Maybe It's Fate, page 3
And every time I passed by, Cutter was outside, too, shooting hoops or throwing his baseball against the pitch-back net. His determination and work ethic never failed to impress me.
“What happened?” I asked Cutter when he walked over the court to stand next to me.
He shrugged. “I saved Eleni.”
Eleni was his girlfriend, according to the Grove Hill rumor mill. From what I’d seen in the hallways between classes, it was easy to believe the rumors were true. But that wasn’t something I could ask my student or player. As his teacher and coach, I had to keep my boundaries—unless he came to me for advice.
One by one, more students joined us on the sidelines, some panting and out of breath, others fuming about getting out.
“Are we playing again, Mr. Schmidt?” Malik Carter asked, his tone eager.
“Do you think you can stay in the game longer this time?”
Malik gave me the “Come on, Coach, are you serious?” smirk and nodded confidently. He was our basketball team’s point guard—a smart, strategic player who always thought two steps ahead and saw the floor better than anyone in the state. He played on a travel team during the spring and summer and already had a select number of colleges recruiting him. Malik had a bright future and was a great kid to coach.
When one last student stood victorious, I blew the whistle before he had a chance to celebrate and told everyone to get on the line. They did so quickly.
“Count off: one, two, three, four.” Unfortunately, I had to watch each of the kids yell out their numbers, because you’d be shocked at who couldn’t follow directions or forgot which number came after three. “All right, if you are a one or three, stay here; twos and fours, go to the other end.”
“Coach, really?” Cutter groaned. “Now I can’t protect Eleni.”
“Very noble of you,” I told him, but I didn’t remind him that she’d lasted longer than he had in the last round. “Line up.”
For the most part, my classes went smoothly. The kids followed instructions and enjoyed coming to class. They used this time to burn off pent-up energy or let out some frustration. School wasn’t easy—not even when I was a student. Teachers could be tough, and classes were often challenging. Since graduating with my degree in physical education, I’d made it my goal to create a safe space where students could express themselves.
Like last time, I lined the rubber balls up along the mid-court line, walked off to the side, and blew my whistle. I watched, my head moving back and forth, as kids aimed for their classmates.
They jumped, ducked, and dodged flying balls, hollering excitedly when they got one of their classmates out, and groaning when they didn’t see the round orb coming toward them from the side. It was usually the smaller, sneakier kids who prevailed. They tended to be quicker and often used the taller students to hide behind until they were the last ones standing.
Jayden Torres threw his arms up in victory when he was the last one remaining. With him standing five foot nine, he’d completely shot down my theory of the smaller, faster student. His speed and agility played a factor, though. Jayden was one of the fastest kids in the state, having won the state title in the one hundred, two hundred, and four hundred. He’d told me once that he ran track for fun, but basketball was where his heart was.
He came to the sideline and was congratulated by his classmates. I knew that outside of here, the students didn’t always get along, but during gym class, I stressed the importance of teamwork. I never wanted anyone to feel as if they didn’t belong or didn’t have a partner in class. There was nothing worse than seeing a kid struggle in PE.
With five minutes to go before the bell rang, I excused the kids to go and get changed. My other counterparts often kept their classes until a minute before, but I never saw the reasoning. I never wanted the kids to feel rushed to change and make it to their next class.
After I’d excused them, I went out into the hall and stood between the two locker room doors. I’d asked the kids many times to wait in the locker room until the bell had sounded, and while most did as I asked, a few of them didn’t.
The door to the boys’ locker room opened, and Cutter appeared. I gave him a quizzical look. He smiled sheepishly.
“What can I do for you, Mr. Vaughn?”
“What time do we have to be at the game?”
Cutter tried to be subtle as he looked over his shoulder at the other door. My guess was that Eleni would be coming out shortly so they could do what teenagers did at this age—make out.
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling or laughing, needing to maintain a straight face. This boy knew exactly what time he needed to be at the gym tonight for the game. And when the door to the girls’ locker room opened and Eleni stuck her head out, I knew I was right in my assumption.
