gave me time to comb the room for O, but to no avail.
After Keysha was done cooing with her boyfriend, we took off.
The next day after taking a mid-term, I was picked up early from school by my mother. My menstrual cycle fell and I ran out of the Anaprox pills that my mom had given me until she refilled my birth control pills. I was still a virgin but was prescribed the pills to help with the unbearable cramps that Advil, Aleve, Tylenol, or Midol couldn’t assist with. I’d stayed in all day. I even missed practice that evening.