Noah Silas Anderson

Chapter Thirty-two: "That girl is a beast"

My day started when Brooklyn woke me up with a phone call.

"What are you, my personal alarm clock now?" I grumbled into the phone. I rolled over and saw the time on my clock said 9:24 AM. This girl has lost her mind waking me up early on the weekend, but I should've been getting ready to wake up anyway.

She giggled into the phone. "Hey, boy. It's game day!"

I didn't say the usual "hey, girl" back. My palms swiped down my morning face and I let out a yawn.

"It's Sunday already?" I asked, having forgotten all my plans for the day.

I heard Brooklyn suck her teeth and could oddly tell what face she was making. "Don't tell me you forgot," she whined, "if you don't go, I will look like a loser."

I chuckled and slid off my mattress to limp to the bathroom as I had gotten over a Charlie horse (cramp) in the middle of my sleep.

"Noah! What the Hell, are you peeing? Mute me," Brooklyn spazzed over the phone. I just laughed and flushed before washing my hands.

"How are we going to be best friends if you can't even hear my stream?"

"'Your steam'? Ew. And who said anything about best friends? Besides, I already claimed Cassie."

I gasped, faking being offended. "Wow. What does Cassie have that I don't?"

"A vagina and the ability to not want to fuck me," she listed. When I didn't reply right away, Brooklyn made her own sound effects like she just roasted me.

"Aha, good one," I monotoned back. "What time is your game?"

"My first one is at three, then I play at five; and if we win that game, we play at seven." She informed me while I spit the mouthwash into the sink after brushing my teeth. I splashed cold water on my face and dried it with a hand towel then threw it on the counter and left the bathroom.

I mentally made a note of the times so I could remember and hopefully make one. "Okay. Twelve o'clock, two, and four? Got it!"

"Nooo!" She laughed this laugh so ugly it was cute and I couldn't help but smile like a dummy as I stared out of the window in my bedroom.

"Are you getting ready to go?" I asked Brooklyn as I wandered into the kitchen and aimlessly searched for some breakfast.

"Heading out the door now!" She exclaimed. Hearing shuffling noises in the background, I peeked my head through my door and saw Brooklyn hustling from her door to the elevator a few paces away.

I ended the call and watched her face curl. When Brooks vibrated her lips, growing inpatient at the slow shaft, I yelled, "Hey, girl!" She gasped, startled to see me, and lit up. We both waved.

The elevator arrived and opened the doors. Once Brooklyn waved for the final time, I shouted, "Good luck!"

Brooklyn was inside of the elevator as the doors slowly came to a close, but still managed to yell loud enough for me to hear her go, "THANK YOU!" And the smile on my face didn't fade until I stepped back inside.

I pulled up to the rehab center where Rick admitted himself. Apparently the facility was really nice and praised for their success stories. I didn't know shit about rehab except my father's in there.

After checking in with a nurse, I was given instructions on what to do and led to the center where'd Rick would meet me at any second.

My knee nervously shook under the table while I waited.
Slightly easing my nerves, Brooks sent me a Snapchat. It was a picture of her in the locker room getting ready. She jokingly overused emojis like an obnoxious middle schooler and captioned it:

😈GAME DAY🏐 TURN ME UP‼️😤💪🏼

I laughed through my nose and started to reply, snapping a picture of my forehead to caption it.

"Noah." Rick's voice got me to look up from my screen. It'd only been a few days since I last saw him but he looked much better. He wasn't the Rick I knew before the drugs, but still, better.

"Hey, Rick," I swallowed. He sat before I did and looked around nervously. I just watched as he kind of ticked and looked spaced out. "How are you holding up in here?"

"It's a mad house - straight jackets, padded walls," he said, making my face fall. Rick cackled. "No, I'm kidding; it's actually pretty nice. I never thanked you for giving-"

"We don't have to talk about that," I denied, tugging at the rubber bracelet on my wrist.

Rick gulped and scratched the beard going down his neck. "How's Emmy?"

I dreaded talking about his family, mainly because I hadn't heard shit from Kim except that Emereigh lived with the couple and adjusted "just fine."

"She's good, Rick, Kim says she's getting along with his kids, and she's excelling at the day care school," I told him. That brung a wry smile to his pale face.