“Ms. Chen,” I said, giving her a nod. She blushed, ducked back inside, and closed the door.
I glanced at Cutter, who suddenly had a fascination with the floor. I didn’t know much about the Vaughn household, but I suspected Cutter’s father wasn’t in the picture. Being a meddler had never been my forte because I respected people’s privacy. I feared, though, that Cutter needed a male role model, someone to guide him through these building hormones.
“If you ever need to talk, my office door is always open,” I told him. “You can also text me.”
He nodded. “Thanks, Coach.”
The bell rang, saving us both from any awkwardness. I watched as the kids filed out of the locker rooms, but I mostly kept my attention on Cutter and Eleni. High school was already hard enough, but adding in teenage hormones made life seem like hell. I remembered, all too well, my first girlfriend, who eventually became my wife. I shuddered to think what our children would’ve been like if we’d had any. We would’ve ended up being the kind of parents who said, “Do as we say, not as we do.”
I continued to stand in the hall, monitoring the students as they made their way to their next classes. Locker doors slapped, voices carried, and current and former kids said hi as they walked by. I had to issue a few warnings about roughhousing in the hall, but overall, the transition from one class to another was easy.
Generally, I gave the kids three minutes to get changed and be on the court for class. This was the time I stopped in my office, checked my phone for any important texts, and used the teachers-only bathroom. If all went as planned, my next class would be in the gym when I came out.
Class after class went off without any issues. Everyone enjoyed a relaxing day of dodgeball. Did the game have any purpose? Not really, but the students enjoyed it, and it was one of those games that allowed you to let out a ton of energy. It was better than running, in my opinion. And it was nice to break away from the curriculum every now and again.
I finished up my attendance reports for the day, late as usual, and shut my light off. I would be back in a couple of hours for tonight’s basketball game.
This was my third year coaching varsity basketball, and the only reason I had the job was that the former coach had walked off the court, mid-game, three years ago. I was the assistant at the time, filling space during the winter months while I waited for baseball season to start.
My first year as head coach was rocky, and we lost all but three or four games. The next year had been marginally better, but this year had been vastly different.
The Grove Hill Timberwolves were undefeated.
At the core, this team had heart and determination. They played well together, worked as a team, and were never hard on one another. If one boy struggled, the others stepped up.
Tonight, they faced a crosstown rival. Between the two teams, most of the boys knew each other because they all played travel ball together. They were friends until they stepped onto the court.
In hours, the stands would be filled with parents, friends, and family, and the student section would come to life. Cheerleaders would guide their classmates in cheers while the Timberwolves played to packed stands.
It was games like tonight that electrified me as a coach and them as players. The gym would be loud, with students standing up the entire game. Nothing excited me more than looking into the stands to see the signs people had made or those fat heads that parents had printed off. Although some of them were rather scary looking.
As I headed out of my office and toward the parking lot, I saw my favorite student with his arm leaning against a pole with his girlfriend next to him. Cutter was smooth, I’d give him that, but I feared he’d find himself in a situation he wasn’t ready to be in.
“See you tonight, Mr. Vaughn. Five thirty,” I reminded him as I walked by. He had a ton of potential to take his game to the next level, and I wasn’t about to see him throw it away.
I was in a damned-if-you-do, damned-if-you-don’t situation. As much as I wanted Cutter, along with my other students, to succeed, it wasn’t my business. The last thing I wanted was to be told I was overstepping. All I could do was offer an ear and some sage advice if he asked.
I hoped like hell he’d ask.
Chapter 3
Antonia
My stomach clenched as I pulled into the hospital parking lot. I told myself there was nothing seriously wrong with Miri because this wasn’t some state-of-the-art hospital. Honestly, it was nothing compared to the medical facilities we had in Boston. If Miri was truly sick, I would have packed her things and moved her and the kids to my place.
