Chapter 26: U-Turn of the Heart The air inside the terminal was thick with the metallic scent of anticipation and stale coffee. I walked through security, phone-less and feeling naked, the weight of the decision crushing me as I turned around. Rich hadn't said a word since dropping me off, probably out of respect, but his silence was deafening. I was a disaster. A walking, talking, basketball-playing disaster. And I was running away from it all. But the further I walked, the heavier my feet felt. Europe. It sounded glamorous in Dev's pitch, a clean slate in a foreign land. But the reality was sinking in: I was ditching everything. My team, my family, my city, even Demitra, who was probably better off without me. I wasn't running towards something. I was running *from* something. From my problems, from myself. I pictured my mom's face as I left, the tears streaming down her cheeks. Becky, confused and clinging to my leg. Lenny, trying to put on a brave face but his eyes betraying the disappointment. Greg, who would never let me live this down. And Keithie, who probably wanted to take my spot as captain now. I couldn’t do it. I couldn't leave them like that. I reached for my non-existent phone and cursed Dev Malik. It wasn't his fault, not really. He offered me an escape route, and I jumped at it like a drowning man. But an escape wasn't what I needed. I needed to face the music, even if it sounded like a funeral dirge. My pace quickened as I exited the security checkpoint, ignoring the confused glances from travelers. I scanned the curb, spotting Rich's black SUV still idling near the drop-off zone. He was probably waiting to make sure I actually boarded the plane, like a parole officer making sure his charge didn't skip town. “Rich!” I yelled, jogging towards the car. He looked up, his expression a mixture of surprise and suspicion. "Jim? What the hell are you doing? The plane's boarding." I yanked open the passenger door and hopped in, breathless. "Turn the car around, Rich. I can't do this." Rich stared at me for a long moment, his eyes narrowed. "Can't do what? Can't leave the country? Can't play basketball? Can't face the consequences of your actions?" "All of the above," I admitted, slumping in the seat. "But mostly, I can't leave my family like that. I gotta say goodbye properly, Rich. Face to face." Rich sighed, running a hand over his close-cropped hair. "Jim, I respect the sentiment, but you're on a tight schedule. Dev pulled a lot of strings to get you on that flight. We don't have time for a family reunion." "Then make time," I said, my voice firm. "I know you're pissed, and I know this screws up your plans, but I'm not getting on that plane until I've said goodbye to my family. It's non-negotiable." Rich continued to stare at me, gauging my resolve. Finally, he let out a frustrated huff and shifted the car into drive. "Fine. But we're making this quick. In and out. No emotional speeches, no tearful goodbyes. Got it?" "Got it," I said, a wave of relief washing over me. Guilt still gnawed at me, but at least I was doing the right thing, even if it was a last-minute, poorly planned decision. The drive back to the Bronx felt like an eternity. Every red light, every traffic jam, intensified my anxiety. I imagined my family sitting at home, wondering where I was, if I was safe. I pictured my mom calling my phone, leaving desperate voicemails that I wouldn't hear until I was halfway across the Atlantic. "So, what's the plan?" Rich asked, breaking the silence. "You gonna tell them you're leaving for Europe? Tell them about the assault charges and the table-flipping incident?" I grimaced. "I don't know, Rich. I haven't thought that far ahead. I just know I need to see them, to explain things… or at least try to." "Well, you better come up with something quick," Rich said, glancing at his watch. "We're already cutting it close." As we pulled up to my apartment building, I took a deep breath, trying to prepare myself for the emotional storm that was about to erupt. I knew this wasn't going to be easy. My family wasn't exactly known for their calm and rational reactions, especially when it came to me. "Alright, I'll be waiting here," Rich said, killing the engine. "Don't take longer than fifteen minutes, Jim. I mean it." "Fifteen minutes," I repeated, unbuckling my seatbelt. "I'll be quick." I stepped out of the car and walked towards the building, my heart pounding in my chest. The familiar sights and sounds of my neighborhood suddenly felt alien, as if I was seeing them for the first time. The graffiti-covered walls, the bodega on the corner, the kids playing basketball in the park – all of it seemed surreal, like a scene from a movie. As I approached the entrance, I hesitated, my hand hovering over the buzzer. What was I going to say? How could I explain this mess to my family without breaking their hearts? Taking another deep breath, I pressed the buzzer and waited, the sound echoing in the empty hallway. After a moment, my mom's voice crackled through the intercom. "Who is it?" "It's me, Mom. Jim." There was a pause, followed