The Choice ✔︎ Blake Griffin

1✔︎ Fed Up

Jubilee

I had reached my limit with my best friend, and I just couldn't do it anymore. Here I sit with his adorable blonde-haired baby boy, watching Inside Out and eating fruit snacks on a Friday night while he prepares to go on what feels like his one-hundredth date of the year.

I don't know what bothered me more: the fact that he kept going on dates with beautiful girls who seemed to have all the "right qualities" until they find out he has a son, or the fact that somehow I've allowed him to think that I will watch his son, while he goes on these time-wasters he calls "dates". Or maybe, if I'm honest, the real issue is this: I'm in love with my best friend, and I can't make a choice.

"JuJu, juice?" Ford asked me after finishing his fruit snacks.

"How do you ask, baby boy?" I said, in unison with his father who I didn't hear enter the room.

Of course, he was looking fine or whatever in a skintight, long-sleeved black shirt and red pants, his short, brownish-orange curls coiffed to perfection, and his new white chucks since I'd finally convinced him to get rid of his old, beat-up pair.

Ford immediately got excited seeing his father and started jumping on the bed, yelling at the top of his lungs, "Juice, Daddy, juice!"

I chuckled in response as there still was no "please" anywhere in that request. His father rushed to the bed, grabbing Ford and tossing him up and down in the air, saying, "You're missing the magic word, son!"

A wave of BG's fresh scent hit me, and I had to suppress a moan because he smelled absolutely divine. I immediately zoned out of this precious father-son fest to the first time I ever had a more than friendly thought about my best friend...

Five Years Ago

We had finally reached his first professional basketball game, and I couldn't tell if I was more thrilled for this moment or scared to death. I sat beside Tommy and Gail, Blake's parents, anxiously tapping my foot against the floor as the guys warmed up. My eyes kept traveling back and forth, up and down, watching Blake, his knee, and the ball every time he shot.

The past year of rehab had been excruciating for Blake and frustrating to watch as a friend or loved one. As his best friend, I couldn't leave him hanging during such a crucial time in his life, so most of my free time had been dedicated to him and his recovery. Driving him to and from the Clippers' facility after his surgery, doing his rehab with him at home, forcing him to get out of the house even when he was depressed about feeling lonely and not being able to play.

Not only did Blake have to deal with the pain of being injured right before the start of his rookie season, he also had to deal with the pain of losing his other so-called friends and girlfriend who were around when he was healthy and dunking but absent while he rehabbed and rode the bench.

"Relax, Jubilee, he has been cleared to play, and now we have to let God protect him on the court. He's strong, and for the most part he has you to thank for that," Gail said, placing her hand on my knee and saving me from my anxiety.

I weakly smiled and grabbed her hand before responding, "You are so right, Mrs. Gail, I guess it's just easier said than done when I've spent most of my last year helping BG recover and listening to him tell me over and over how much he's wanted to be on this court. Outside of my blood family, I've never wanted something so bad for someone."