I walked through the lobby with my phone pressed to my ear, acting like I owned the place. My ankle-length peacoat flowed behind me as I undid my scarf. “Hey, what floor and what room?” I asked as soon as Miri answered.
“Five,” she said, her voice hoarse. I prayed it was just from lack of sleep and nothing more.
It couldn’t possibly be anything else.
I jabbed my finger repeatedly against the elevator button, knowing full well it wouldn’t make the car arrive any faster. Still, it felt satisfying to do it.
“Okay, I’m on my way,” I said before hanging up just as the elevator door opened. I stepped inside, pushed the button for the fifth floor, and then pressed the door-hold button for someone shouting, “Hold the door!”
A doctor stepped in, slightly out of breath. He smiled kindly at me but didn’t press a button for a floor. “Thank you,” he said with a nod. “Sometimes these elevators are so slow.”
“Yeah,” I replied, unsure of what else to say.
He rocked back on his heels and whistled quietly. Here I was, my heart threatening to beat right out of my chest, and this man, who was probably tasked with saving people’s lives, didn’t seem to have a care in the world.
“Are those comfortable?” I nodded toward his blue scrubs. “I’ve always wondered.”
He smiled, and I wondered if it was his normal, everyday smile or a practiced one. “They are. I tend to wear them even when I’m not doing my rounds.”
I nodded, remembering what rounds were from the Grey’s Anatomy marathons Miri and I would watch. Of course, as soon as I thought back to the many nights we’d sat on the couch, eating popcorn or ice cream, I instantly wanted to ask the fine doctor next to me if what we’d seen on the show was accurate. Was he hooking up with his coworkers in the break rooms?
Instead, I asked, “What’s on the fifth floor?”
He met my gaze, and his demeanor changed. Gone was the sweet smile, replaced by sadness. Before he could tell me what I faced, the doors opened. He nodded and stepped off, leaving me no choice but to follow.
My feet moved slowly as my eyes scanned each room number, studying the three digits as if I couldn’t comprehend them on sight. When I came to Miri’s room, I stood in the hallway, staring at the curtain surrounding her bed. My best friend was in there, waiting on me. She would give me news that my gut told me wouldn’t be good.
With a deep breath, I cleared my throat, stepped in, and walked around the curtain with my brightest smile on my face. I had a role to play, an expectation. I was the happy-go-lucky bestie who didn’t stress about anything but work.
Miri was on her side in a half-fetal position, hooked up to monitors. I ignored them and set my purse on the table before sitting down on the edge of the bed.
“Hey, bish. What’s up? Flu bug?”
Miri’s eyes watered instantly, and what was left of my heart fell to the ground. I scooted closer to her and ran my fingers over her light-brown hair. Her hazel eyes never left mine. Miri and I had the same eye color, with mine being a smidge darker.
“What’s wrong?” I kept my voice low and barely above a whisper, afraid it would crack.
“I have cancer,” she said, matching my tone.
I nodded and bit my lower lip, and I didn’t even bother trying to fight the tears. “Okay.” It took me a minute or two to get my thoughts together. “We can fight this. Right? We’re a strong team.”
Miri reached for my hand and held it tightly. “I can fight this.”
“And win,” I added. If anything, we had to remain positive. “I guess the first thing we need to do is get you transferred to Boston. I’ll make some calls.”
“I can’t go to Boston.”
“What, why not? Don’t be silly. Boston has the best doctors. You’re not staying here.”
“The kids have school, Toni. I can’t take them out of school.”
Shit.
I nodded. I hadn’t forgotten about them, but I’d definitely forgotten about the logistics of schooling. “I’ll figure it out, Miri. But you have to know I won’t stop at anything to get you the absolute best care. You and I both know it’s not here.”
“I know,” she said quietly.
“Are you in pain?”
“Not really.”
“Scoot over,” I told her as I maneuvered my way onto her bed and held her in my arms. This was better for both of us. She didn’t have to see my tears or the fear I was certain my eyes held. “How’d you find out?”
