Chapter 22 - Keisha’s Apology
Keisha asked Jordan to meet her at a coffee shop.
No Marcus.
No Darius.
Jordan almost declined.
Then he decided he wanted to know what she could say when nobody was there to protect.
Keisha arrived early.
She wore a simple gray sweater instead of the polished clothes Jordan associated with her.
Jordan sat across from her.
“You wanted to talk.”
“Yes.”
She wrapped both hands around her coffee.
“I owe you a better apology.”
Jordan waited.
Keisha took a breath.
“I’m sorry I told you being seventeen meant you needed your father less.”
Jordan’s jaw tightened.
She continued.
“I said it because it made what I wanted sound reasonable.”
Jordan said nothing.
“I’m sorry I treated your championship like an optional event.”
She looked at him.
“And I’m sorry I helped your father feel justified canceling Atlanta.”
Jordan’s eyes narrowed.
“Helped?”
Keisha nodded.
“I pushed him.”
Jordan appreciated the word.
“I told him you had plenty of opportunities. I knew Coach Reed had mentioned assistance.”
“So you knew money wasn’t the real reason.”
“Yes.”
Jordan leaned back.
“Why?”
Keisha looked toward the window.
“You know some of it.”
“Andre.”
“Yes.”
“That explains Darius.”
“It explains me.”
Jordan waited.
Keisha swallowed.
“When Marcus came into our lives, I wanted certainty.”
She laughed softly.
“Relationships don’t offer that.”
“No.”
“I thought if he chose Darius publicly, repeatedly, then I could believe he wouldn’t disappear.”
Jordan stared.
“So I was a test.”
Keisha’s eyes filled.
“Yes.”
The honesty hurt.
Jordan looked down at the table.
Keisha continued.
“I compared everything.”
“Games.”
“Yes.”
“Money.”
“Yes.”
“Time.”
“Yes.”
Jordan looked back.
“Did Darius know?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Keisha nodded.
“He loved having Marcus around. I turned that into leverage.”
Jordan’s anger returned.
“He’s thirteen.”
“I know.”
“You made him feel guilty for liking my dad.”
“I know.”
Jordan shook his head.
“That might be worse than what you did to me.”
Keisha accepted it.
“Maybe.”
Jordan looked away.
For several seconds he wanted to say something cruel.
Something that would make her hurt.
Then he thought of the empty seat.
Humiliation had not made him wiser.
He chose truth.
“I don’t trust you.”
Keisha nodded.
“I know.”
“I don’t want you making decisions about my life.”
“You shouldn’t.”
“I don’t want Dad using you as an excuse anymore.”
“Neither do I.”
Jordan studied her.
“What happens if you get scared again?”
Keisha smiled sadly.
“I’m in therapy.”
Jordan blinked.
“Oh.”
“That wasn’t the dramatic answer you expected?”
“No.”
She laughed.
“I started after Andre came back.”
Jordan nodded.
“Good.”
Keisha took out an envelope.
Jordan’s body tensed.
“What?”
“It isn’t money.”
She slid it over.
Inside was a photograph.
Jordan frowned.
It showed Marcus in the bleachers at one of Jordan’s middle-school games.
Jordan on court.
Marcus leaning forward.
Beside him sat Keisha, years younger.
Jordan looked up.
“You knew him then?”
Keisha nodded.
“Barely.”
“How?”
“Darius played in the younger division.”
Jordan studied the date printed on the photograph.
Four years earlier.
Before Marcus and Keisha said they began dating.
Jordan felt suspicion rise.
“You two were together?”
“No.”
“Then why do you have this?”
Keisha sighed.
“Because I took it.”
“Why?”
“I thought your father was a good dad.”
Jordan stared.
Keisha’s eyes filled.
“That is the ugliest irony in all of this.”
Jordan looked back at the photograph.
Marcus’s attention was entirely on the court.
On Jordan.
Keisha continued.
“I admired the thing I later resented.”
Jordan slowly returned the photo.
“Keep it.”
“I thought you might want it.”
“I have enough proof he used to show up.”
Keisha flinched slightly.
Jordan immediately wondered if he had gone too far.
He did not apologize.
The statement was true.
Keisha put the photograph away.
“Fair.”
They sat quietly.
Finally Jordan asked, “Do you love him?”
Keisha looked surprised.
“Yes.”
“Then stop asking him to prove it by hurting somebody.”
Her eyes filled again.
“I’m trying.”
Jordan nodded.
“That’s what he says too.”
When he returned home, Marcus was repairing a cabinet hinge.
“How’d it go?”
Jordan leaned against the doorway.
“She told you?”
“She said she asked to meet.”
Jordan nodded.
“It was fine.”
Marcus waited.
Jordan smiled faintly.
“You dying to ask?”
“Yes.”
“Too bad.”
Marcus laughed.
Jordan headed upstairs.
Halfway up he stopped.
“She apologized.”
Marcus looked up.
“Okay.”
“I didn’t forgive everything.”
“You don’t have to.”
Jordan nodded.
Then continued upstairs.
That night, Darius called.
“My mom said she talked to you.”
“Yeah.”
“She cry?”
Jordan laughed.
“Why?”
“She cries when she tells the truth now.”
Jordan smiled.
“That’s specific.”
Darius became quieter.
“You still mad at her?”
“Yes.”
“Oh.”
“But less.”
Darius seemed relieved.
Jordan added, “You don’t have to track that.”
“What?”
“Whether I forgive her.”
Darius was silent.
“You can love your mom even when I’m mad at her.”
Darius exhaled.
“Okay.”
Jordan looked toward the championship trophy.
“You can also love Marcus even when I’m mad at him.”
Darius laughed.
“You’re less mad.”
Jordan considered it.
“Yeah.”
He was.
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Not because the betrayal had become smaller.
Because it no longer controlled every room.
