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Devi had known of Ben's love of basketball for years, but he wasn't sure that she had fully grasped why it was important to him until last week. They'd been playing in his driveway, which Devi had dubbed the "DIY court" because of its "bigass size." She'd had her hair in a sleek, bouncing ponytail and tried to fake him out poorly. Her dribbling skills were zero, and he wasn’t even sure that he could give her points for trying.
Ben liked Devi for a lot of reasons, but her athletic prowess certainly wasn't one of them.
But, still, it was fun.
And afterward, they'd gone up to his bedroom and plopped down onto Ben's bed. "I think my leg is going to explode," Devi said, her breathing heavy. "From all the running. What if my muscles spasm so hard that I never walk again? Ben, this is a very serious concern. Has anyone ever died of exercise?"
Ben rolled his eyes. "You're not dying. You just intentionally exercised for the second time in your life."
“Kill me now,” Devi said, rolling her face into Ben’s pillow.
He sidled up next to her and pat her shoulder kindly. “I can’t do that. For one thing, it’s illegal, and for another thing, it just sounds like a lot of unnecessary effort.”
“Ugh.” Devi turned over to face the plastic stars on Ben’s ceiling. It was too light out for them to glow, but he wondered if she was going to ask him about them anyway. There was undoubtedly a question on her candy-red lips. But when she spoke, it wasn’t about the stars; it was about other parts of his bedroom. “What’s that?” Her finger moved upward to point at a basketball in a case on top of Ben’s bookshelf.
“A basketball, obviously.” Ben’s voice was mocking. “Maybe all the exercise is making you blind, David.”
“No, dumbass,” Devi said, but there was no malice in her tone. Ben smirked at her. “I mean, why’s it there? Is there something special about it?”
“Yeah,” Ben said. “It’s signed by Kawahi Leonard. The Clippers’ forward. My dad shot hoops with him a couple of times. Great guy.”
“Oh, nice. And what’s with the jersey?”
Ben looked toward the other wall, debating how much to share. It felt weird to talk about his past with Howard, now… or, as the case may be, his past without Howard. They were hanging out more now; it was clear that the days of staring at the door waiting for a dad who never appeared were over, at least for now. To talk about his past failures and misdeeds felt somehow wrong, like it could damage the rich relationship tapestry that they were slowly starting to thread and weave.
And yet, this was Devi.
“My dad got it for me when I was a kid,” Ben told her. “He… he was supposed to take me to a game, like when I was fifteen. And he didn’t show up then, either. But he did come home with that jersey, and some insane story of how he bought it off their coach for several thousand dollars in a Game-of-Thrones-style auction battle.” He paused and shook his head. “I’m sure that he was lying to make me feel better now, but at the time it really cheered me up. I had Patty hang it on my wall for me, and moved it a couple of years later so I could see it better. It’s… I don’t know. It’s something I really care about for some reason.”
“Makes sense,” Devi said. She sat up and rested her head on his shoulder before looking up to meet his eyes. “Your dad got it for you. That counts for something. I have my dad’s old tennis racket hanging precariously on a nail on my wall.” She wove her arm through his, and her fingertips were warm when they met the back of his hand. “Besides, you’re a suspiciously sentimental dude.”
“I’m not sentimental,” Ben argued. “Also, sentimentality isn’t suspicious.”
“Please. You saved the boink card.”
“Yeah, because it was mine in the first place. You just returned it to me, its rightful owner. I can do what I want with it.”
“Hmm.” Devi sounded unconvinced. “But wait, the Clippers obsession is because of your dad?”
Ben considered this. “Maybe? I guess I never really thought about it.”
Devi snorted. “I’ll take that as a yes, then,” she said.
--
And now, after a week of mulling her words over, Ben decided that she was probably right.
--
Howard knocked on Ben’s door while he was sketching a bunch of grapes. For Ms Nuni’s class, of course- if it were up to him, he’d be staring at something way more interesting for hours on end. Landscapes, probably. Ben liked shading landscapes. But it was grapes or nothing, so he was erasing their awkward shadows one after the other while trying to get the entire bunch holistically correct.
Frustrated, he plopped the charcoal down hard as he called to his dad. “Come in.”
And Howard did.
Ben loved that, the way that Howard always asked for permission before coming into his space. He’d thought it was a confusing quirk at first, something that only Patty did. But since Howard had started doing it, he’d figured out that his mother was the anomaly. Most people apparently didn’t enter other people’s spaces uninvited and barrel through their things in search of their own items that they hadn’t seen in 5 years.
Howard sat gingerly on the edge of Ben’s bed. “What’re you drawing, Champ?”
“Grapes,” Ben said, gesturing to the still life. It looked horrible.
Howard squinted at the sketchpad. “It looks like a pinecone.”
They’d developed a rapport over this past year, one that was close enough for Howard to joke about Ben’s art.
He cracked a smile at Howard’s thoughtful gaze. “A pinecone could never look this good, but thank you for playing.”
Howard grunted. “Anyway, I came with a question.”
“About pinecones? Because I don’t have any. I think there might be some at Michael’s, though. The fake ones.”
“No,” Howard said. “I got courtside seats to the Clippers game next week from William. Do you… do you want to…”
“Go with you?”
Howard nodded, his eyes downcast.
Ben knew what he must be remembering. Last time they had agreed to go to a Clippers game with Ben’s girlfriend, Howard had completely stood Ben up. It had been one of the loneliest days of his life, one that ended with a weirdo in a pizza parlor. That night, Ben hadn’t cried, but he’d felt bitterly hollow in a way that he thought he should have been desensitized to.
