We were only temporary. My mom used to say, “Never give permanent feelings to a temporary person.” I’ve tried my whole life to understand what that meant. Sadly, now I know.

I barely made it through the holidays. If it weren’t for Jenna and Nick, I would have drowned in a pool of self-pity. They brought Dad and their entire Christmas over to my place, making sure that I had company clear through New Year’s Day, never leaving me alone. They surrounded me with love, reminding me what it feels like to have a true connection with people that truly care about me.

My heart still hurts, but I’ve been here before. Time heals, as it’s always done. I just wish it would hurry up and heal this one. It’s worse than any before it.

Nick keeps reminding me of the pressure Kyle is under and urges me to continue to do my job and go to practices and games.

“Aran, I promise; I know what he’s going through. It’s mentally tough. Just be there for him. Or at least be a visual reminder of the idiot he’s being,” he says, hugging me tight. “Don’t hide from him. Remind him every chance you get. Be your beautiful self. He has to have his own break-through but either way he decides, he’ll find his truth.”

My brother is a great man. He’s been in hell and tortured himself. I trust that he knows what he’s talking about when it comes to the male mind. That doesn’t make this journey any easier, but I believe we get what we deserve. I knew that he was going to leave, but I can’t believe he did it in such a cowardly manner, at a time when I needed him the most.

There’s practice today and a home game in two days. I need to pull my shit together so that I can face him for the first time. My new boot allows me to be on the floor now so I’ll be trading places with Kris. I’m putting myself front and center. He better get used to seeing me, because I’m not a quitter. He can walk away, and even run, but he’s going to keep bumping into me at every turn because I have dreams of my own.

Jenna picks me up and we hit the salon for some lady pampering. She gets a mommy-to-be special, which includes a mani/pedi, a cut and style, as well as a baby massage. I get the mani/pedi and some new blond highlights. I feel better, brighter, and stronger already. There’s nothing like a salon day with your sister to lift your spirits.

She comes out from her baby massage to see my new highlights. “Whoa,” she shrieks. “He’s gonna fucking die when he sees you today.”

“Let’s hope not, but I’m taking Nick’s advice and I’m going to try my best to show him what he’s leaving behind,” I confess.

We arrive at Haas Pavilion and make our way down to the floor with my equipment. Kris waves at us; he’s already situated up in the stands checking angles and zoom length. Coach Hack is on the sidelines talking to some men in suits. I wonder if they’re recruiters, high school coaches, or scouts. They take a seat down near the floor, and the players start to arrive.

Kyle is one of the last guys to hit the floor, which doesn’t surprise me. I think back to the beginning when I met him. He didn’t want any part of this, so I sense it when he hesitates in seeing me. Zooming in for pictures of some of the other players, I feel him watching me, but I pay no mind to him. I never let him catch me getting a shot of him. That’s Kris and Jenna’s job today.

Jenna has the remotes in her hand and she has been advised to aim for shots of him. She’s turned out to be a great assistant, with her timing and those remotes. Every photo helps.

I hobble around in my boot, toeing forward with only one crutch. I’ve had lots of practice over the last few weeks. My lean muscle mass is coming back into my leg now that I can use it more. The doctor keeps warning me to be careful; that any spill can break it all over again. Thank god the pain has subsided from the blood clot, but I have to continue the shots until further notice.

I’m back in my element. I love the field part of my job, and being on the same level as the players. The closer I can be to them, the better the photo turns out. This is my passion. This is where I am most comfortable. I feel like I’ve found a piece of myself again that I didn’t even know I had lost.

I’ve been to enough practices to know when it’s starting to wind down. I gather my camera bag and signal to Kris and Jenna that I’m wrapping it up. I start up the stairs, and leave Kyle behind on the floor to shoot his one hundred consecutive shots. My crew rallies at the exit doors and Jenna quickly adds, “Girl, he watched your ass sashay up every single step.”

“His loss,” Kris chimes in too.

As soon as I get home, I pour a tall glass of wine and settle in to complete today’s edits on the computer. Together, we shot over five hundred frames in a two-hour practice. I’m impressed, but damn, that’s a lot of shots to go through. The blurry ones are instantly deleted, but that still leaves over four hundred images.

