Chapter 2 - Eleven Nights Away
I didn't ask Ethan what Marcus had said.
Not because I didn't want to.
Because the arena horn sounded and five officials were already waiting at midcourt.
My job had spent fourteen years teaching me that everything could wait twelve more minutes.
Pain.
Birthdays.
Arguments.
Fear.
Apparently that included my son.
I hated the thought before the ball ever went up.
Ethan did not return to the courtside seat.
I saw Ms. Patel take him toward the family lounge.
Good.
I didn't want the security officer near him again.
I also didn't want twenty thousand people watching us have a family conversation three feet from the scorer's table.
The opening quarter was terrible.
I missed my first three shots.
Turned the ball over twice.
Coach Rivera called timeout after I threw a pass directly into the first row.
He stepped close.
“You with us?”
“Yes.”
“That was not a yes pass.”
“I’m fine.”
He stared at me.
We had known each other too long.
“Is Ethan okay?”
I looked toward the tunnel.
“Yes.”
“Then play.”
I did.
Muscle memory can carry a man through a lot.
By halftime I had sixteen points and no idea what half the crowd sounded like.
My phone was waiting in my locker.
One message from Nora.
IS HE WITH YOU?
I typed:
Yes.
Then deleted it.
Too little.
I wrote:
He's safe. There was a problem with security. He's with Ms. Patel. I'm coming home after the game.
Three dots appeared.
Disappeared.
Appeared again.
Her answer came.
Okay.
Eleven years married, and the most dangerous word in our house had become okay.
Marcus had also texted.
He always knew when I was distracted.
Probably because he watched every game from somewhere comfortable and expensive.
His message read:
Saw the courtside mess. Need me to handle it?
I stared at it.
Then typed:
Did you talk to Ethan?
The reply came almost immediately.
About what?
I called.
He answered on the first ring.
“You're at halftime.”
“Did you talk to my son?”
Pause.
Marcus knew better than to make silence obvious.
He made it one second.
“Yeah. Last week.”
“What about?”
“We'll talk after the game.”
“No.”
“Caleb.”
“What did you say to him?”
“Nothing he shouldn't already know.”
My hand tightened around the phone.
“That sentence is why I'm asking.”
A teammate came through the locker-room door.
I turned away.
Marcus lowered his voice.
“Your family's in the middle of a major decision. Ethan isn't six.”
“He's twelve.”
“He's aware you're discussing a move.”
My stomach tightened.
“Nora told him?”
“Kids hear things.”
“What did you tell him?”
Marcus exhaled.
“That his opinion matters.”
“About what?”
“Where you play next.”
I said nothing.
Because three weeks earlier, after the worst fight Nora and I had had in years, I had called Marcus from my car.
I told him to see what was out there.
Not request a trade.
Not promise anything.
See.
What.
Was.
Out.
There.
Since then, he had brought me possibilities.
Los Angeles.
Miami.
A team outside New York.
And every time Nora asked whether something was happening, I told her the front office was exploring options.
That wasn't exactly false.
It also wasn't exactly what had started it.
Marcus said:
“You can't keep pretending Ethan isn't affected.”
“I'm not pretending.”
“You've been sleeping at the Mercer Hotel for eleven days.”
I stared at the locker.
“How do you know where I'm sleeping?”
“Because I book your travel, Caleb.”
“Not my marriage.”
He went quiet.
Then:
“Finish the game.”
I almost laughed.
“You don't get to say that now.”
“Fine. Come see me afterward.”
“No. I'm going home.”
Another pause.
When Marcus spoke again, the tone had changed.
Careful.
“Did Nora send something with Ethan?”
I looked at the sealed envelope lying beside my shoes.
“How would you know that?”
He didn't answer fast enough.
“Marcus.”
“Caleb, don't let one emotional night blow up a decision we've spent weeks building.”
“We?”
“You asked me to find you a way out.”
The locker-room horn sounded.
Players started moving toward the door.
I stood very still.
“Out of what?”
Marcus didn't answer.
I ended the call.
When I returned to the court, I looked toward the family lounge entrance.
Ethan stood behind the glass.
Watching me.
The envelope stayed sealed in my locker.
May you like
For the first time, I wondered whether Nora's condition wasn't about making me choose home over basketball.
Maybe she wanted me inside our house before I learned what someone had been saying in my name.
