Can’t Hurt Me_ Master Your Mind and Defy the Odds @betweencovers

With Wilmoth
She laughed when they were together. Her smile was bright and real. She stood
up a little straighter. He gave her pride and made her feel beautiful again. As for
me, Wilmoth became as close to a healthy father figure as I’ve ever had. He
didn’t coddle me. He didn’t tell me he loved me or any of that fake-ass sappy
shit, but he was there. Basketball had been an obsession of mine since grade
school. It was the core of my relationship with my best friend, Johnny Nichols,
and Wilmoth had game. He and I hit the courts together all the time. He showed
me moves, tuned up my defensive discipline, and helped me develop a jump
shot. The three of us celebrated birthdays and holidays together, and the summer
before eighth grade, he got down on one knee and asked my mother to make it
official.
Wilmoth lived in Indianapolis, and our plan was to move in with him the
following summer. Though he wasn’t nearly as rich as Trunnis, he made a nice
living and we looked forward to city life again. Then in 1989, the day after
Christmas, everything stopped.
We hadn’t made the full time move to Indy yet, and he’d spent Christmas Day
with us at my grandparents’ place in Brazil. The next day, he had a basketball
game in his men’s league and he’d invited me to sub for one of his teammates. I
was so excited I’d packed my bags two days early, but that morning he told me I
couldn’t come after all.
“I’m gonna keep you back here this time, Little David,” he said. I dropped my
head and sighed. He could tell I was upset and tried to reassure me. “Your mom
is gonna drive up in a few days and we can play ball then.”
I nodded, reluctantly, but I wasn’t raised to pry into the affairs of adults and
knew I wasn’t owed an explanation or make-up game. My mother and I watched
from the front porch as he backed out of the carport, smiled, and gave us that
crisp single wave of his. Then he drove off.
It was the last time we’d ever see him alive.
He played in his men’s league game that night, as planned, and drove home
alone to the “house with the white lions.” Whenever he gave directions to