Just get it out. Just say it.
“But what if they don’t want to meet me?” I asked in a flurry. I could hear the tumultuousness in my voice. One moment I felt courageous, the next I was hampered by fear.
This sucked.
“Look, Marcus. I’m not going to sugarcoat this for you. They might have zero interest in getting to know you. They might not care. They might be so busy with their lives that they can’t be bothered. But this is something you want. You are trying to take a big step, wanting to connect with siblings you’ve never known, and that is brave.”
Brave.
Did I feel brave?
I wasn’t sure.
Somedays I felt like my life should have been on daytime TV.
Supposedly, my mom liked those things.
I was the long-lost half-brother . . . appearing out of nowhere . . . showing up on the doorstep of my older brothers.
“My life is a soap opera,” I muttered.
Elle’s response was swift, confident, and everything I needed to hear. “No. It’s not a soap. It’s your life. And real life is full of more drama and danger in the world than we often are willing to admit. And we have to make our way through,” she said, and her tone calmed my nerves. “Let’s talk next steps. What are you going to do?”
Details. Plans. I could focus on that. I paced again, sharing my idea about Ryan, about how I’d start with him. He was the one who’d visited my mom a lot in prison. “My dad once mentioned that one of them was closest to my mom, so I think I’ll start with him. Plus, he has a dog, so he’s out and about a lot in his neighborhood.”
“Marcus,” she said, sounding like a teacher who’d caught a student with a cheat sheet. “How do you know that?”
Shit.
“Marcus, have you been following them around?” she asked, now a judge, and I deserved that tone.
“Maybe,” I said, under my breath. “But only because I was curious. Because I wanted to know what they’re doing. I wanted to know how to approach them.”
She sighed, gentling her tone. “That’s not a good idea. It can freak people out. You need to be direct. If you want to meet them, you need to man up and go over there.”
“I know. I’m just . . .” How could I say what I really felt?
“You’re scared,” she supplied, speaking softly.
“Yes,” I said in the barest voice.
“Remember what we talked about?”
I could hear the way she’d said it, what she’d tried to teach us at the center. “Rise above,” I repeated, echoing her mantra.
“Yes. Rise above. You can be so much. If your goal is to meet the family you’ve never known, I’m behind you. But you have to stop following them. Do not let fear guide you. Rise above it.”
I drew a deep breath. “Okay. I’m going to do it. I’m going to head over to this guy’s house.”
We ended the call, and I steeled myself, ready. I could do this.
I talked to myself the whole way over, practicing my script. As I drove, as I waited at lights, as I turned corners.
When I parked.
But no one was home.
And I didn’t know if that was for the best. Maybe it was. Maybe I wasn’t ready for this crazy new step in my life. After all, what would I tell my stepmom? Angie had been good to me. Didn’t she deserve to know at some point? I’d have to tell her down the road.
For now, I called Elle and gave her the report, and she said it might take a few tries before someone was home.
But I had to keep going.
“It’s a risk worth taking,” she said, and I let those words sink in, grateful that she was behind me in this — the toughest thing I’d ever done in my life.
11
Colin
The basketball arced through the air, swirling once, then twice, around the rim and dropping with a whoosh into the basket.
“No way!” Rex stared at the ball in amazement as it bounced on the concrete of the court Tuesday afternoon.
I held my arms out wide as I stood on the free-throw line. I told you so. “Angle. It’s all angle.”
“You have got to be kidding me!” the boy said, his big eyes rounder than ever. He grabbed the ball and held it as if he were weighing it.
I wiped the beads of sweat from my brow. “Nope. Not kidding at all. You’ll have a greater chance at landing a free throw if you have your arms at this angle,” I said, demonstrating a wider placement of my arms.
Rex made a quick adjustment then threw the ball himself, watching as it sailed into the net. “Holy hell,” the teen said as the ball bounced on the court.
Rex’s younger brother, Tyler, watching from the sidelines, looked less impressed.
Rex marched over to me and slapped my palm. “I still don’t believe you, but a deal is a deal is a deal. You get to tutor me now in business math.”
I beamed. For the last year, I’d been coaching the rec league and tutoring the teens at the center in business math as part of my personal decision to devote more time to service. I’d lost out on a big deal a year ago, and had felt the first inklings of the familiar urge to bury my frustrations in liquor. Rather than give in, I’d refocused my energies, pouring my time into others. That had helped me fight the good fight and stay on the straight and narrow.
“It’s all math, man. Everything is math,” I said, grabbing the ball from the ground and dribbling it in place. “You will use math in every area of your life. Chance of hitting a free throw from one-third of the way up the court? Math. Chance of landing a slam dunk? Math. How much money do I need to pay my bills? Math. Is it worth missing class to sleep in? Comes down to math.”
“What he’s saying is—math is everything,” Tyler said.
“What? You’re on his team now?” Rex joked.
“Listen to Tyler. He knows what he’s talking about,” I said. A few years younger, Rex’s brother dabbled in basketball, but his asthma slowed him down.
“And this is the stuff you do for a living?” Rex asked.
I took aim at the net. The ball soared. “Every day. I evaluate risk. Study balance sheets. Look at profit and loss statements. And take a gamble as to whether some new technology for phones or TVs or gaming or whatever is going to change the world.” The ball slinked neatly through the basket. I tossed it to Rex, who took his shot.
“How much green did you bring home last year?” Rex asked.
I laughed, shaking my head as the younger man landed a shot.
“You’re not going to tell me?”
“No. I’m not going to tell you. But I will say this: my portfolio of companies had a twenty-four percent return, and that’s well ahead of the stock market, and it’s also ahead of the twenty percent benchmark for a venture capital firm, so there you go.”
Rex’s eyes practically turned into dollar signs. “Nice!”
“That money goes back into the portfolio. So we can invest in more companies,” I explained, dribbling the ball. Rex was eighteen and headed to community college. He didn’t know what he wanted to major in, and I was hoping he’d lean toward business. He just needed a push to see the value in the long-term.