HOOPS AND HEARTS

Chapter 22

                                    Astrid

I find myself thankful for Leo's lack of memory.  I deem all of it a mistake, and convince myself to forget everything. Just as he did. The feelings he stirred inside of me prove hard to erase from my memory. My heavy breaths and gasp echoing in my head from that night. I slap my forehead, willing my thoughts to disappear. Im sitting in the bleachers, the same spot i've always occupied. As I divert my attention to Tom, remembering I forgot to retrieve my ripped pair. Leo thinking I slept with Tom, was the last thing I had imagined him believing when I was thinking up possibilities for an outcome. I would rather look like a bloody slut than have Leo remember his actions. My actions. I make a mental note to cut Tom's throat out, for keeping my panties as some false trophy. In a haze of anger, I rise to go find him, when my eyes zero in on my target. The sight of him makes my legs collapse back into my seat. A bandage is stretched across his forehead and nose, bruises spotting his face as if he were hit with paint balls.
seems like something got to him first.
scratch that.
someone.
He holds an ice pack on his head, sitting on the bench calmly as Dad steps up to him and claps his back, bending down to whisper something. Tom fake laughs, fear dancing in his face, as he turns to look at Leo. The still fresh cut on his eyebrow, is ever present as he bounces the ball against the rim. His routine. My memory calls back the image of his bruised fist, and bleeding brow. From here I can see an ident where his earring must have pushed into his skin. He winced as he bounces the basketball, but shakes it off and turns to the huddle.
oh leo.
what did you do?

