For The Love Of The Game

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The weight of my meeting with the lawyer came down on me, like the wind at the edge of a cliff.

I felt like one of those boxes at the bottom of the pile in my dream. I wondered how long it would take before it all came crumbling down.

_____________________

Patron and pineapple juice.

It was the first drink that I shared with my father when I turned twenty-one. My first drink as far as he knew. Ever since, it became my favorite. Every time I drank it, I was swept into the past and brought back to that moment of happiness.... Just my dad and me, sharing a drink.

Currently, I sat in the same chair I did three years ago, enjoying my favorite drink, but this time without my father.

I came here when I felt like I couldn't handle life, and watched the stars. The alcohol soothed my raging emotions, dulling them until I could pretend everything was okay. The night sky on the other hand, made all my problems insignificant. Compared to the vastness and grandeur of the universe, no problem was too big.

I took another sip and ice smacked into my teeth. I grunted and got up from my seat, set on getting another. The world spinned and I grabbed the chair for a second. With my best 'I am not drunk' walk, I swayed my way to the bartender.

The people in the background, nothing but black figures against the brown walls.

"Can I get another Patron with pineapple, please?" I asked.

I sat on the stool and surveyed the bar. The events of my meeting with the lawyer replayed over and over in my head.

"Hello Ms. Diaz, please come in," Mr. Swayney said from behind his large mahogany desk.

His office was the definition of pristine. There were books and file cabinets everywhere, supplementing the high scholar atmosphere of the room. The space was alloyed with various rare items. I always wondered how he obtained them. I guess it made sense he could afford such a luxurious office with how much he charged me.

I walked in and sat in front of the exaggeratedly large desk. "Hello Mr. Swayney, you said you received the answer to my parents' appeal."

My heart dropped to the bottom of my stomach and constricted from the uncomfortable expression on his face.

"Yes, Ms. Diaz. I'm afraid the appeal was denied."

His mouth continued to move, but my dazed mind could not make sense of his words.

"Miss Diaz."

"Miss Diaz, did you understand what I said?"

"Huh?"

"I'm afraid the appeal was denied, but that doesn't mean we can't try again."

Just hold it in. "Umm, did they give any reason?"

"They determined that there is no urgent need for them to return as your underaged siblings are under the care of a capable family relative." The implication of his words struck me. Broke me.

What the fucking fuck? Was I seriously being punished for properly caring for my younger brothers?

"So what? I have to be a crappy sister for my parents to be able to come back?" My words came out venomous.

"Look Miss Diaz, I am going to level with you. We can try to apply again and hope we get a nicer judge. But to be frank, unless we make the situation of your younger siblings appear more dire, it will most likely be denied" He paused, contemplating his next words "but doing so would be a dangerous road, it could attract the eyes of CPS, which could put your custody of your younger brothers at risk."

A scream choked me from within.

"So? What should I do?"

I felt lost.

"I can't tell you what to do Miss. Diaz, I can only advise you. I know that the thought of caring for your brothers for the next nine years is daunting. I also know that losing your brothers would not be the outcome you would want. I think you should take some time. We don't have to decide on the appeal now. You should consider all the outcomes and decide how much you want to risk."

"Riley, your drink is ready." The bartender's voice snapped me out of my daze.

My eyes focused on Noah.

He sat across the bar, a concerned look decorating his handsome face. There were two girls in front of him; one attempted to regain his attention by essentially trying to smother him with her balloons.

I quickly turned back around, happy to see the bartender holding my drink.

"Hey Riley, are you okay?" he asked. His concerned look confused me.

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

He pointed to my face. Following the direction of his fingers, I placed my fingertips against my cheek and met something wet. When did I start to cry? I rubbed my face, clearing it of any trace of tears.

"Oh yes, just some allergies. See you later, Jones."

I slid a $20 bill across the counter, grabbed my drink, and rushed back out to the balcony. Luckily the cold kept almost everyone inside, giving me a quiet place to compose myself.

I sat down on the same chair as before and let myself gaze at the stars once more.

"Do you mind if I join you?" came a deep and calm voice from behind me.