Tightrope

19

NOW

BECCA

Months had gone by since that first night at Will's house, and I couldn't be happier with how things were between us.

He had reached out to me after that dinner, and we had gone out again, this time for coffee. Next time, he asked me to join him on a run. I was slowly starting to realize that maybe he had decided he wanted me in his life, too, and the mere thought of it made my heart skip a beat.

I thought about it all as I cooked the pasta for tonight's dinner:

OCTOBER:

That first dinner at Will's place had been halfway into October, and our coffee date had been late that month. Well, it was premature to call it a date. It was more of a coffee meeting.

NOVEMBER:

Will asked me to go on a run with him. I thought there wouldn't be many opportunities to talk while running, since I had never had a running buddy, but it was actually a good strategy to keep a steady pace. We were both distance runners, and so we aimed for ten miles that morning. It got a bit hard to keep the conversation flowing toward the end of that run, but for the first eight miles, we talked like old friends. He started catching me up on everything that I had missed. The end of middle school, high school, and finally, when he got drafted.

His school years had been mediocre at best, as he never really made another friend. He said he didn't want to have to explain why they couldn't come over, or why he had random anxiety attacks, or bruises sometimes. It was easier to avoid people, and I genuinely couldn't blame him. My own school years had been pretty mediocre, too, and when I couldn't even fathom the idea of getting as close with someone else that wasn't Will, I realized that what we had was truly special. A one of a kind friendship. A once-in-a-lifetime friendship.

He talked for four miles about when he got drafted. He even described the suit he was wearing: deep blue, almost black, with brown loafers. I knew exactly what suit he was talking about, as I had watched the draft's live stream and paid so much attention to everything. His clothes, his hair, and his expression when he heard he was drafted into his dream team. Back then, I knew the situation was different than when we were kids. Things had changed since he confessed to me at a very young age that his dream was to play for the Chicago Whispers. The team went from being the absolute best to one of the worse in the league. It was utterly heartbreaking for me since I loved the team so very much, but I was so glad to see Will go there. I knew he would change the team's fate. I knew he would carry them back to success. I had cheered for him so hard as if he could hear me from the other side of the TV.

He told me he was incredibly nervous about it, as he was merely eighteen years old, and already starting what would become the rest of his life. All the other players had their families with them. They had their siblings, parents, cousins, and best friends, all rooting for them. Will told me he only had Nate, who was merely ten years old, but already so proud of his big brother. He was the only person he hugged when he was drafted. The only person that congratulated him, and told him he was proud.

This revelation gnawed at my heart. I knew I should have been there. Had we not separated years before, it would have been Nate and me, sitting in the stands, cheering for Will. I told him that even though I hadn't been there physically, I had cheered louder than everyone else all the way from California. That I had always been with him, from a distance.

By mile seven, he was talking about his rookie year, and how badly it had gone for him. How much it had hurt when people started calling him the biggest disappointment of the league, and how he felt like he was letting everyone down. I knew the year he was talking about, I didn't miss a single one of his games that year. I turned on the T.V., or heard it on the radio, wherever I was.