“I had my annual exam last week, and my doctor found a couple of lumps. She sent me for an MRI, and the radiologist didn’t like what he saw, so they admitted me while they ran more tests. I didn’t want to do anything until I knew more.”
I leaned back. “So, you may not even have cancer?”
She gave me a slight shrug.
“Bish, can you be any more dramatic?”
“I could try,” she said, laughing.
We were quiet for a moment, the situation heavily weighing on us. If they wanted to run more tests, then something was wrong. I felt this deeply.
“Are the kids at school?”
“Yeah,” she said quietly.
“Do they know you’re here?”
She shook her head. “Cutter has a game tonight.”
I looked at my watch and saw the time. He was probably on his way home from school.
“How long do you have to stay?”
“They said overnight.”
“Okay.”
Overnight. I wasn’t a doctor, but even I knew that staying overnight for tests was rarely a good sign.
I held her tighter as my mind shifted back and forth from saving her to protecting her kids. The only family Miri and the kids had was me and mine. Her family had kicked her out of the house when they found out she was pregnant at seventeen.
“I’m going to call my mom and have her drive up,” I told Miri. “This way I can be with you, and she can help with Cutter and Nova.”
Miri nodded against my chest. I felt her tears wet my shirt.
“Everything’s going to be okay, Miri. I’ll make sure of it.”
Reluctantly, I had to leave Miri at the hospital. It was the last thing I wanted to do, but she needed me to get Nova off the bus, or the driver wouldn’t let her off, and they’d start calling Miri, asking where she was.
We agreed I wouldn’t tell the kids their mother was in the hospital, at least for tonight. The ruse would be that Miri had an out-of-town client she had to help with their books. I told her it was unlikely the kids would buy the lousy excuse, but since it was the middle of January, Miri felt they would, since tax season was right around the corner.
While I sat in the car and waited, I pressed my mother’s name on my phone and waited for the video chat to connect. Before my mom came on the screen, my emotions got the best of me.
“What’s wrong and why are you in the car?”
“I’m at Miri’s,” I managed to squeeze out as my throat seized. “She’s sick, Mom. I don’t know how sick but sick enough they’re keeping her overnight in the hospital and . . .” I couldn’t bring myself to say the C word. Deep down, I figured if I never had to say it, then it wouldn’t come true. I wouldn’t be putting it out there in the universe for it to be real.
I glanced out the window, at the snow-covered yard, and took a deep shuddering breath. “Mom.”
“I’ll be up tomorrow,” she said without hesitation.
I nodded, unable to find my voice as tears streamed down my face. My reflection in the camera had me wiping angrily at my cheeks, removing my streaked and smeared makeup before the kids saw me.
“I love you, Mom.”
“And I love you. Whatever this is with Miriam, we’ll make sure she’s taken care of.”
We hung up, and those final words from my mom lingered in my mind. My parents were one of a kind and had the biggest hearts. From the time Miri was seventeen, my parents had made sure she knew they always had her back.
The rumble of the yellow school bus, caked with mud from the road, caught my attention as it pulled up in front of the dirt driveway. I got out and walked briskly to the edge of the driveway, waving to the driver. She opened the door cautiously.
“Who are you?” She was blunt, which I appreciated. I wouldn’t want any kid getting off the bus with a stranger.
“I’m Nova Vaughn’s aunt,” I told her as I tried to look in the bus for Nova. “I’m on the pickup list.” The driver turned slightly as Nova approached. Her face lit up when she saw me.
“Stay there, Nova. I need to call this in.”
I smiled at her. “How was school?”
Nova shrugged and tossed me her backpack. It was light, except for the metal lunch box she insisted on carrying. Last summer, when we went school shopping, Miri and I pointed out all these cool insulated lunch bags, but Nova wouldn’t have it. She wanted to use Miri’s Wonder Woman lunch box. Miri and I had the same one in first grade, but mine was long gone. How she’d managed to keep hers all these years was beyond me.
