knocked me down

chapter five

myra POV

I twist the nozzle on my speaker until it's partially above halfway. As I sit down in front of my laptop, I allow 'Fault line' by Gracie Abrams to surround me with a wall of sound. I find I'm most productive when I'm listening to gut-wrenching, depressing music. I quickly move my fingers over my keyboard, logging in and skimming through my emails.

l open a blank Word Document and write the heading: Psychology Assignment. I press the 'enter' button twice before writing about the task. I begin to type but continuously delete my work. I'm stumped. I still haven't found a group of people that I want to interview and my professor is slowly coming down on me about it. Practically everyone in the class has already started with their interviews and I'm still sitting here, unable to write a word. I start to think harder and try my hardest to write something down, even if it's terrible: "Maybe in another universe, it'll be easier for someone to love you." This assignment will outline and explain how and why nursing students responded to this statement. No, not nursing students. Drama students? No. The band ensemble? No. I give up? Yes.

This shouldn't be that hard and yet I can't think of a single group of people that I want to work with for this stupid assignment. I let my head fall into my hands as a long sigh is pulled from me. I place my fingers back down onto the keyboard before a knock from the front door sounds throughout the apartment. It's not Astrid, seeing as though she has a key. It's also the middle of the day and we very rarely get visitors. I stand from my seat at the dining table and without bothering to look through the peephole, I slowly pull the door open. The last person I'm expecting to be standing there, is standing there. "Dad?" I say out of shock while he stares down at me. He doesn't say anything but then I realise that he's still standing outside. I hold the door open and gesture for him to come in. I watch as my 6"3 giant of a father walks into my apartment, filled with pinks, oranges and blues, bows on almost everything in sight and the occasional lip gloss hanging around on every surface possible. 'erase me' by Lizzy McAlpine rings out from my speaker and my dad looks around. "I'll turn that off" I say as I rush to pick up my speaker and turn it off, the room now filled with only silence.

"Do you want something to drink?" I ask as he takes a seat on one of the kitchen island stools. "Yeah, you got coffee?" I look over my shoulder and nod. Of course we have coffee, I'm not a lunatic. I throw a pod into the coffee machine and grab a mug. I turn back around while a soft buzz surrounds the obvious awkwardness that lingers over the room. "So?" I say while I place my palms on the cool marble in-front of me. He takes a deep breath before talking, something he's always done when he's about to either ask for something or deliver bad news. "You probably don't know, but my teams manager, James Carlton, is being transferred for a better job up in Kelvin." I never really liked that guy. He always seemed to stress my dad out. They've worked together forever, he would come over to our house sometimes. But, whenever my dad came home after spending a whole day with him, he was constantly panicking. I nodded my head, letting him continue. Before he began speaking again, I turned around to grab his coffee, putting milk and sugar in it before placing the mug in-front of him.

"With this competitions rules, every team has to have a team manager or else they can't play. And now we're without one." I immediately know where he's going with this. He can sense that I know what he's going to say but he says it anyway, "I was wondering if you'd help out. Only temporarily, until we can find someone else." I glance around the room, not looking him in the eye. "I don't know, Dad. I've sort of got my plate full and plus, I don't even like basketball. Why don't you choose someone that does?" He shakes his head and laughs. "After all this time of me having this job, you still hate it." I don't say anything in response. He catches on that I'm being serious and not sarcastic, "Look Myra, we only have a couple days to find someone. I don't want to make my boys forfeit."

I rub the back of my neck, weighing the pros and cons in my head. He can tell I'm still not convinced. "You'll get paid and I know you have a busy schedule but you only need to be there for one training session a week and the games on Sundays. Apart from that, you're free from manager duties." I look down at myself. I do not picture myself as someone who sits on the side-lines with a clipboard or whatever the manager does. But I also don't want to be the reason that the whole team has to quit. I let out a heavy sigh and look at my dad from across the island.

"Fine. I'll do it. What day of training do I need to be there for?" I say with my arms crossed over my chest. I watch as a smile gleams from one side of my dads face to the other. "Well we have 3 trainings. Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday. All from 6pm to 8pm." I think for a second about what day it is today. Tuesday. "Well you have one tonight then? I'll come on Tuesdays and Sundays obviously for games." He nods before embracing me in a hug. In a glance, I spot my laptop and get an idea. I step back from him for a moment. "I have a question." He doesn't say anything but I can tell he wants me to ask him whatever is on my mind. "I have a psychology assignment that I have to interview a group of people for. Do you think that I could interview your team for it?" He smiles wide, a good sign. "Of course you can. It's the least they can do for you doing this for them." I smile back into our hug, finally knowing what I'm doing for this psychology situation.

I hear the door click open and pulling away from my dad I spot Astrid putting groceries down on the island. "Hey Mr. Lewis!" She exclaims as she takes her shoes off. Astrid loves my dad as much as she loves hers. She's a part of our family and has been since we met. "How many times am I going to tell you to call me Mitchell and not Mr. Lewis?" She shakes her head with a laugh while looking over at him, "It feels too natural now. I will never call you Mitchell. Too weird."

He quickly says bye to us before heading towards the door, "I'll see you tonight sweetheart." I wave him off before turning around to help Astrid with putting the food away. As she emerges from behind the fridge door, she glance over to me. "What're you doing tonight?" I sigh as I pull open a cupboard and put the Cornflakes in it. "I..um." I have no idea how to say this with my long track record of hating basketball. She gives me a weird look before putting something under the sink. "I'm the new - temporary - team manager." She stops in her tracks on the way back to the fridge and turns on her heels to face me. At first she struggles to string together the words, but eventually she gets there. "You're the new team manager. You? As in, Myra, coaches daughter and avid hater of basketball?" I roll my eyes before putting the paper grocery bags into the bin. "I know, I know. But I'll be getting paid for it, I don't have to do much and dad said I can interview the team for my psychology assignment."

She looks over at me from over the shoulder before fully turning around. "Okay. This is very different for you. But what's happening tonight?" She asks and I realise I never answered her question. "Oh, it's their training. I guess dad wants me to meet them as soon as possible." She nods before walking to her room and I go back to my laptop, finishing what I was trying to write before my dad got here: "Maybe in another universe, it'll be easier for someone to love you." This assignment will explain why the Belfaston Bulls players responses differentiate to other groups throughout the Belfaston Hills campus community.

I smile down at my barely started work but it fills me with content knowing that I'll actually get back on track like everyone else in my class. "What's got you so happy?" I hear Astrid ask with a smile from behind me. I wave her question off, "No, nothing." A smile dances across my face, beaming with joy.