My Heart's in Alabama

3 - Matt

"You almost ready?" My mom asks from the other room.

I rip open one of the many cardboard boxes stacked against my walls. I thought I had unpacked all the important stuff on day one, but every day I still seem to be missing something. This time it's my white Nikes. The ones my dad literally just got me for Christmas a few weeks ago. How did I not think of those?

"Uh, yeah, give me a second."

I check the time on my phone. We're ten minutes behind schedule. The game has probably already started by now.

"What are you looking for?"

"My sneakers."

"Oh," she says and opens up the ottoman at the end of my bed. "I put all your sneakers in here."

I look down at the jumbled mess of sneakers all thrown together in a pile and my face falls. I'm hit with an unexpected flash of what it was like back home and how different it is now, even with something so simple. I think about the shoe cabinet by the door and the way my dad would carefully place each sneaker in its own separate cubby so they wouldn't get damaged.

It makes me miss home.

"Sorry, did I overstep?"

"Um..."

I don't quite want to say it, but it does kinda feel that way. It seems silly, they're just sneakers after all, but it shows that she doesn't really know how to handle my stuff with care like my dad does.

"I mean, they'll probably get scuffed up like this..."

My mom winces at her mistake and I feel a tinge of guilt. I don't want to make excuses for her, but she was obviously trying to help and why would she know anything about sneakers? It's not like she ever wears them.

"But it's okay. I can put them away later."

"All right," she says with a slight sadness that tells me she still feels bad. "Sorry, tell me what you need and I'll help."

"It's cool. No big deal," I say and brush it off, because at this point, I really just want to move past it. "Let's get going."

💚

By the time my mom and I arrive at the arena, the seats are packed and the place is roaring. It's halfway through the first quarter and "we're" up by 6. I say "we're" loosely because I'm here at Tulane's home stadium, in their hometown, and they're my mom's alma mater, so I guess I should be rooting for them, but they're not my team. Alabama is.

My mom and I push through the crowd to find our seats. We don't have too much trouble finding where we need to be, but her eyes search the place even after we sit down. She pokes her head up, down, to the left, and to the right, almost like she's looking for someone.

"Where is Logan?" She mutters to herself, confirming my thoughts.

I probably shouldn't pry, but I'm curious and honestly, a little annoyed. This was supposed to be our time together and she's already looking for someone else.

"Who's Logan?"

"My intern," my mom says, her head still poking around. "I was hoping you two could meet. You're new around here. You could use a friend."

"Oh," I say and hope I don't show my disappointment too much.

Again, she is trying to help, but let's be real, having your mom "set you up" with a friend is a little embarrassing. Not to mention awkward. What if we have absolutely nothing in common? Then we'll both have to pretend to like each other for the sake of my mom and be forced to hang out and stuff.

Plus, I already have friends. Maybe not here, but I do have them. And it's hard to imagine anyone new could ever compete.

Man, I miss them.

"That's okay, I really don't..."

"Oh no," my mom says in a cheery, reassuring tone. "Trust me. Logan's amazing. You guys will get along great."

My mom continues to search the crowd with me getting more embarrassed by the second. I shrink down in my seat, hoping no one notices me. Especially not this Logan person.

I pull my hoodie up over my ears and escape into my phone by texting the group chat.

M: Help - my mom's trying to make me a friend.

The little typing dots pop up almost immediately and I already feel better. That is until I realize that I've opened up a flood gate I'm not sure I was ready for.

K: Oh yay! A friend :)

Before I get the chance to put a stop to it, Kiersten starts machine gun texting me a million questions.

K: What's his name?

K: What's he like?

K: Does he play football, too?

K: Does he go to your school?

B: Whitney wants to know if he's cute.

W: Just to clarify, I am asking for the benefit of the cheer team. NOT myself. 

S: You're replacing us already, huh? Wow. I thought I knew you, man.

T: Oh, get off it, Whit. 

W: You get off it.

S: I would very much like to be excluded from this narrative.

K: Um, Matty answer us please??

K: A name at least??

I give it a second to see if anyone else responds, hoping the unpredictable and fast paced nature of group chats will shift the conversation in a different direction. But the chat goes dead. Except for Kiersten, who's adamant about keeping us on subject.

K: ???

I pause for another second. I didn't anticipate this turning into something more embarrassing than it was before, but I should have guessed that my friends back home would be curious about someone new coming into my life. That hasn't happened in quite a while. If ever.

I don't want to leave them hanging, but I also want to avoid the attention as much as possible. So I shoot off a quick text saying Logan and leave it at that.

I put my phone away and return to the real world. I feel the group chat blowing up in my pocket, but I'm too overwhelmed right now to respond. I didn't want to have to think about making new friends, and I was hoping my old friends wouldn't want to either.

My mom scans the arena one last time, then slumps her shoulders.

"Hmm," she says, finally giving up. "Oh well. Your paths will cross eventually."

My mom gives me a smile, squeeze me on the leg, and turns her attention to the game. With that bullet dodged, I straighten back up in my seat, pull my hoodie back down, and do my best to enjoy the game.

Enough though it's basketball and basketball sucks.