"Good. Noah, when I get out I'm going to be a different man, I-I promise. I don't want you to be like me," he spoke, "gettin' into drugs, and shit. Naw, you're a grown man but if there's anything you'll ever take away from me, let it be that."

Part of me wanted to leave. Who did he think he was to be giving me life advice? He's the crackhead who abandoned his son.
But, he's still my father and I'm all he's got now so, I bit my tongue. It just hurt that he so desperately wanted to keep me away from drugs and look at my job. Dead mom, druggie father; you either succeed in life or if you live long enough, become like one of them.

Things fell silent between us, so I checked my phone. Brooklyn sent me another Snapchat. This time, she was in her spandex, jersey, knee pads, and number 10 uniform, posing in the mirror. It was captioned:

game time!!!

I replied back with a picture of the top of my black hat and that's it.

"Is that your girl?" he asked me, trying to peek at my now locked screen.

"What, Rick? No," I scoffed, adjusting how I sat on the bench. He managed to get a laugh out of me.

"Well, why not? Don't you think it's about time you settle down? I do want grandkids one day."

I glazed my tongue over my teeth and shook my head. "Oh, you're giving me relationship advice now?"

"You obviously need it," he chuckled.

My eyes grew wide at his dig. "Okay, old man. I don't think you have much room to talk, Mr.Married-three-times."

"OHHH! Good one, okay, I can take it." He paused, staring off blankly. When he blinked, he returned his focus to me. Rick sighed and said, "Your mother was the best woman I ever met. And-"

"Rick," I tried stopping him from the unnecessary trip down memory lane.

"No, let me say this. It eats me up everyday I never let you say goodbye," he sobbed, "she was the best woman I've ever met, and she loved you more than anyone has ever loved anything or anyone else. You might not respect me much but take it from me; when you find a good woman, don't let her go. D-Don't make stupid mistakes that will cost you your whole life."

"What if I already make a mistake and I'm paying for it?" I vented, cracking my knuckles over the table.

Rick grew worried and asked a million questions. "Noah, what did you do?!"

I've shared too much already, that's way more than Rick deserved to know about me. "Nothing, it was hypothetical," I mumbled, checking the time on my phone. 12:27 PM.

I stood and told Rick I'd see him at the next visit. Whenever that will be.

"Take care, Noah."

***

6:54 PM I thought I was just on time for Brooks last game.

I spent the afternoon doing my late PT homework and then crashed on the couch for a few hours.

Racing inside, I was stopped by a short woman with a red, curled Bob.

"Seven dollars," she rasped.

I flailed my arms. "Seven dollars? Are you kidding me, it's the last game!" I didn't mean to sound cheap but who would pay seven dollars to watch one game?

"Seven dollars," she repeated stale. I smacked my lips at the old lady and coughed up a twenty-dollar bill. She took her sweet time giving me my change before strapping a wristband on me.

"Enjoy the game!" She clucked as I sauntered away.

I mocked her lowly as I approached the concession stand.

"Hi," a woman flirted when she laid eyes on me. She seemed like she was young, but looked like someone's mother. "What can I get for you?"

"Hi. Can I get a couple of airheads, Skittles, and two Gatorades? Please."

"What color?" she asked in this sensual voice.

I laughed at how hard she was trying and scratched my chin. "Uh, orange, I guess? Yeah, orange. And red."

"Here you go," she beamed, putting my items by the register.

After I paid, I walked towards the bleachers. I had no idea where to sit or which court Brooks was on so I asked a referee.

As I made my way to the main court, I caught a few games. It was loud as fuck in the gym, from the players to the watchers.

People probably thought I was some creeper or a dedicated boyfriend the way I stalked up the packed bleachers alone. I took my seat comfortably at the top, a good distance from other people. They were just so into it, I had to laugh. This one woman even started an argument with this old bald white guy for talking shit. Who knew women's volleyball was so aggressive?

My eyes scanned every player on the court for Brooklyn but I didn't see her. She wasn't on the sidelines either.

Don't tell me I'm late, I thought, mentally facepalming myself.

"Hey, boy," Brooklyn suddenly appeared, stomping up the bleachers to get to me.

