Wannabe More

by Billie Dale

  “I did. Think, Mazric. Let the walls down and stop blocking it.” Sam stands on the other side of the door.

  “Go. Talk to her. Now,” Pappy orders kicking my chair.

  She steps back, allowing me to join her. I take a long survey of the woman she’s become. Her face is still young and makeup free, but age lessened the roundness pronouncing her high cheekbones. Those large green eyes, once too big for her face, blend framed by curling black lashes. The unruly hair she shares with her daughter is tame and straight, worked to a slick sheen fastened at the back of her neck, with the tail hanging to her ass. Her body is curving and soft in all the right places. Round wide hips dipping in on her small waist, up to full big tits sitting lower than I remember, but real: nothing plastic, fake, or enhanced by surgeons. She’s the embodiment of my dream. No matter how hard I tried, I never found a more gorgeous woman inside and out than Samantha Gentry.

  “Why? Fuck, Sam, why would you keep this to yourself all these years? You say you told me but admit you knew I didn’t remember.”

  She nods her head. “That night on the phone you said you already knew. I bared my soul to you and the next day you pretended to forget—”

  “I DID!” I yell.

  “No, Mazric. You suppressed what you didn’t want to believe. We both made choices for the betterment of your future. Yes, I could’ve tried again, but then what? You walk away from college, miss out on the NBA? Come on, I did what we thought was best for both of us.”

  I ask where Hendrix fits in the puzzle. She responds how I never believed her lie and deep down she’s right. Her explanation rambles fast and breathless, but the more she says the more I remember how selfish I was. Her rambled confession bouncing from cell tower to my phone, ringing between my ears, activating my guilt, and drawing out the asshole decision I made to lock the truth in a box and leave it there. I blamed my absence at Double V on the hurt inflicted by the two people I trusted the most, but at the stinky center of my onion core—if you peel back the layers—you’ll see I stayed away to keep me blind. When this spur of the moment trip hit, my heart was so set on reconnecting with Sammy Lee I forgot about my locked box of secrets and shame.

  “You and he together now? Living the happy life?” I ask, each word tasting like ass on my tongue.

  “Roommates and friends.”

  “Seemed like more when I walked up on y’all on the porch.”

  “Did you miss the facepalm? The gagging revulsion? The pure ick factor?”

  “He strolls around in a towel, Sammy. Don’t you think it’s time we stop lying to each other?”

  “Full disclosure. We gave it a go. He carried a torch for me all these years, and he’s great with Mazzy, so I thought what the hell. We never made it past a kiss. An incestuous, gross feeling touching of lips. The scene on the porch was me reiterating that point and the towel proves we’re too comfortable living together.”

  The anvil sitting on my heart crumbles and a deep relief-filled breath leaves my lungs. “So you’re not seeing anyone?” I try to hide the edge of anxious from my tone, but the sly smile on her face says after all these years she still reads me like an open book.

  “Single mom dating is more akin to a root canal without novocaine,” she chortles a humorless laugh. “When’s the wedding?”

  My brow furrows. “To Meloni?” She nods. “Guess you haven’t checked the gab-mags lately. I called it off. She wasn’t the one.”

  An awkward silence splits the space between us. “So Mazzy Jae? She’s smart?” I ask.

  “And beyond. The stars the limit with Mazzy and even then, she’d push past to see more. But where I hid and cowered, she thrives. Nothing escapes her inquiries and no one is immune to her charm. Hell, she considers Asia DeMarco her best ‘adult’ friend. The best pieces of us came together and created an awesome kid. This whole test thing she did with a microscope and test tubes.”

  “Fuck, Sammy, what do I do here? She seemed nonchalant about the whole paternity thing. Look, I admit I suspected all those years back, but until right now I never believed it. Our phone call stayed in the dark part of my brain until a few moments ago. Does she even want me in her life?”

  “How about you ask her?” Mazzy calls from the bottom of the steps.

  “Mazilynn Jae Gentry, I told you to stay at home. Where’s Hendrix and Curry?” Sam asks.

  “Busy,” she answers, avoiding her mom’s glare.