                   _________________

Dad drops my keys in my hand. The familiar metal glides against my palm, and I lunge against him in excitement. The sound echoing against the gym now empty.
"Thank you so much Dad!" I hug him, and he stiffens against me. Patting my back awkwardly.
"Don't mention it. It just got out of the shop." He smiles, pulling away from me. I step back, excitement never leaving my voice. I suddenly remember my dawning question, and attempt to bring it up casually.
"So um, I heard Rick's Diner is amazing! Wanna try it some time?" I say nonchalantly. His eyes dart around for a moment, but soften in a second. Deeming suspicion.
"Isn't that far? I mean there are other amazing places to eat in this town. Millersville is a hotspot for diners." He shrugs, turning toward his stuff near the bench. I walk up beside him.
"I mean yea, but that one seems...posh" I stammer. He looks back at me and nods.
"Im just too busy,"
"I can take my car now!" I exclaim excitingly. He stops fidgeting with his stuff turning toward me.
"Astrid, why are you so hung up on this diner?"
"I heard it's the best in s-san francisco.." I say hastily. He narrows his eyes, looking back at me as if he knows what i'm trying to do.
"Okay." He shrugs, placing his clipboard in his bag.
"Okay?"
"You're a adult aren't you?"
"Well yea,"
"Cool. Oh and I wanted to talk to you about something." He sits down, patting the seat next to him. I join him and nod.
"Go ahead," I say, eager for answers.
"So i've been needing some help with stats, and we don't have a manager or assistant coach, since the budget is low. And I know your past with the sport, so it would be the perfect position for you." He says, placing his hands in his lap. I stare at him in shock.
"What?! You're asking me to be manager?"
"Telling."
"But father-"
"I've seen how close you are with some of the guys, and you know what you are talking about. As you know I can't always be at practice." He explains calmly.
"Dad! Come on, I don't even know what to say to that! I don't know how to be a manager," I say desperately.
"Do you miss basketball?" He says in a stern voice, looking me square in the eye. My words disappear from my mouth, as I stammer.
"Well, I... kinda?" I say slowly.
"Yes or no. Do you miss the game?" He repeats.  His eyes powerfully coax the truth out of me.
"Yes. Yea, I do." I admit, looking down at my hands, feeling the ball back in my palms.
"Then that's all you needed to say." He nods and begins to walk off. "Oh, and pack up those carts and meet me in the car." He walks off, leaving me in the dimly lit gym.
I roll the rack near the supply closet, easing the door open. I pop on the light and shriek at what I find.
"Shit! Astrid!"
I look down at the floor to see Leo laid across a makeshift bed. A curtain laid across the ground, and his hoodie propped up as a pillow. I gulp as my eyes shift down to find his bare chest and a pair of grey sweatpants. I divert my eyes, pushing the cart into the far corner. The spacious room allowing a sliver of moonlight to illuminate it. I clear my throat walking farther into the room.
"What are you doing here?" I say staring down at him. He looks away from my face, no sign of wanting to speak on the matter, on his features. He plants his wrist on the ground, to prop himself up. Wincing and stealing a look at his bruised knuckles. My eyebrows knot in concern, as I glide up to him. Kneeling down, and gingerly examining his hand. I run a soft finger across it, as he watches me silently. I look to him, wanting to flee from the intensity of his stare.
"That's pissing me off." I point toward his busted eyebrow, and my feet shuffle over to find a first aid kit. I lift the alcohol pad, settling next to him as his eyes carve into mine. I attempt to focus, gliding the wipe smoothly against his skin. He winced softly at the sting
"Fuck." He whispers. I press my finger to his lips.
"No talking when I'm working."
"You want to play doctor now huh? Tell me, Astrid. What profession will you be role playing next?" He says, his breath warm against my face. I set the wipe down and begin to apply ointment.
"Oh shutup. That's hardly a reason to talk. I'm seeing the value in such positions. Though there are people like you playing homeless." I retort. Gesturing to his makeshift mat. His face falls serious.
"My home is inhabitable at the moment." He says slowly. I giggle, but stop when his eyes fall innocent on a spot behind me.
"And that's because..."
"It won't stop speaking to me." He seems to disappear miles away from me, his attention on a spot on the ground.
away.
away.
far away.
"Leo," I start to accuse him of being insane, when his face tells a different story of loss. Of grief. Of suffering.
"Im sorry I don't know what's..." He shuts his eyes as if he were in pain. Gripping his ears, and moving his head back and forth. "Im not crazy i-i..."
"Leo what is it..."
"I want to stop hearing them. They won't leave me, they want me to leave!" He exclaims. Fighting against himself. Against the humid air around us. But he's not here. His voice is present, but he's transferred to someplace. Somewhere. Where I am not. His breathing falls hollow. He's not okay. He's not alright. But I am. I desire to reach out and connect our flesh. Bleed my awareness into his. Bring him here. Bring him home. The moonlight taunts him. I feel it. I feel them.
I begin to get scared, staring into the glossy look in Leo's eyes. He's gone somewhere far away, and I desperately try to pull him back as his hands start to shake in paranoia.
"Leo, it's alright. Leo,"
He begins to tremble, his eyes permitting tears to free fall. Gritting his teeth as they begin to glide down his cheeks.
"They are following me they-" He begins, his voice small. I take his head in my hands, getting on my knees to raise his eyes up to me.
"Look at me." I whisper. "It's okay they left.  They are gone." I say softly. I wipe his tear, as he begins to nod. His eyes defrosting, leaving his breathing heavy. "They left. You're okay." I nod, and he begins to mimic me. His face bobbing up and down. My head swirls into confusion, but I still hold the glue to continue to piece him back together. His shattered parts laying in front of us. "When i'm here they will always leave. Okay?" I say, my voice morphing into something I don't recognize. He nods, the little boy inside his eyes peering back at me, evolving back into the man he was just seconds ago.
He breathes. He pants. He stares and waits as if I have the answers. So for tonight I pretend I do. As if he were a child in need of helping as I was in need. I hold his head in my hands because my hands were never held. I breathe words of the sun between us because the moonlight caressed the bleakness of my childhood and wiped my memories clean of my father.
I wrap us in the reassurance that whatever is wrong, is wrong but now it is made right. My hands crack and craft a bed. A bed of warmth.  A bed he can lay where fear never nips at his mind. So I breath. My heart skips. My heart waltzes.
He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me down next to him. His grip tight and unmoving.
"Leo," I begin, trying to pry his strong hands from my waist.
"Astrid. Just- just stay here for now. Please." He nuzzles his face against my hair, breathing slowly. My breath catches in my throat. The automatic light shutting off at the absence of movement. The moon casting shadows across his face.
"What are you doing..."
"I want to live without them for one night. Stay." He whispers. His voice falling husky.
I don't know what Leo is going through. What the voices are. What's has reckoned his mind. But I am informed on one thing. That his arms wrapped tightly around me, and his reliance on my small frame, makes me want to envelope him in satin. And care for his every need.
A feeling.
No, a needing to be loved. To love. To live.