by a surprised gasp. "Jim? What are you doing here? I thought…" Before she could finish her sentence, I buzzed myself in and pushed open the door, running up the stairs two at a time. I burst into the apartment, my eyes scanning the room. My mom was standing in the living room, her face pale and drawn. Becky was sitting on the couch, her eyes red and puffy. Lenny was pacing back and forth, his brow furrowed with worry. Greg and Keithie were nowhere to be seen. "Jim!" My mom rushed towards me, engulfing me in a tight hug. "What happened? Where were you? We were so worried!" "I'm okay, Mom," I said, pulling away from the hug. "I'm sorry I scared you. I just… I needed to tell you something." "Tell us what?" Lenny asked, his voice strained. "Where were you going? Rich Paul called and said something about you leaving the country?" I took a deep breath, bracing myself for the onslaught of questions and accusations. "It's true," I said, my voice barely a whisper. "I was… I was going to Europe." "Europe?" Becky exclaimed, her eyes widening. "Why? Are you going on vacation?" "It's not a vacation, Becky," I said, kneeling down in front of her. "I was going to play basketball there." "Play basketball?" Lenny repeated, his voice rising. "What about Duke? What about the NBA?" "Things changed, Dad," I said, avoiding his gaze. "After… after everything that happened with Valeria, and the café, and the arrest… I needed to get away. Dev Malik offered me a chance to play in Europe, and I took it." "Dev Malik?" My mom scoffed. "That troublemaker? What does he have to do with this?" "He's helping me," I said, defending Dev despite my own reservations. "He's got connections, he can get me on a team, away from all the drama here." "But what about us, Jim?" Lenny asked, his voice cracking with emotion. "What about your family? How can you just leave us like this?" "I'm not trying to abandon you," I said, my voice pleading. "I just… I need to figure things out. I need to clear my head, to focus on basketball without all the distractions." "Distractions?" My mom repeated, her eyes flashing with anger. "Is that what you think we are? Distractions?" "No, Mom, that's not what I meant," I said, trying to backtrack. "I just… I need some space. To deal with my issues, to get my life back on track." "And you think running away to Europe is going to solve your problems?" Lenny asked, shaking his head. "It's going to make them worse, Jim. You're going to be alone, in a foreign country, without your family or your friends." "I know, Dad," I said, my voice barely audible. "But I don't see any other way. I'm facing assault charges, my reputation is ruined, Duke might not even want me anymore. This is my only chance to salvage my career." A heavy silence fell over the room, broken only by Becky's quiet sobs. My mom was staring at me, her face a mask of disappointment and sadness. Lenny was shaking his head, his eyes filled with a mixture of anger and despair. "So, that's it?" My mom finally said, her voice trembling. "You're just going to leave us? Without even saying goodbye?" "I came back," I said, my voice pleading. "I came back to say goodbye properly." "But why didn't you tell us sooner?" Becky asked, wiping her tears. "Why did you wait until the last minute?" "I was scared," I admitted, my voice cracking. "I was scared of what you would say, of how you would react. I didn't want to hurt you." "But you are hurting us, Jim," Lenny said, his voice soft but firm. "You're breaking our hearts." I looked at my family, their faces etched with pain and confusion. I knew I was making a mistake, that I was hurting the people I loved most in the world. But I also felt like I had no other choice. I was trapped, caught between my past mistakes and my uncertain future. "I'm sorry," I said, my voice choked with emotion. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for any of this to happen." My mom stepped forward and pulled me into another hug, her tears soaking my shirt. "Just promise me one thing, Jim," she whispered. "Promise me you'll be careful. Promise me you'll stay in touch. Promise me you'll come back." "I promise," I said, clinging to her tightly. "I promise I'll call every day. I promise I'll visit as soon as I can. And I promise I'll come back, as soon as I've sorted things out." I pulled away from my mom and turned to Becky, wiping away her tears. "Don't cry, Becky," I said, forcing a smile. "I'll bring you back a souvenir, okay? Maybe a… a miniature Eiffel Tower, or a… a pair of lederhosen." Becky giggled, her tears momentarily forgotten. "Lederhosen?" she repeated, her eyes widening. "What are those?" "They're like… shorts made out of leather," I said, trying to explain. "Germans wear them. They're really cool." "Cool," Becky said, her face lighting up. "I want some." I ruffled her hair and stood up, turning to face my dad. "I'm sorry, Dad," I said, extending my hand. "I know I've let you down." Lenny hesitated for a moment, then took my hand and squeezed it tightly. "Just… be careful, Jim," he said, his voice gruff. "And don't forget where