  “Mazzy.” Sam’s sternness demands truth and I gotta admit it’s kinda hot.

  “I started playing Uncle Hendi’s PlayStation and to show me how to play, they took over. I can’t help it they didn’t notice me walk out the door.”

  “What game?”

  “NBA 2020.” She kicks her foot in the dirt.

  “You mean the one Curry James is on the cover of? You kick Hendrix’s ass whenever you play. I had to ban the damn thing to stop the arguing.”

  “Curry can’t resist a chance to play as himself. He makes the avatar do everything he can’t,” Mazric adds.

  “Huh, well.” Mazzy shrugs, blinking up at me from beneath her lashes. She’s a devilish tiny human who knew what and how to distract those two men. “To answer your question, I’d like to get to know you, then I’ll decide if I want you as a dad or not.” She jogs around the house returning with a basketball. “We can start by working on your shot.” She chest passes, hitting me between the pecs with the force of a full-grown man.

  Sam’s shifting from foot to foot but stays rooted, watching us walk side by side to the edge of the pasture. New concrete with painted lines changes the once half-court to full regulation. At each end expensive weighted baskets with thick plastic backboards rise toward the sky. A tall fence surrounds it; she leads to the gated door. A padlock keeps it closed, for which she produces a key from around her neck. Besides the long chain I see a worn leather string with a shiny black stone nestled in the center.

  She catches my stare. “It’s Mom’s wishing stone. She gave it to me on my last birthday. There’s no science in a wish, but she promised the stone helps dreams come true. Said an incredible person gave it to her when she was my age, and it took a while but it brought her the happiest time of her life.”

  “Have you tried it?”

  Her tiny shoulders shrug. “I wished for you and here you are. Guess it works,” she responds, and it’s a kick straight to my balls. I swallow around the lump in my throat, turning my attention to the new court. Dribbling the ball, she explains how the half-court wasn’t enough and she made a deal with Pappy Joe. If he built her a place to teach basketball, she promised to muck out the barn for a year. When the weather cooperates, she holds camps teaching others the science of the shot. She started three years ago, when Joe enrolled her in the same kiddie program I attended, except Mazzy took over, using my videos to school the poor volunteer dad who signed up to coach. When the next summer began, she talked a few of her classmates into giving her training program a shot and Mazzy J’s Game Changer was born.

  We shoot a game of Around the World where she criticizes and educates me on how off my footwork is, focusing on what’s changed since my injury. I offer fruitless arguments to test her knowledge until she drags me beyond the three-point line and demonstrates what I’m doing wrong, and how favoring my ankle screwed up my shot. Her numbers and equations surpass all my Vortex Variable videos. By the time the sun settles near the horizon, exercising her math finesses me back to the man who can’t miss. I offer to help send business her way by mentioning her camp in my videos. She declines with gratitude, informing me she’s already got a full roster.

  On the way back to the house she rambles a mile a minute, the same way Sammy Lee used to, running all her words together so fast I almost miss her telling me how much her mom loves being back in school. With Home Vittles no longer posing a challenge, Sam used her pre-med classes and applied to veterinarian school.

  I’d kick my ass if I could. Sammy and Mazzy have a life here and mine’s in Arkansas. It�
��d be better to leave them be. In my plight of grand gestures, I figured Sammy wouldn’t mind picking up and following me to give us a chance, but after seeing their home, it’s time I do what’s best for them. The many away games and living on the road can’t compare to all this. You can take the girl off the farm, but you can’t take the farm out of the girl.

  Fifty-Two

  SAMANTHA

  MAZRIC AND CURRY SPEND three days learning tricks from Mazzy. Watching an almost seven foot, two-hundred-fifty pound manchild take direction from a short eight-year-old is laughable. But he listens and follows every command. By the end of day three, his free throws hit nine out of ten.

  Since Mazzy Jae is homeschooled, once her work is finished, the rest of the hours until bedtime she’s glued to Mazric. Hendrix and Maz took a bro-walk and returned bloody but laughing. Carrie Lynn chewed a hole in both their asses for the immaturity. They restarted a tentative friendship, but then they were always at odds when we were young. Daddy harrumphed his way through a few dinners after Mazzy Jae pestered him until he accepted, but I could see his papa bear instincts itching to rear. He conceded his daily visits with Mazzy until Mazric left.

