Xavier Abenojar ’26
I still see myself at the free throw line. Taking deep breaths. Dribbling once. Twice. But before shooting, I drop the ball and let it bounce away. I listen closely as the ball continues to roll out of sight. For a split second, I’m in control.
I was clueless at first. It had black and orange skin. Round. Always watching me in a way. Whether it was in the corner of my garage, in the trunk of the car, it spoke to me even if I didn’t reach out. One day I picked it up, and suddenly that next two years of my life unraveled.
The language came fast. Swish. Squeak. “Ball!”. I learned it all even though I never asked to. Every little sound fed the men in my family. They shared a huge meal while I sat at my own table, hungry. Watching them play, I saw myself being place into “their” game, not mine. Still, it was easier to dribble instead of explaining why I’m not like them. It felt normal to go against my truths instead of stating them.
The whistle only made me look forward to the next. I counted down with the clock from the first quarter, eyes already aimed towards the exit. My mind was elsewhere while my body sprinted up and down the beaming court. I did it for the nod… for the approval I’d receive from my father on the car ride home. The court became my life because I was scared of having the answers to the questions they couldn’t answer.
It only took one bad play to change the rules of the game. The ball felt heavy when it knew my hands so well. “It’s in your blood”, they said. “All boys back home in the Philippines play ball, son”. Blood… Philippines. Those two words alone lingered more than the loss. The car got hot. My eyelids lowered, tears fell. That night, I was still able to hear the ball bounce, matching the pattern of my heartbeat.
Standing at the front door, I shut it before greeting. It bangs and bangs, but I don’t answer. It had black and orange skin. Round. It called me, but I didn’t listen. My hands remain empty. I peak out the window as it hops away. I turn around and the rest of my life unravels. Freedom.