Page 65 of The Sweetest Return

I knew what I saw in her eyes when I said I had looked for her every year.

I knew that when she told me she had almost not come, some part of me wanted to thank God and curse time in the same breath.

The tux waited in the garment bag when I came out from the shower.

Black. Tailored right. White shirt. Black bow tie. Deep-purple pocket square because AWU would have found a way to haunt me if I showed up without school color somewhere. I fastened my watch last, the one Pops gave me after my final full season, back when none of us knew it would be my final full season.

For a moment, I looked at it and heard his voice.

You more than what they clap for, son.

I had not believed him then. I was starting to.

My phone buzzed on the dresser while I adjusted my cuffs.

Malcolm: You coming downstairs for drinks or you up there daydreaming about your girl?

I smiled.

Me: Hush, nigga.

His response came fast.

Malcolm: That award speech about to be terrible.

Me: Worry about Camille.

The dots appeared, disappeared, then appeared again.

Malcolm: Worry about your own woman.

I stared at that longer than I needed to.

Then typed the truth.

Me: Don’t have one.

He answered immediately.

Malcolm: Yet.

I laughed under my breath and put the phone away.

My own woman.

Too much.

Too soon.

Also not something my mind rejected quickly enough for me to trust myself.

I checked myself in the mirror once more.

I looked good. No reason to lie just because I was alone.

The man looking back at me was not the same boy AWU had crowned beside Imani years ago. Not the same running back people had once sworn would play until his body forgot how to quit. Not the same man who sat in meetings with Apex pretending he knew exactly what he wanted next.

I did not have every answer, and for once, that did not make me feel lost.