The Brokenhearted [Ongoing]

Chapter 13

Visiting Philippines had been an enjoyable break and spending time with my lola and Roxanne was always pleasant. Roxanne had been a good friend and was always there whenever I needed her. Still, there was only this much she could do. It was up to me to face and conquer my demons.

"Sir, could you please not stand there?" Instructed the security guard.

Hopping away from the metal counter, I dropped the shoe on to the floor. As I wriggled my left foot in to the black leather  slip-on, I felt a sharp pain. Years had passed and my ankle still felt sore.

I will never forget the night which began with Michael and I trash talking at the bar about who was better at basketball. At 4:30 in the morning we drove back to my apartment building to get ready for the duel. Michael was stone cold sober while I was as merry as they come. I was thrilled to play especially since I believed that I was going to be unstoppable. I wouldn't be inhibited and would just let my natural game flow. How cocky we are after a few pints.

I swung the door open to the deserted gym and let Michael walk in first before flipping the switch. As the lights flickered and slowly illuminated the gym, his eyes darted back and forth processing his sorroundings. Impressed with the buildings amenities, he turned and nodded at me with a smile. Michael inspected the high-end equipment before walking on to the edge of the court and threw the ball towards the fibreglass board

We stepped on the court and as always, I didn't stretch or warm up. I wanted to start playing immediately. The game began and my confidence was riding high. It was time to school Michael and make him other statistic. A few minutes into the competition, reality came thumping and I began to struggle. I was a step lower than Michael and he just kept knocking down his shots. My jumpers refused to drop and with each miss, my confidence withered. Even my go-to moves, my bread and butter plays weren't working. I was the one being schooled. I was struggling to breathe as the booze was taking its toll, but I kept going.

I remembered standing in between the free throw line and the top of the key. Michael was guarding me as tight as he possibly could and refused to give an inch. I held the ball the ball low and then jumped straight up with my eyes focused on the rim. I raised my hands and got the shot off, while Michael tried to contest the jumper. I knew immediately it was another one of my many bricks. As I began to descend, I watched the ball float towards the front of the rim, never taking my eyes off it. I had to get the rebound. Following your shot was simple basketball fundamentals and had become instinct.

The next few seconds were a blur. I found myself screaming and cursing as I lay on the floor. While coming down, I had landed on Michael's foot. Rolling my left foot inwards and sprained my ankle. The pain was excruciating. An ankle sprain is one of the biggest fears of anyone who plays basketball. It's painful to watch and even hearing about it makes people wince. In matter of a split second, the foot rolls inward and all your weight comes drown on to your ankle pushing it closer to the floor, almost turning your foot 90 degrees away from the joint, and then it bounces back, if you're lucky.

I tried to walk it off so I could keep on playing but I was done. The next day, instead of attending to it, I had been out and about the city, limping and undoubtedly causing more damage to the ankle. By the time I arrived home, my whole left leg was in pain. The orthopedist saw the swollen, black, blue and purple ankle, and was certain that it was broken. However, the X-ray revealed that I had torn every single ligament all the wat around my ankle and had almost dislocated it. He seemed to think I was 'lucky'.

The rematch with Michael took place a few months later where we both were sober. I walked away with confident win and frustrated Michael. Unfortunately my ankle never healed properly. If only I had allowed the ankle to recover, if only I had taken more care for it, if only I was more patient. If I had done what the doctor and physiotherapist instructed, I could have full movement in my ankle and wouldn't have to ice it all the time. If only I had patience, my life would probably be a lot different today.

"We will be seating rows 20 to 30 now, please have your boarding pass ready."

Ten minutes remained until departure and the seat next to me, covered in cheap blue fabric, was still empty. I was relieved I didn't have another granny sitting next to me, and the fact that I might have a spare seat almost had me giddy. A vacant seat next to you can make all yhe difference to your travelling experience, especially when you sit in coach. Ten more minutes and it would all be mine. I began placing all the essentials such as the book I wouldn't read, the magazine that I would flick through and my iPod on to the free seat.

The air hostess, also dressed in what appeared to be cheap blue fabric, walked down the aisle making sure that everyone had their belts fastened and seats in the 'upright' position. I never understood why we had to bring our seats forward. What difference did pushing it back two inches during take-off and landing make? It's bad enough flying in economy with the crying babies and the oversized passengers beside you who overflow into your seat, can't we have two inches just to make it tolerable?.

Yet the airline is adamant about making our flying experience that much more uncomfortable by insisting we put our seats forward. Either way, as soon as flights take off, I always put my seat back immediately.

We were close to take off and I assumed my usual position of putting my head on the pillow which was placed against the window. Arianna's 'Moonlight' blared through my headphones as I shut my eyes ignoring the performance by the airhostess, and hoped that I only woke up once we had landed.

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TO BE CONTINUED...

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Thank you for reading my story hope you enjoy..
l o v e l o t s

SWETTCHEEKS14