The Rising Star [Varsity Boys #1]

Chapter Eighteen

Five years ago...

This would've been any other Friday night if it weren't for the championship game tonight. My old man didn't waste any time reminding me when he woke me up this morning. He wanted to run some drills before I headed out for school.

At the crack of dawn, my batshit, crazy father already got me running back and forth at the basketball court. He wanted my movements to be executed perfectly. Because we couldn't afford a loss today. Not like we lost any other game in the season.

The championship was on the line which got my father's boxers in a twist. Maple Hills High had won the trophy for the last ten years. He wanted to continue the streak because he was the one who broke it.

Who would've thought Adam Moretti, the big-time, famous basketball player, cost Maples Hill High their championship game. All because of a girl. I couldn't even blame him either. Because the girl was my mother.

My mother got into a car accident the night of the finals. It was raining cats and dogs that night. She was on her way to the school when a driver who ran a stop sign hit the driver's side of the car. She was in critical condition and was driven to the emergency.

My father (bless his soul) left the game and went to see if my mother was okay. He waited and stayed in the hospital, even when he knew the game was starting. At that point, he didn't even care about the championships if the woman he loved wasn't there to celebrate with him.

Maple Hills High lost. They didn't have their captain and their point guard to guide them for a victory. My mother told me (She was the one who told me this story. My father would not show any type of weakness towards me), her husband cried for the whole weekend. She assumed it was because they lost but it was because of her. Because she was so close to never coming back home to him.

Inevitably, my mother blamed herself. But my father constantly reassured her that he had a choice. And he never regretted the fact that he chose her.

When my mother told me this story, I didn't have the heart to tell her that my father was full of shit. Whatever he told her was to comfort her because I knew he blamed her just a little bit.

When I was old enough to start learning to play basketball, my father always reminded me that I couldn't afford distractions. Everything connected for me. As if a light bulb just went on in my brain.

My father treated my mother as a distraction. He beat himself up every day, until now. If he didn't let himself get attached to her, they would've won the championship.

At some point, I wondered if my mother knew what my father truly felt. That he blamed her. That his love for her was the reason why his team broke the streak. Speaking from a bystander view, I thought it was worth it. Imagine if he went and played instead, I wouldn't have been born.

Anyway, it was just some dumb high school championship. He ended up winning the state championship in university. My old man needed to relax because we got this in the bag.