Swish

.39

My mind strayed to my mother and the suffocating, overwhelming and booming rush of voices and applause ceased to exist. 

It was only me and my mom, two peas in a pod.  Her bright golden light outshone the dark that tired to take me down. 

My heels clicked against the concrete until suddenly the floor turned into the waxed and polished court.  Shawna gave me a reassuring smile and handed me a black microphone. 

I still hadn't looked up, but a few of the ridiculously tall and grotesquely rich basketball players had given me head nods, and I recognized a few of them as old friends of my father.  They were showing me respect because of his death, but they didn't know that I was only sad he'd died while not in prison paying for his sins. 

"Alright, here's your mark.  Try not to take any steps, just keep your feet firmly planted and when you're done, stand still, look at the flag with a smile and after thirty seconds, walk off to your left and we'll usher you back to the green room.  Good luck."

Why did it feel like she was sending me off to war?  

"Cameras will be on you the second the announcers start speaking."

My stomach was in a mess of knots, my heart doing somersaults in my chest, but still I gripped tight to that golden shimmering memory of my mother, images of her holding my hand somehow getting me through this, one step at a time. 

I looked up. 

Obviously I couldn't see Eli, but I pretended he was right in front of me, watching me hold the mic in one hand and my mother's in another.  

My grandparents were up there somewhere, Yona cheering me on no doubt.  I pictured myself doing this, but with Eli's father still alive and it was Eli's first All Star game.  

Maybe his dad had found someone better than his mom, and my mom had left my dad for someone better, too.  They were all in the stands cheering for me before Eli took to the court, but not before giving me a kiss before I was taken to the stands to watch him play. 

Maybe there'd even be a ring on my finger. 

The announcer's voice boomed through the stadium and there was a light spattering of applause before the classic rendition of the national anthem began ringing out all around me. 

It wasn't hard to remember the lyrics, and I hit my cue immediately, voice traipsing through notes and sticking closer to the original version to not cause any controversy. 

A swelling began in my chest, the emotion lacing through the words as the power came out in my voice, and I found myself changing my delivery of the vocal halfway through, pushing out my long belting notes where previously I'd switched them to soft falsetto. 

By the time the rockets red glared, I was officially an octave higher than I'd practiced, but I wouldn't know if it was a good or bad decision until the final note, so I went all in.  I gave it my absolute all, no holding back. 

My mother squeezed my hand as I threw my head back and tilted the microphone up, and Eli's imaginary new parents screamed so loud I could hear them. 

The engagement ring glinted against the harsh, blinding lights as I soared through the land of the free, and by the time I was in the home of the brave, my mind almost made me believe that it was all real. 

That my mother was really there by my side, smile bright as her golden energy flowed around her and pulsed her dark hair in waves on her shoulders.  That Eli's family was intact, that he was with me and happy, that we were engaged and everything was as it should have been.