“You’re a better man than you give yourself credit for.”
Tyler thinks about it, then nods slightly. “Okay. Listen, do you mind if we skip going back to the hotel for a little bit? I'd like to know more about these years that everyone keeps talking about today — since camp. How about giving me a little tour of the neighborhood?”
I'm not ready to go back to the hotel either, I need a chance to regain my composure. “Great idea. It's not far from here, only a couple of kilometers. We can go there, then get some dinner, and head back to the hotel.”
We drive downtown, then out to the north where I find my old house. It's been sold and a new family lives there now in order to pay for my parents' health bills, but that's okay. I was pretty much an outdoors girl until high school, and after pointing out the house, we drive down the block to the park that I hung out at the most. We park on the curbside and get out, looking around. “Well, this is perhaps the most important site in my childhood,” I say, waving. “I don't know how many hours I spent messing around on the jungle gym, and later on the blacktop playing basketball.”
“I didn't know that about you,” Tyler says, watching a couple of kids shooting hoops. “But the camp didn't have a basketball goal, if I remember right.”
“You haven't taken that many hits to the head,” I tease. “But yeah, I was a hoop hound for quite a few years. Actually, I remember you told me you use to play some ball too, right?”
“Basketball was never my sport. How about you? Still got it?” Tyler asks with a gleam in his eye.
“I don't know,” I reply honestly. “I haven't picked up a ball in years.”
Tyler nods, then looks to the kids playing ball. “Yo, guys!”
The kids stop playing and turn to us, curious.
“How much to rent your ball for ten minutes?” Tyler asks. “How about five bucks?”
The six boys confer silently, then turn back. “Five bucks each, and you sign Goose's backpack. It's his ball,” one of them says, obviously recognizing Tyler.
“Deal,” Tyler says, pulling out his wallet. “I trust you guys can divvy it up yourselves? I don't have six five dollar bills.”
The boys take the ten and twenty and nod, handing over the ball. “Yeah, no problem, we’ll be back with a pen for the sig.”
Tyler takes the ball and bounces it a few times, checking it out. “Deal.”
He turns and passes the ball to me, not with the amount of pep he puts on a football, but still with enough that I have to get my hands up quickly.
I dribble a little, getting the feeling back slowly, enjoying the hollow rubber sound of the bounce. It's been too long. I take a few shots, then toss Tyler an alley-up pass that he dunks.
“Whoa . . . nice dunk man!”
“Thanks. You guys get the pen?”
“Yeah, and my big brother wanted to come along too,” one of the boys said. I turned and my blood goes to ice as I see Thomas along with the boys. I thought that boy looked familiar. I hadn't been around his little brother much, they're really far apart in age, but Thomas . . . hasn't changed much in six years. A little more grizzled, but still the same basic face.
“Thomas . . .” I whisper, backing up fearfully. I bump into Tyler, who takes my shoulders and I utter a little scream.
“What's wrong?” he whispers. “Who’s that?”
“That's Thomas,” I whisper, my eyes full of fear. I glance back, and I can tell he's recognized me, too. “Please, let’s just go?”
Tyler studies my face for a moment, then nods. He looks up at the boys and holds up his hands. “Just a moment, guys. My lady's not feeling too well, so if y'all don't mind, I'll sign and we’ll take off, that cool?”
Goose, who has the backpack, nods and runs up. “Here. Thanks, man.”
Tyler takes the marker and the backpack and scribbles on the side quickly, with no personalization at all. “No problem. Thanks for the ball.”
“What, no hello?” Thomas asks as soon as Goose has his bag, sneering. “I knew you were stupid, but you were at least polite.”
“We don't need this shit,” Tyler whispers, capping the marker and handing it back to Goose, who's gone the color of milk. “Come on.”
Putting his arm around my shoulders, Tyler leads me away, but Thomas won't let it go. “Hey! You're not going to introduce me to your sugar daddy? Hi, I'm Thomas, the guy who taught her how to fuck, not that she's any good at it.”
Tyler stops, and I take his hand. “Don’t. Don't get into trouble.”
Tyler looks me in the eyes, and shakes his head. “No, it's not okay.”
He turns and walks back toward Thomas, a false grin on his face. Thomas is a bully, and isn't expecting anyone to stand up to him, but still he's obviously got his reputation to maintain in the neighborhood, so he doesn't quite back down yet. “You really want some, Yankee boy? I already got everything I wanted outta her.”