“Yes. The answer is gonna be yes,” I say, getting a little annoyed.

“Sorry,” he says, his voice going soft. “It’s just hard to believe. If you’ve hated it for so long, why haven’t you just quit?”

“It’s not like I have anything better to do,” I say, feeling myself sulk like a six-year-old who just got put in time-out.

“What do mean? You’re interested in plenty of things.”

“Yeah, but I don’t have anything big to focus on.”

“Big?”

“Yeah, like a . . . a,” I say, the last word out of reach. It’s always felt so much greater than me, so far away. And lately it’s been worse, like it’s running from me as fast as it can. Like maybe I’ll never catch it.

Rex gently squeezes my waist, bringing me back into my body. And the shadowy trees behind him, the soft stream of light falling on their crowns, their limbs, the calls of invisible birds and insects, all seem to be telling me I’m wrong.

“A dream,” I say, feeling some of my panic around the word soften.

“So. At least if you’re doing something you like, you’d be getting closer to it. Don’t get me wrong, it blows my mind that you don’t want to ball. You’re so damn good. But if you don’t love it, you don’t love it. Life is too short not to do what you love. Or at least what you like until you find what you love.”

“You say that like it’s easy. Like it would be cake to stop playing basketball and disappoint everyone I know. Well, besides my mom. She knows I hate basketball. But nobody else does. Not even Jordan, my best friend. She’s our point guard. If we both win our games this week, you’ll meet her at the championship next weekend.”

“Wait. So, you’re gonna play?”

“Yeah, started back playing this week. Figure the playoffs is not the best time to spring the news on my team. I’m going to tell them this summer.”

More crickets and birds. Guess he’s processing. And rubbing my ribs with his thumb. He can process all he wants as long as he keeps doing that.

“Wanna know another secret?” I ask, done with talking about basketball.

“You know I do.”

“The very first kisses were blown in Mesopotamia as a way to get in good with the gods.”

“Huh?”

“Remember that secret I didn’t tell you when we were sitting up in the stands after my surgery and you started getting mad?”

“I wasn’t getting mad.”

“Yes, you were. But anyway, when you blew a kiss that day on the court, the fact popped in my head.”

“Wait, what is it again?”

“The very first kisses were blown in Mesopotamia as a way to get in good with the gods.”