"Hey, girl," I replied, smiling up at Brooklyn as she stood in her uniform. I couldn't help but let my eyes roam over every inch of her body. Her legs were as smooth and long as any model's, and the body-fitting uniform perfectly highlighted her hourglass frame.

"Noah, this is Kacey, Sydney, Rita and Lizzy," Brooklyn introduced her teammates to me. The captain, the setter, an older-looking player, and their libero.

I removed the handful of Skittles from my mouth and addressed the group. One of the girls, number six, was taller than me, she had to be like 6'7", there's no way. I'm terrified of her, but it was cute seeing Brooklyn no longer be "the tall girl", her 5'9" was nothing to them.

While Brooklyn sat beside me and demanded some of my snacks, her new friends engaged in the intense game on the main court.

"We're running late," Brooklyn told me as she chewed the candy. "Is this for me?" She noticed the second bottle of Gatorade. Focusing on the last set, I just nodded and let her pick which one she wanted.

A loud uproar from the crowd let me know someone just won the match. Brooklyn's friends said some hating ass comments and put their game faces on.

Kacey, the tall one, said, "Brookie, we're going to warm up. We're on this court, okay? Don't be too long. Bye, Noah." I waved as they descended the steps.

"Brookie?" I teased.

Straight-faced, Brooklyn shrugged and mumbled, "Brookie: Brooklyn... Rookie." She dug through her bag for athletic tape and then said, "Okay, I'm going to go see if there's a trainer to tape my fingers-"

"Let me do it," I suggested, sitting up. I cleared my throat. "I'm in athletic training, give me the tape." Impressed, she coughed it up and I took her hand. Brooklyn looked around as I wrapped her fingers, and used her other hand to pull her shorts down.

"Nervous?" I asked her, looking into her big, wonder-filled eyes. Even in a uniform, she looked like a Barbie Doll. And then she turns into a complete goofball. Goofball? Ew.

She exhaled smoothly through slightly parted lips. "For the other team," she joked, making me laugh.

"That's not how you do it," Brooklyn nagged, making my face curl.

"Yeah it is, you just do it wrong," I insisted and continued what I was doing the RIGHT way.

Once I was done her right hand, she looked at the gauze and gave me a satisfied look. "Okay, my apologies, this feels a lot better."
With the other hand done, she pulled the knee pads directly under her actual knee cap and told me to watch her bag while she went to warm up.
I didn't bother saying good luck or anything because she obviously didn't need it. A couple people in the stands wished Brooks a good luck as she descended and hurriedly thanked them.

When I broke my gaze from Brooklyn in those little shorts, I noticed the man six feet to my left staring as well. "Hey!" I whistled at him and threw a Skittle to get his attention.

The heavy man with a dirty blonde corporate haircut and light blue Lacoste button-up snapped out of it at the feeling of the candy bouncing off his gut. He glanced at me and asked, "Oh. That your girl?"

I almost didn't say anything back until I noticed the jealous woman beside him, wondering what our exchange was about.
"That your wife?" I rebutted. When he had nothing to say, and sat there looking dumb in the face, I smugly rotated on the seat and watched Brooks and her girls stretch.

They took turns serving and receiving the ball.
When it was Brooklyn's turn, I did the favor of recording her because I know how athletes like to see themselves after the game. Hey, look at me being a good friend. Point for Noah.

She inhaled, tossed the ball high into the air and jumped to it, landing inbounds after a successful ace. Shit. My face animated in shock at how good that was.

"Seriously, man," the fat guy from a minute before leaned in to whisper, "is that your girl?"

***

Fifth set. Sharks won the first two while their opponents took other two. If Brooklyn's team won this one, it was over and vice versa.

The score, in the Shark's (Brooklyn's team) favor, was 10-14. Game point.

It's been about two hours and I was surprised I
hadn't been trying to find an excuse to leave, that's how interesting the game was.
Brooklyn stayed on the floor practically the whole match. She ended 18 kills (with three "errors"), 4 solo blocks, six digs, and two aces - definition of a beast.

I watched as Number 10 (Brooklyn) waited for the ball. Someone on her team said something, making her laugh, and I couldn't help but think of cute she is.
Brooks adjusted her ponytail and then fixed her shorts.
After a whistle, Brooklyn was given the ball and mouthed a "thank you" before planting her feet on the court.