I begin to sort through the other players and team shots, separating them from Kyle’s individual photos. One in particular catches my eyes. He’s going up for the rebound, and damn, he looks so good. His long, curly hair is plastered to his forehead, and his gaze is totally focused on the net. I zoom in on his face, reaching my finger out to the computer screen and running it down his straight nose. He’s got dark shadows under his eyes, like he’s not been sleeping. My stomach rolls with worry. I’m itching to pick up the phone and text him.

I reach over and grab my wine glass and down the remaining liquid to drown out the thoughts in my head. Everything hurts. My heart. My head. How did this happen? I’ve gone over our last days together in my mind a thousand and one times. He told me he was happy. He fucked me like he never wanted to leave. He held me like he never wanted to let go. What happened?

I wish he was a social media person, but he’s not. I would stalk him and try to figure it out, but most sports players with big dreams stay off social media in order to avoid jeopardizing any potential career offerings.

My phone rings and it’s Jenna calling. She wants to know if I want to go baby shopping with her, because Nick got called out of town suddenly. How can I turn that down?

We end up going to Westfield Centre for shopping, and I am about ten minutes from regretting this decision. My legs are exhausted, even with my crutches. I look over at Jenna and you wouldn’t even know she’s about to have a baby. Well, if you didn’t look at her belly that is. Her face is full of excitement, eying all the cute baby clothes and room decorations. Her skin is glowing. She turns those big blue eyes on me when she spots a gigantic stuffed giraffe.

“Look,” she says excitedly pointing to the super-sized animal. “I have to get it.” She’s practically bouncing in her shoes.

“I’m so happy to see you happy,” I tell her. “I wish Mom could’ve shared this with us. Let me get it for the little munchkin, but you’re going to have to carry it.”

“Deal,” she shakes her head in agreement. “Nick said the same thing about your mom the other day. She’s been on his mind a lot lately.”

“I’m sure it’s bothering him the closer you get to delivery,” I say in agreement. “She’ll be there in spirit though. An angel watching everything from above.” I hug her tightly before entering the store. I can’t wait to play with this baby and this giant giraffe.

We trudge through Bloomingdale’s with the giraffe and a load of bags to get to the parking garage, when I stop and see a mannequin with the prettiest black velvet and lace bra and panty set. “You should get that. It would look great on you,” Jenna whispers in my ear.

“Who the hell would I wear it for, though?” I ask bitterly. I drop the bags I am carrying to get closer to the mannequin and stretch my hand out to rub the velvet between my fingers.

“You know, there’s nothing wrong with buying things, even sexy things, just for yourself,” she advises. “Get it. I bet it makes you feel beautiful and lifts your spirits.”

My hands run through the sizes hanging there on display. I must admit that I’m a little surprised that they have it in my size. It must be a sign.

“You should go and try it on,” she says.

“Ya think? Really?” I question, rubbing my fingers over the material again.

“Yes, just to make sure it’s not itchy or something weird with it being two different fabrics together. There’s nothing worse than itchy underwear or bras that rub in all the wrong places. Go on. We aren’t in a hurry. I can wait,” she says.

We make our way back to the fitting rooms and I try on the lingerie set as she sits and waits.

“C’mon. I want to see it. Hurry up,” she hollers through the curtain.

I pull the curtain back and she snaps my picture immediately.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“Just taking a reminder pic that I can show you when you start feeling down about yourself. Because holy fucking hell, Aran. You’re gorgeous. My body has never looked like that,” she teases. “And probably never will now.” I watch her rub circles on her protruding belly.

“So, I take it that it looks okay, because it feels marvelous!” I exclaim.

“You know he’s coming back,” she says nonchalantly.

“He’d be a fool to leave the most bad ass woman in all of Oakland,” she boasts. “And…he’s still got a key to your place.”

“Oh shit,” I gasp. “I forgot about that. Considering that I didn’t give it to him in the first place. He just took it from my keys.”

“It’s not over until the key comes back,” she insists. ”He’s seen you now. He could have walked over and returned it. He didn’t. It’s not over.”

I make my purchase and we decide to get dinner back in Oakland near my place. Everything that Jenna said tonight is rolling around my head like rocks with sharp edges. I want to believe that something is going on, and he feels like he can’t share it with me. He needs time to work it out, but I don’t want to believe it.

I’m halfway to moving on. Starting this grieving process all over again would kill me. If he comes back, I’ll decide then what I need to do but until then, he’s gone in my mind. There’s no one at home to touch me, to kiss me, to eat with me, to watch TV with me, to simply talk with me—he’s gone.