Coach Me

“I love it, Mama.”

And I do. I really do. We get started right away with settling in. After collecting everything from the car, we’re back in the apartment, taking the bed set out and placing it on the bed, but not without Mama spraying a whole damn bottle of Lysol and Febreze on the mattress first.

“You don’t know who was rubbing their dirty, sweaty ass on this mattress before you,” she said when I groaned. It’s true, I guess. This is an apartment for female athletes and college kids can be wild. I suppose I’m just eager to make this room all mine.

I place my laptop on the desk and take out my rose gold Beats headphones to give the room a little more spice. I don’t have a portable speaker like Kendall, but I’ve always liked listening to music privately. I open one of the folders and take out the photo of me, Mama, and Daddy at a park. I tuck it into the corner of the mirror hanging on the wall and smile.

By the time we finish, we are starving. Mama takes out her pamphlet again as I fight a laugh at her about it. She’s going to wear that pamphlet out. She reads over the list of restaurants near campus and we decide on getting sandwiches from Jason’s Deli.

“You know who would have loved this?” Mama asks after we’ve seated.

“Who?” I ask, mouth full of turkey sandwich.

“Your father. He wouldn’t have missed this for anything.”

I stop chewing, picking my eyes up from my food to focus on her. I finally swallow, then pick up my sweet tea. “He would have been happy I chose BU. He used to talk about this school and Chapel Hill all the time, remember?” I laugh. “He didn’t care so much about track then. He just wanted me to get into a school where I’d get the best education.”

“Yep.” Mama chuckles and then she sighs. A moment of silence rains down on us. “Oh, baby…I hope you know I am so proud of you. Your father is proud of you too. I know it. You’ve worked so hard to get here.” Tears line the rims of her eyes and I look away. I don’t want to cry on my first day here. I promised myself I wouldn’t—that I’d be happy and cherish it.

“I know, Mama.”

She sniffles, sips her water, swallows, and then lets out a deep exhale. After clearing her throat, she says, “Okay. Let me stop before I ruin the mood. This is a good day. A happy one.” She peers around the deli. “This is good though, right? You think you’ll like it here?”

“I think so. They have good restaurants within walking distance. My classes are at good times. The earliest one is at eight.”

“That’s good.”

And it is. I used to wake up at six in the morning with Daddy. Seven on my own. Eight should be easy.

After we finish eating, Mama walks back to the apartment with me but there is still no sign of Kendall. Mama hangs out about an hour longer and then, before I know it, I’m standing by her car, hugging her goodbye.

“Be safe, you hear? And don’t get too crazy. I always heard how crazy college life was when Jeremy was going to school and the last thing I want is my daughter turning into a little thot.”

“I’ll be good, Mama,” I say with laugh over her shoulder. “I promise. But did you just say thot?” I pull back, looking her in the eyes as I hold her shoulders.

She smirks. “I got that from you. Ain’t that what you called the girl who kissed your friend’s boyfriend? Yeah, I heard that phone call!”

I break out in another laugh. My mom is too much. Daddy used to love her sense of humor and how she could lighten the mood anywhere she went.

After one last hug and a kiss on the cheek from my mother, she climbs into her car, reverses out of the parking space, and drives away.

I watch her go, unable to move. My eyes burn as I watch the rear lights of her Corolla fade away, and when she’s completely gone, I turn to face my apartment building.

My new home.

The start of a new era.

And a new life that I’m not quite sure I’m ready for.

TWO

My roommate Kendall is the complete opposite of me.

Kendall Ramirez is a master at hurdle racing, her favorite food is ramen (real ramen, not that fake shit in Styrofoam cups, as she likes to say it), her favorite color is lime green, and she loves getting tattoos. No, really. She’s covered in them.

“Yeah, my sister is a tattoo artist, so I used to just go to her shop when I wanted to get inked up. Got my first one when I was fifteen,” Kendall had said. She came charging into the apartment around seven. She said she’d been catching Uber rides all day to find some good ramen, and that’s how I found out she likes real ramen, not that fake shit in Styrofoam cups.