The Crossover

There are so many friends

neighbors, Dad’s teammates,

and family members

packed into our living room

that I have to go outside

just to breathe. The air

is filled with laughter,

John Coltrane,

Jay-Z, and the smell

of salmon, plus scents of

every pie and cake

imaginable.

Even Mom is smiling.

Josh, don’t you hear the phone

ringing? she says.

I don’t—the sound of

“A Love Supreme”

and loud laughter

drowning it out.

Can you get it, please? she asks me.

I answer it, a salmon sandwich

crammed in my mouth.

Hello, Bell residence, I mutter.

Hi, this is Alexis.

Oh . . . Hey.

I’m sorry I couldn’t be at the funeral.

This is Josh, not JB.

I know it’s you, Filthy. JB is loud.

Your phone voice always sounds like

it’s the break of dawn,

like you’re just waking up,

she says playfully.

I laugh for the first time in days.

I just wanted to call and say how sorry

I am for your loss. If there is anything my dad or I can do,

please let us know.

Look, Alexis, I’m sorry about—

It’s all good, Filthy. I gotta go, but

my sister has five tickets

to see Duke play North Carolina.

Me, her, JB, and my dad

are going.

You wanna—

ABSOLUTELY, I say, and THANKS,

right before Coach Hawkins

comes my way

with outstretched arms and

a bear-size hug, sending the phone

crashing to the floor.

On my way out the door,

to get some fresh air,

Mom gives me

a kiss and a piece of

sweet potato pie with

two scoops of vanilla soy

ice cream.

Where’s your brother? she asks.

I haven’t seen JB

since the funeral, but

if I had to guess, I’d say

he’s going to see Alexis.

Because, if I had a girlfriend, I’d be

off with her right about now.

But I don’t,

so the next best thing

will have to do.