Page 59 of On Merit Alone

Chapter Thirty-Two

Merit

Life had the funny tendency of spitting in my face.

Most monumentally in the form of killing my entire family and leaving me to fend for myself for years.

But most recently in the instance of making me put my trust into someone with no doubt whatsoever that it might be betrayed—and getting that thrown back into my face.

The worst part about it all was that I should have known. I should have known not to get my hopes up. I should have known not to expect quite so much. I should have known that all those feelings that seemed too good to be true—especially the one that started with the letter ‘L’ —were.

But no. I didn’t listen to the pestering feeling in the back of my mind. I pushed it away, mistaking it for pessimism and not seeing it for what it truly was. The truth.

Instead of protecting myself from the truth that Ira could never actually feel the same way about me that I suspected I felt about him, I let myself believe that he did. I let myself believe that he would show up for me. That he cared.

And he showed me that he didn’t .

Denver versus New York. The rivalry game I’d been looking forward to for almost as long as the season had been going on. One that would set the tone for the rest of the season and quite possibly the rest of my career.

All week I had this nervous excited energy that I couldn’t shake.

I was practicing extra, holing up to watch film, and doing everything I could to get myself into the zone.

I actually thought I was thinking about it too much.

Psyching myself out before the game even began.

But it was too late to worry about that.

All I knew was, by the time tip off came around, I would be ready.

Never mind the nasty scowls and razor sharp looks from our opponents across the court.

Never mind the bigger than usual crowd of away team viewers who had shown up and taken to heckling the Mites with mean words and empty threats.

Never mind the wavering strength of my performance so far this season as I struggled to come back into myself.

Never mind it all. This game was a challenge to myself, to all of us, that even though we’d been down we were never out.

I’d been proving the same to myself and to the world my whole life.

Hardships aside, injuries aside, bullshit reputations aside; I was ready to resurface on the other side of this trial, triumphant.

I played like it was my last game in this arena. Like it was my last time in a jersey, period. I did everything I came there to do. I did more, and it paid off. We won. It wasn’t even neck and neck. We won because we crushed them and that almost felt better.

And Ira didn’t come.

I remember checking as soon as the game was about to begin to see if he was anywhere in eyesight.

He was usually around the same spot, close enough to the court that I could see him, but sometimes a couple of rows back if it was extra crowded so he could blend in more.

But tonight, he just wasn’t there. I didn’t have time to dwell on it, though, and quickly tuned my focus into the game, assuming that he would show up soon .

When I checked again at half time he still wasn’t there.

Not when I had a string of bad plays and another of outrageous fouls either.

Usually he was right with me to grumble at bad calls and to gesture for me to calm the hell down when I was getting too worked up.

He’d come to every game he could since that first one, and I guess I’d gotten used to him being there.

Used to looking over and knowing he would be sitting there rooting for me.

I guess I’d gotten too comfortable, because the feeling of disappointment that coated every part of my body after not having him there when I thought he was going to be, was not one I liked.

The feeling that I was stupid, after the entire game passed and his usual spots never filled up, was even greater.

I even snuck off to check his locker room, where he usually called me after the game thinking maybe he decided to watch from the box since it was so crowded. It was locked.

After we won, it was like the world sped up.

Like everything around us was pumping like an incredible heartbeat that wouldn’t stop drumming.

The moment I realized Ira didn’t show at all, it was like the opposite.

My excited teammates felt like slow motion figures around me.

The sounds of the world sounding muffled and slow, and this feeling thick and hard and sinking to the bottom of my belly.

I tried to be happy alongside them. I was happy—I knew I was. I was just also so disappointed.

So much so that I didn’t know what to do with myself.

Instead of doing what I usually did when I got home, like watch movies (because Ira had told me I was not to watch family videos alone anymore) or play with Cash or talk to Grandma and Grandpa on the wall—I pulled out my phone and searched things I never searched for.

An inkling of where Ira might have been tonight.

He was always in some type of media, but never for anything scandalous. Mainly, it was from social media tags of fans who happened to see him out and snapped a photo or were brave enough to actually ask him for one together (he always said yes).

