DURING THE FIRST two weeks of practice, Rachel worked hard every day. Most days she was on the court shooting before practice. She finished first on the ladder sprints, and she listened to her coaches. All her hard work earned her a spot with the starting lineup in the first scrimmage of the season.
Normally, she would be excited—even nervous—about the scrimmage and the opportunity to prove herself. But it was Veteran’s Day—a day where her focus was on her father, not basketball.
For as long as Rachel could remember, Veteran’s Day had been a tense and dark day. Papa and Nana believed in celebrating the day as a tribute to the bravery and sacrifice of their son, but Rachel didn’t see the rituals of the day as celebrating—more like mourning. Robbie Brandt was the center of the conversation and the focus of a day that included rituals like looking through photo albums, reading his letters, and visiting his grave. On Veteran’s Day, the Brandt family recognized the life and death of her father.
Rachel trudged through the school day. During class, she brainstormed ways to get out of celebrating Veteran’s Day, knowing there was no way out of one of the day’s rituals: a trip to the cemetery before the basketball scrimmage.
Rachel pushed through the crowd of students at the end of the school day. She needed to be at the gym at five for the scrimmage. With a half-hour drive to the cemetery and another half-hour drive to return to school, it was a tight window, but Papa and Nana had assured Rachel they would get her back on time.
Papa and Nana were waiting by the door when Rachel arrived home. She hurried upstairs, changed into her basketball clothes, and packed up her shoes and practice jersey. Her stomach was rumbling on her way out, so she swiped a granola bar on the way to Papa’s truck.
The half-hour car ride to the cemetery passed in silence. Rachel watched the landscape turn from neighborhoods of tightly packed houses to a sprawl of fields and farms. Papa didn’t slow down as the road winded up and down, left and right. By the time they arrived at the cemetery, Rachel was grateful her granola bar had stayed in her stomach.
The rush of cool, fresh air soothed Rachel’s stomach. The cemetery was quiet; she guessed the cold day kept people away this Veteran’s Day. They walked to her father’s grave in the veterans’ section of the cemetery to start their rituals. All the graves in the section were decorated with flowers, and many had American flags.
First, Nana placed white lilies on the grave, and Papa placed a small American flag next to the lilies. All three sat in silence for a few minutes. Papa broke the silence by thanking his son for his service to his country. Nana and Rachel followed his lead. Nana closed with a prayer. When Nana finished praying, she and Rachel returned to the truck. Papa stayed at his son’s grave. When he stood up, his face was flushed. Rachel took his place.
Rachel sat on the grass next to her father’s grave. She looked at the clouds in the sky and wondered if her father watched over her like her grandparents always said. She had a hard time believing them. The questions began circling in her head. What if my father had come home from the war? What if I’d grown up in a normal family? Would I be happier with a mother and a father? The questions that plagued her mind on Veteran’s Day were the worst kind of questions—questions with no answers.
She felt the emotion of it all rising in her chest. She couldn’t let the questions get the best of her. Not right now. There was too much at stake with basketball. She got up and walked back to the car.
Nana walked to the grave and blew a kiss before returning to the truck. Rachel looked at her watch. Time to go. She looked at Papa; he nodded. Without saying a word, they got into the car. They had forty minutes to get to Eastbrook High.
“Papa, we need to get back,” Rachel said.
“I know,” he said. He buckled his seat belt and started the truck.
“I can’t be late today.” Rachel looked to Nana for assistance, but she was staring ahead and ignoring the conversation.
“It will be fine. Besides, this is important, even more important than basketball,” he said.
“Whatever you say,” Rachel whispered.
The tires screeched as Papa turned out of the cemetery. Rachel held in her laughter. Not many grandfathers peeled out of a parking lot, especially a cemetery parking lot.
The basketball scrimmage started poorly. On the first offensive possession, Rachel passed the basketball straight to the other team. She cursed under her breath and sprinted back on defense, attempting to stop the fast break. It was too late; the other team converted an easy lay-up.
The play shook Rachel’s confidence. From that play forward, she played in a restrained and cautious manner and focused on passing the ball to her teammates. She didn’t commit another turnover, but she didn’t score any points or produce anything spectacular for the coaches to remember. At the five-minute mark, she took a seat on the bench. She sat quietly, ignoring her teammates’ praises for her play.
Rachel took the time on the sidelines to regroup. As she studied the other team, she forgot her mistakes, the day, her father. She noticed the gaps in their zone defense. She observed the point guard favor her right hand. She watched the post players play defense behind Eastbrook’s posts, leaving a carefully placed bounce pass open to her posts. Her confidence grew; Rachel was ready.
She saw an open seat on the sideline next to Coach Myers. She moved, signaling to Coach that she was ready to return to play. But he motioned for her to sit. It wasn’t her time yet; she understood.
The game play of scrimmages was different from a typical game. The coaches stopped the scrimmage at any moment for fouls, substitutions, or to rerun plays. The teams played quarters, but quarter was a loose term. The scrimmage was at least six quarters instead of four, and the time for the quarters varied. In addition, the coaches played different rotations of players to give all the girls some playing time on the court.
