Quicks by Kevin Waltman

Author:Kevin Waltman
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781941026632
Publisher: Cinco Puntos Press
Published: 2017-03-07T16:00:00+00:00

Christmas isn’t what it used to be. And I don’t mean we don’t get fun stuff and get all hyped about Santa and wake up at the break of dawn to rip open the presents under the tree. No. That’s been gone for years. I mean, this time nobody’s even in a good mood.

Mom and Dad sit on the couch, Grace tucked into Dad’s arm. They both look half-dead after another night where they got just a few hours of sleep. At this point, Grace’s cries don’t keep me up—I just kind of register them for a few seconds and then go right back to sleep. But Mom and Dad are hurting.

Uncle Kid? Last year he was throwing around all his ill-gotten dough, fixing me up with choice Pacer tickets. This year he’s fidgeting, embarrassed that all he could afford were some gift certificates for me and Jayson. Plus, he still can’t look me in the eye. I tried when I saw him this morning. Gave him a Sorry, man and a Merry Christmas. But he just said Yeah and shuffled past me to get a cup of coffee.

At least Jayson isn’t in a bad mood. He’s just kind of neutral. He organizes his small stack of gifts in the corner. Then, when nobody seems up for anything else, he reaches for the remote on the table. “Shhhh,” Mom and Dad both say in unison. When Jayson looks their way, they both point to Grace sleeping. “Well, do you mind if I just chill in my room then?” he whispers.

Dad waves him on in permission. Which means I’m stuck out here with everyone else. Sure, I could go back too. But I don’t want to crowd him on Christmas morning. I head for the kitchen. Instead of a big Christmas feast like some people have, we’ve got a cooling pot of coffee and some donuts Kid bought yesterday. In the fridge, there are fixings for turkey sandwiches. That’s about it. I close the fridge again and grab a donut. I sit at the kitchen table. It seems wrong somehow. All of it. I guess maybe when I make it to The L I’ll be styling all the time. Serious blow-outs on holidays. A personal chef instead of stale donuts. But who am I kidding? I’m back to being bumped from the point guard spot at Marion East—just like I was a freshman again. If I can’t even run the one-spot here, then how am I ever gonna make it to the NBA? Even if the schools offering me still take me as a two-guard, I’m too small—even at 6’4"—to run at two in The League.

I look out the window and see some Christmas snow falling. It starts to stick on the roof of the house next door. Their curtains are drawn, but I bet behind there, things are better. I’ve never thought that about any other house on the block before. But here? Kid’s still icing me out. So are my teammates.

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