I half expected not to find anything when I went searching for a clue of where he might’ve been. I should just text him. Or better yet call him because I missed his voice. But something was stopping me from doing that too. Something that felt a lot like dread.

How could I both want and not want to hear his voice? The confusion of it all made me want to cry. But I would not be doing that. What if he was sick? Or if someone in his family had gotten hurt? If it was something like that, I would understand. I would’ve, but it turned out I didn’t have to.

Not if the picture posted by MarkBenford96 at around 8:06 PM didn’t clearly show Ira at some dinner table in the middle of some restaurant. With some woman.

I would not cry. I would not cry. I would not cry.

And I would not answer the text I just got from the man in question asking a casual, “What’s up?”

I was going to bed. Because that was the only way to be sure I wouldn’t break down right then and there.

The knock on my door was loud and strong, and maybe a little urgent. That’s how I knew it was Ira and not the pizza delivery person with the food I had just ordered.

I opened the door but didn’t look at his face as I immediately turned around and moved back into my apartment. I heard the normal sounds of him walking in, greeting Cash, and sauntering in after me.

He didn’t take off his shoes. I guess he wasn’t staying long. Figured.

“Merit?” I caught myself glaring at his feet as he called for my attention. Upon hearing my name I redirected the stare to his face. His eyebrows pulled together immediately. “You stood me up?”

“Stood you up?” I asked, my voice sounding weird. That hard knot of anger and disappointment had never left my throat from the day before. We’d had an entirely new game, winning that one too, and still the tight ball remained.

“Yeah,” he said slowly. “In the locker room. You always come to see me after your games, but you didn’t. I waited for you.”

“Oh,” I said, as casually as I could. I moved away from him, heading over to the fridge to grab a bottle of water.

I needed to move this ball of frustration somewhere.

It didn’t budge though as I gulped the cool liquid.

“I didn’t think that was happening, since it’s not like an every time thing, right? ”

He looked at me confused. “Yeah it is an ‘every time’ thing, Merit. I thought I made it clear that I wanted to see you.”

I swallowed, my emotions already beginning to betray me as I remembered the other night and how the excitement and hope and happiness I had been ready to share with him just died at the edge of the court, when he didn’t show up for me.

I took a breath, looking away from him. “You didn’t make it clear.”

He looked at me for a second. I could feel his eyes on me as he surveyed my person. Then he took a step in my direction. I wrapped my arms around myself. “I’m not following, Six. Can you please just?—”

“What’d you do yesterday?” I asked, suddenly wondering if he would tell me. If he even saw anything that I was so upset about as something wrong. “Anything fun?”

“Just hung out. Had dinner with a friend—Is this some kind of a test? Because I’m not hiding anything, Mer,” he said, sounding perplexed.

“It’s a question,” I said evenly. “I was just wondering because I didn’t see or hear from you before my game… and I know what you were doing after it, so.”

Ira’s eyebrows scrunched together, and he looked down at his watch. He darted his eyes over to the fridge where a team calendar with my schedule hung. They darted right back to me.

He took a step. “Oh shit, Six—New York.”

I didn’t say anything, just wrapping my arms around myself tighter, trying desperately to hold in the emotion clawing its way free.

Ira took another couple steps toward me, and I held my hand up to stop him.

I couldn’t have him in my space right now.

I wanted him, don’t get me wrong, but if he got close he would be sweet and convincing and I wouldn’t be able to think straight.

I mean, that’s how we got here in the first place, wasn’t it?

I’d fallen for his sweet words and soft touches, and I’d lost sight of what reality looked like.

I needed to get it back.

In front of me, Ira swallowed hard. “Say something, Six.”

“Was it important?” I asked, and damn, I hated that I asked it. But I wanted to know.

“What?”

Against my better judgment, I looked at him. My eyes were pleading, and I didn’t understand why I wanted him to explain this away, but something in me did. I wanted to have this all wrong, like I did when I thought his sister might be someone else.