  I become an ostrich whenever the subject of his departure burrows in conversations. Burying my head and allowing sand to fill my ears guards my heart. At night, after we tuck MJ in bed, we sit next to the firepit through the wee hours, catching up on the last eight years. The first night we went through the videos and photos I put together. A chronological history of Mazilynn Jae Gentry from labor to present day. Memorex is no substitute for the real thing, but I documented every day of her life either on film or in writing.

  The second night we covered relationships. His many and my lack of. He fell off his chair laughing over Johnson, the panty thief. Curry helped distinguish fact and the fiction I’d read in the tabloids. They kept Maz’s exploits rated PG. Around midnight Asia and Hendrix pulled up chairs. Asia brought two bottles of wine and Hendrix provided more beer. Under the white light of the harvest moon we reminisced. The ring Mazric gave me spins under my thumb as the memories open the empty places in my soul, filling them with everything I gave up years ago.

  I lost count of the number of stars I gripped my necklace and wished on before I gave it to MJ. Secrets whispered to the man in the moon. Confessions and bargains made in the witching hour for Mazzy to know her dad, for me to bask in his love again; even if it’s only as a friend.

  He’s here. Kicked back, extending his long legs, dwarfing the wooden chair with his muscles. My wish come true, with the light of the fire dancing in his laughing eyes. A piece of hair dangles on his forehead and my fingers itch to feather it away. His dimpled smile and low boisterous voice slides down my body like warm honey. We stepped back into our friendship like a soft, worn pair of cowboy boots. I missed the comfort having him near brings more than I realized. He’s older, matured; sexy to the point of craving. The world watches his every move, chants his name, fills arenas to watch him play, but to my soul he’s just my Mazric. The man I gave my all for him to live a dream: the man I’ll watch leave again to continue it.

  Fifty-Three

  MAZRIC

  COFFEE IN HAND, I STARE across the pond. The sun crests where sky meets land, spraying the world in pink and amber, budding warmth as the rays dance on the water. A doe dips her head to drink in the distance; toads and crickets sing their early morning praise. Sammy’s back porch is a portal to a different world. A rural paradise where the real world doesn’t exist.

  “Deep thoughts.” Curry lowers himself on a wicker-cushioned sofa, his huge body leaving no room for anyone else. I hum affirmation using the rim of my mug as a silencer. “Vacation’s over. Coach says he needs our asses back to help corral the young guns.” My now cold coffee sours a path down my throat. “I see your wheels spinning, man, spill.”

  “I came here to win the girl.”

  “You did and you got hella more.”

  “I still want the girl. The entire situation is complicated. Sammy doesn’t know why I came home. It’s all convoluted and impossible. I’m in uncharted waters, sinking fast.”

  He stands; edging around me his towering body blocks my view. Arms crossed and imposing he looms. “I may be outta line, but Sammy Lee is not the girl next door you walked away from.” I open my mouth to object but he cuts me off. “She’s a single mom, and while her dating stories are a standup comedian’s dream skit, we both know the reason she’s still alone is because her heart belongs to a memory. That woman is smart, funny, gorgeous...”

  A tide of jealousy speeds my pulse. He sees my clenching fist. “Chill, dude, I’m telling you like it is,” he warns and I mimic his stiff stance. “Her life is tethered to you. Tugging and pulling until you returned, and I’ve never seen a woman look at a man the way she does you. But this—” He waves around. “Is their world. Pilfering booty from a woman who holds that much love and is a single mom requires a karmic sacrifice you are not ready to give. Don’t leave her holding on this time, Mazric, unless you can be the man she thinks you are.”

  The women, the called-off engagement, the cameras stuck in your face every second with Sammy Lee and Mazzy under the magnifying glass, scrutinized for everything from the way they dress to the air they breathe. My life would suffocate them, and while living here would be paradise for about a minute, I’m not ready to give up the game yet.