The crowd on my side settled as Brooklyn went back to the line to serve. Meanwhile, the other side of the gym tried to psych her out. And despite all of their antics, she perfectly sent the ball well over and had the Tigers struggle to receive her serve, but they did.
Their libero hardly dug the ball, sending it to their scrappy setter at the net, getting it to a crafty left side hitter who attacked the ball.

The Sharks block didn't work and the ball almost hit the floor when Lizzy (in the different color jersey) pancaked it. Loud cheers came from people surrounding me. Hell, I even stood to witness this. Everyone was biting their nails.
Times like this take me back to my football days, I miss it.

A player on the Sharks pushed the ball in the air and Brooklyn approached it from the back row, powerfully getting some spin on the ball and wisely sent it right in an open space on the other side of the net. Two back row players on the Tigers dove for it but it was too hard, and they were too late.

Brooklyn won her team the game and they all jumped for joy, screaming like banshees.

I recorded another Snap for Brooks to see later. I got the fans chanting and then flipped the camera on myself to say, "Good game, girl."

***

"-I was like 'BAM, take that!'" Brooklyn boomed as we walked inside Panda Express right after her game. I laughed, holding the door for her, while she physically demonstrated some of the things she did tonight.

"Did you see me?!" She kept wondering after every highlight she mentioned. I nodded for the millionth time and laughed, taking a spot in line.

"Brooks, I gotta be honest," I said, "I didn't think you'd be that good."

She pinched both my cheeks and said, "Don't underestimate me, I do this," then tripped on nothing but air. I laughed with the black couple behind me, earning a playful nudge from Brooks.

"Next!" The girl in red behind the counter yelled.

Brooklyn and I got to the register and stared at each other, wondering who's paying. I was going to, I just wanted to see how she'd act. The cashier laughed at our childish nonsense.
Giving in, I pushed my large cup at Brooklyn's chest and told her to get me water with no ice. She smiled triumphantly, being a brat again, and skipped to the refreshments but not before grabbing two sets of chopsticks.

All paid and given a receipt and change, I carried our plates to the far booth that Brooklyn picked.

The restaurant was dimly lit, almost empty with the exception of people carrying-out, and had soft pop music of today playing from the speakers in the ceiling.

Brooklyn presented me with my full cup and as a consequence for her rich ass not paying, I stole her fortune cookie.

"No, Noah," she gasped, reaching for it, "it's my fortune, it's for me!"

I ripped it apart and flicked the little piece of paper on her tray, but kept the cookie. Curious, I then read mine and ate that cookie, too.

Brooklyn read hers out loud. "Your road to glory will be rocky but fulfilling." She just shrugged and sipped her drink, thinking nothing of it.

"All the effort you are making will ultimately pay off," I recited. Sure. . .

Brooklyn started using these chopsticks and I watched in admiration, or jealousy.

"How can I not do that?" I asked, annoyed after trying twelve times. I just couldn't get it but she did it so easily!

"Uncultured," she joked, popping a piece of orange chicken in her mouth. Brooklyn then began slowly walking me through it and I got it eventually.

We talked over dinner about nothing and everything at the same time. It was nice having someone as witty and talkative as myself.

Back at The Beach Plaza where we stayed, I locked my car doors in the parking lot and walked with Brooklyn inside as she continued to boast about her performance in the game.

On the third floor, I prepared to part ways for the night.

Brooklyn came down from her laughing fit and blinked her eyelashes at me. We both were tired and full but didn't admit it. We skipped the corny "tonight was fun" and locked eyes. As if we were thinking the same thing - that we can't do this - we awkwardly looked away at the same time. That's when I noticed Brooklyn's face fall, like she was upset about something all of a sudden.

What the hell, I thought in my head. I stepped in and squeezed Brooklyn's body. A harmless hug won't hurt anything.

She smiled up at me and then said, "Good night, No-ee."

"Aheh," I chuckled.

"What's funny?" Brooklyn asked, giggling as she unlocked her door.

"That's what my nieces call me," I crowed, inching away.

"Uncle No-ee, hm? Cute. Good night, boy," she whispered, disappearing into the darkness that consumed the inside of her apartment.