Perhaps nothing could ever desensitize you to being ignored by your dad.
But, as Ben had learned from the King Lear audiobook last year, perhaps nothing also came of nothing. Because looking at Howard now, Ben knew that those days were firmly behind him, frozen like a dead fly in clouded amber. The present was livelier, brighter, vibrant and moving. “I’d love to come,” he said, his voice soft. “Thanks for asking me. It would be nice to… to go with you. For real.”
“And your girlfriend, too,” Howard said.
Ben raised an eyebrow. “You want me to invite Devi?”
“Well, I have three tickets. So unless you want to try inviting your mom again…”
“She’d never come.” Ben felt his fingers tapping against his pen as he thought of Vivian.
Howard chuckled. “No. She wouldn’t. So, yeah. Invite Devi. Game’s next Friday, 6 PM.”
--
And that’s how Ben found himself looking at Devi out of the corner of his eye as she adjusted her uncharacteristic sporty ponytail at the Crypto.com arena. “Did you know that the Clippers are moving to a new court next year?”
Devi smirked. “No, I didn’t, but I guess I’m going to hear all about it now, aren’t I?”
“No. I won’t tell you about the Intuit Dome and its 18,000 person capacity, and I definitely won’t tell you about all the legal negotiations my dad made to make it perfect for the entire population of LA.”
“The entire population of LA goes to Clippers games? Guess I gotta make sure my mom and Pati know that. I’m sure this is exactly their scene.”
Ben rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean.”
“I, for one, am enjoying my sports ball experience. Just so you know,” Devi said. “For one thing, I like that dude’s energy.” She pointed to John Wall, who was shooting extremely heavy pre-game practice shots that bounced hard off the backboard. “Lots of pent-up rage. Loving it. But for another thing, I got free cookies from your dad, so that’s a huge plus.”
“Oh, yeah,” Ben replied. “You’re a real ‘sports ball’ aficionado. In it for the cookies and everything.”
“It’s nice to see you here with your dad,” Devi said. “I like that, too.”
“You were lowkey worried he’d bail, weren’t you?”
“No,” Devi argued. “I was just… slightly concerned… that he might not appear… at the designated hour.”
Ben snorted. “Big difference there. But I’ve told you. Things are different now. Ever since my health issue-”
“Shit backup.”
“Health issue,” Ben repeated firmly, “He hasn’t disappointed me a single time. I don’t know. I really think that the worst is over.” Devi shot him a look. “What? We’ve turned over a new leaf. Sue me for experimenting with hope.”
“He cares about you,” she agreed. “I believe that. The night you got into Columbia, when we went to dinner and I first met him, I told you.”
“Yeah, and he cares even more now,” Ben said. “We go to the diner every Saturday. Tomorrow!” He tried to keep the excitement out of his voice, but it crept in anyway. Ben loved their unchanging routine. “And he’s never even been late. I believe in him.”
“Believe in what?” Howard said, plopping down on the other side of Ben.
“Nothing, Mr. Gross,” Devi said, eagerly taking another packet of cookies from Howard. “He just believes in that guy.” She nodded toward Wall again. “He’s gonna win the game or something. Right?”
“Well, I don’t know. He’s had his ups and downs,” Howard said. “A top point pick, sure, but when he doesn’t have it in him, he really flops. Kawahi, though, he never lets us down.”
“Yeah, Devi.” Ben matched Howard’s knowing tone. “Kawahi is the real MVP.”
Devi rolled her eyes. “Sorry I’m not some basketball expert like you guys.”
Howard chuckled, and Ben felt something in his chest warm. He really appreciated that Howard found Devi funny. His dad continued, “I don’t know if I’d say I’m an expert. I like to think of myself as more of a hobbyist.”
“I thought Ben said that you were helping to build the new court,” she said. “The… the…”
“She means the Intuit Dome,” Ben finished for her smugly.
“Yeah, Champ, I understood,” Howard said, and Devi shot Ben a winning look. He made a mocking face at her, hoping that Howard didn’t see this display of immaturity. “I didn’t have any say in building it, but I did negotiate on behalf of Tyronn for the Clippers’ use of the dome.”
“And won,” Ben said proudly.
Howard spread his hands out self-deprecatingly. “And won.”
“Nice,” Devi said, turning back to look around court. It would be obvious to everyone around them that she was a basketball noob, Ben thought, even if she’d worn a too-big Clippers jersey that she’d ordered off Amazon. It looked good on her in a weird way that Ben was trying not to think too hard about.
“So,” Ben said, turning to Howard. He gestured toward the bags in his dad’s hands. “What’d you get us besides the cookies that Devi stole?”
“Oh.” Howard opened one, pulling out three bottles of water. Ben stuck one on the floor next to Devi, who didn’t seem to be paying attention. “I also got these.” Howard pulled out three bags of Bugles. “Devi said that they’re her favorite chips once. I remembered. See? My mind is sharp as always, even if I’m almost 70.”
He handed Ben two bags, and he nudged Devi and handed her one. “Here you go, David. My dad got you these.”
Devi’s face brightened. “Bugles! My favorite.”
And they sat together like that, the three of them, as the game went on, Devi’s hand slipped into Ben’s while he and Howard cheered at things that she definitely did not understand.
In those moments, on that night, Ben felt a sense of peace.
He imagined later that it was something like the feeling of home.