  “Hey, Mom said you’re leaving tonight.” Mazzy’s sleepy eyes stare at the floor.

  I wrap a hand around her shoulders, tell her to slip on her flip-flops, and with a nod to Curry I lead her out the door. She’s quiet, and if I’ve learned anything in the last few days, it’s Mazzy Jae Gentry is never not talking. Her hand fists the black stone lying on her chest and knowing despite her claims, she’s wishing, splits my heart down the middle.

  At the shore she searches, finding a handful of smooth stones. One by one she skips them across the pond. Her trajectory so spot on, I’m not sure they’ll sink before reaching land on the other side. I tell her the story of her necklace’s origin, how I made it for her mom.

  “Mom is excellent at skimming stones,” she rebukes. Laughing I shake my head, refusing to believe Sammy Lee got any better. We banter with her informing me how Sam taught her from this old book she keeps on a shelf in the living room. I concede, agreeing to believe it when I see it.

  She flops down on the grass, shoving her wild black curls away from her face. “What happens when you leave?”

  “Well, depending on how our season goes, I have a few months off a year.”

  “So you’ll come back? Spend it with us?” she asks.

  “I was wondering if you’d come stay with me? Even when we’re not competing, I have obligations, appearances. Got a room in my house ready for your renovations and we could check out all Little Rock offers.”

  “But the playoffs end in June, if you make it. Summer is my busiest clinic times and what about Mom? She’s got school and R&D with Home Vittles. We’re building the new barn and bringing in livestock.”

  She speaks faster with each reason she ticks off. “Whoa.” I settle beside her, hugging her to my side, running a calming hand down her arm.

  Her chest slows to an even pattern of breaths. “I can’t leave my mom.” Tears fill her eyes. “I’m all she has. Your town and home sound great, but she’s not there. I’ve got cars to fix with Grandpa Johnny, and every week Asia dresses me up and takes me for tea, showing Mom I’m a girl under all this tomboy, the little girl she never got to be.”

  She’s wise beyond her age the same way Sammy Lee was. I hate how she’s carrying it all on her back. “Does your mother know? Maybe a vacation from all this is what she’d want for you? A chance to be a kid?” I bite off the words, gritting my teeth against the anger climbing up my spine.

  “Look, Mazric.” Her chomp on my name cuts to the quick. “I’m eight years old and if I want, I’ll have my high school diploma in a matter of months. I can rebuild an engine in a half an ho
ur, if someone helps with the heavy lifting. I run a top-notch basketball clinic, a climbing in popularity YouTube channel, and my inbox is full of offers from genetic labs begging for a commitment and offering to pay for my college, all while designing a new computer program for Uncle Hendi’s composing. Factor in the three hours a week I spend playing with the dollhouse I hate, and the hair appointments I’ll never use, and being a kid is low on my list of priorities.”

  The determination in her eyes and matter-of-fact tone erases the young lilt of her words. She’s more astute than most adults. “But Sammy doesn’t want that life for you. The dresses, dolls, and forcing you outside to play proves it.”

  “I’ve known about you for a year, and yet I never reached out. She keeps a photo of the two of you as teenagers under her pillow, and I’ve seen how she looks at you. Yet when you leave later today, I’ll be the one still here. For all her brains, Mom’s common sense sucks. You might go back to the fancy girlfriends and gossip-worthy life, but she’s given up all her dreams and been the best mom a girl could want. She even hides her dislike for Asia because I like her. She doesn’t need anyone else in her life to disappoint her. One day I’ll spread my wings and perhaps my feet will land where you are. I didn’t contact you because I knew you’d bull in a china shop your way here, screwing up everyone’s emotions. Today is not the day you become selfless, but when it comes, we’ll be here and trust me, I know what’s better for my mom way more than you ever could.”

  She stomps back to the house, leaving me with my jaw open and mind spinning. From a cluster of trees, Sammy appears wearing a sagging set of sleep pants and hoodie I recognize as ones I left behind. Her plush lips narrow to white strips tightened under the bite of her teeth.

  “How much did you hear?” I ask.