Rachel substituted into the game at the start of the third quarter with the rest of the starting five. Her aggressive play pushed the offensive tempo in Eastbrook’s favor. She fed the ball to her post players, who converted the passes into points. She forced the opposing point guard to dribble left, disrupting their offense. But Rachel’s favorite moment of the scrimmage came late in the quarter. She used a slight hesitation dribble to get past her defender into the paint. When the defense collapsed on her to stop the lay-up, Rachel passed to her teammate Shaina, who was wide open behind the three-point arc. Shaina nailed the three-pointer. Rachel smiled and high-fived Shaina on her jog back into defensive position. She played well the remainder of the scrimmage and walked off the court with a bounce in her step.
Rachel had the television on, but she didn’t watch it. Instead she focused on watching the minutes pass on the clock. Brent was picking her up at 1:00 p.m. They were celebrating their six-month anniversary, but Rachel was in the dark as to the plans for the day.
At a quarter to one, Rachel heard a car door slam. She sprang up and opened the front door. Brent stood there with a big grin and held a single yellow rose. He wore a black sweater that accented his toned body and brought out the color of his blue eyes.
“Happy anniversary!” Brent gave her a quick kiss on her cheek.
“You’re early!” she replied.
“You are lucky I didn’t show up at ten a.m.! I was ready to go then. By the way, you look great.”
Rachel wore a simple red sweater and dark blue jeans, but she’d actually done her hair and put on some makeup.
“You’re crazy.” She turned away from him for a moment and yelled to Papa and Nana in the kitchen. “See you later!” They walked to Brent’s car with his arm wrapped around her.
The car ride was a riddle for Rachel. They headed for downtown Cleveland, but Brent wouldn’t say a word about their destination, even with Rachel’s constant guesses. Eventually, they arrived at University Circle and parked in a garage attached to the Cleveland Botanical Gardens. Brent led her out of the garage, but instead of turning toward the garden’s entrance, he took her in the opposite direction. They walked around the perimeter of Wade Oval, a seven-acre park in the middle of the city where, in a few weeks, Wade Oval would morph into a holiday destination with Christmas lights and an outdoor ice-skating rink.
Brent stopped in front of the Cleveland Museum of Art on Wade Oval. They stood in front of a pathway of steps, which led to a large, white, stone building with four columns. The building seemed out of place in Cleveland. She thought it belonged in Washington DC.
Rachel spun around and kissed Brent. “I love the art museum!” she said. “And I haven’t been here since the renovations.”
“I take it this was a good idea.” Brent smiled and kissed her. They walked up the steps through the grand glass doors.
Rachel and Brent spent the afternoon wandering the halls of the art museum. They laughed at the creepy expressions of people in some of the paintings. Rachel spent the most time in the Impressionist section. She loved the Impressionist paintings with the short, thick brush strokes that caught the essence of the subject, ignoring the details. In the contemporary art section, Brent poked fun at the metal molded into various shapes. In contrast, the vivid colors in the photography section wowed Brent and Rachel. Rachel was most in awe of the Atrium, the latest renovation at the museum. The Atrium was an enclosed courtyard in the center of the museum. The open space connected the sections of the museums while keeping the visitors out of the elements. Benches were placed next to small gardens, and the light filtered through the glass roof, creating soft shadows. They sat talking on a bench in the middle of the Atrium until an announcement was made that the museum was closing in ten minutes.
“We’d better get going,” Brent said.
“What’s next?” asked Rachel. They walked out of the art museum toward the parking garage.
“Dinner,” he replied.
“Where’s dinner?”
“You’ll see.” They walked into the garage, located Brent’s car, and drove back to the highway. Rachel figured they were going back to Eastbrook–to the Mad Apple. She knew her guess was wrong when Brent got off the interstate two exits early. He turned into Otani, a Japanese hibachi steakhouse.
Brent and Rachel’s personal chef introduced himself as Fred. Rachel and Brent laughed, thinking his name couldn’t be Fred, especially with his heavy Japanese accent. Fred sprayed the grill with oil and threw a match, setting the grill on fire for a few seconds. After bringing their drinks, Fred took their dinner orders and started cooking in front of them.
Rachel and Brent enjoyed the food, but they loved Fred. He cracked jokes while launching cooked veggies and meat at Brent and Rachel.
“Dessert for the lovely couple?” asked Fred.
“Not tonight,” answered Brent before Rachel could respond. “Just the check please.” Fred nodded and walked away.
“Don’t worry, we have one more stop,” said Brent.
“Oh, good. My dessert shelf is empty,” Rachel said.
“Your what?” Brent asked.
“My dessert shelf. It’s a shelf in my stomach that can only be filled with desserts,” she said. Brent shook his head and laughed.
“You can fill your dessert shelf soon.”
The last stop of the day was their favorite ice cream shop, Scooters. They ordered their favorites—Mint Cookies and Cream for Rachel and Peanut Butter Cup for Brent.
Over their ice creams, Rachel and Brent reminisced about the past six months and the fun outings they’d shared together. During the summer, they had picnicked in the park or on the beach many days. They’d spent a day together at the zoo; Rachel had even tagged along for Brent’s family vacation to the Outer Banks in North Carolina.
“We always have fun together. No matter what we are doing, we always have a good time. That’s how I know we are meant to be together,” Brent said.
“Yeah, it’s true, we do have fun together.” Rachel’s heart was beating faster.
“You know that I love you, right?” Brent took her hand and looked into her eyes.
Alarms sounded in Rachel’s head. Her heart was on overdrive. She stared at the table, afraid to look at Brent. She wanted to say “I love you, too,” but she couldn’t. She opened her mouth to say something, but at that moment, Brent leaned over and kissed her.