you came from." "I won't," I said, my voice firm. "I promise." I glanced at my watch, my heart sinking. Fifteen minutes were almost up. Rich was probably ready to kill me. "I gotta go," I said, grabbing my duffel bag. "Rich is waiting for me." "Wait," my mom said, her voice pleading. "Can't you stay a little longer?" "I can't, Mom," I said, shaking my head. "I have to catch my flight." "But… we didn't even get to say goodbye properly," Becky said, her voice filled with disappointment. "We just did," I said, forcing another smile. "I'll call you later, okay? We can talk for hours." I hugged my mom and Becky one last time, then turned and walked towards the door. Lenny followed me, his hand resting on my shoulder. "Take care of yourself, Jim," he said, his voice sincere. "And don't do anything stupid." "I'll try," I said, managing a weak smile. "I love you guys." "We love you too, Jim," Lenny said, his eyes filled with pride and sadness. "Come back soon." I stepped out of the apartment and walked down the stairs, my heart heavy with regret. I knew I was making a mistake, that I was hurting my family. But I also felt like I had no other choice. I had to leave, to escape the chaos and the drama and the crushing weight of my own failures. As I reached the bottom of the stairs, I paused, glancing back at the apartment door. I could still turn around, stay with my family, face the consequences of my actions. But I knew I couldn't. I had to go, to find my own path, to prove myself to the world. Taking a deep breath, I pushed open the door and walked outside, into the bright sunshine of the Bronx afternoon. Rich was waiting for me, the SUV idling at the curb. I climbed into the car, my eyes fixed on the road ahead. Europe, here I come. The ride back to the airport was silent, and even more depressing than the ride from the airport. I glanced at Rich who's jaw was tight. "I'm sorry." "You should be." I winced, looking out the window. As we drove, I thought about what my Dad had told me; not to forget where I came from. Then I remembered Demitra, and I started to second-guess everything again. What if running away was a mistake? What if I was throwing away my chance at happiness with her? But then I remembered Valeria. The betrayal, the hurt, the anger. It was all too much to deal with. I needed to get away, to clear my head. But I also knew that I was running away from my problems, not solving them. Rich pulled up to the departures curb and put the car in park. “Well, here we are,” he said grimly, turning to me. “I hope you got everything you needed to say out of your system back there because I don’t have time for another pitstop." I nodded, unbuckling my seatbelt. "I know, I know. Thanks for putting up with me, Rich. I owe you one." He scoffed. "You owe me a hell of a lot more than one, Jim. But don't worry about that now. Just focus on getting on that plane and staying out of trouble. And for God's sake, call Dr. Klein when you get there." I grabbed my duffel bag and slung it over my shoulder. "Will do. And Rich... thanks. For everything." Rich just nodded, his expression softening slightly. "Just don't screw this up, Jim. This is your last chance." I stepped out of the car and walked towards the terminal, my feet feeling like lead. The weight of my decision was crushing me, and I wondered if I was making the biggest mistake of my life. As I reached the entrance, I paused, taking one last look back at Rich and the SUV. He was watching me, his expression unreadable. Then, he gave a small nod and pulled away from the curb, disappearing into the traffic. I turned and walked into the terminal, my heart heavy with regret. I knew I was leaving behind everything I knew and loved, but I also knew that I had to do this, for myself. I had to find a way to move on, to heal, to become a better person. But as I stood there, surrounded by the hustle and bustle of the airport, a wave of panic washed over me. I was alone, scared, and uncertain about the future. And for the first time in my life, I had no idea what to do. I could see my family being happy for me, but I could also see them being sad. I could see me playing basketball again and getting to Duke, but I could also see me screwing everything up again. I was running away from everything I knew and loved. But was I running towards something better, or just running away from myself? I paused before entering. I could turn around, and go home, but then again, I have to get out of here. I am being charged with assault, and table flipping, what NBA scout would want that? "Excuse me Sir, the line is moving, please do not hold it up," A man said, snapping me back to reality. "Oh, sorry, just a bit anxious," I replied. As I was walking over to security, I paused. I needed to do one thing, one more thing. “I need to talk to Demitra," I muttered, the words barely audible above the din of the airport. I didn’t have my burner phone so there was only one thing left to do. “Excuse me sir, I have already told you twice, please stop, you are holding up the line.” I ignored the man, and pulled the fire alarm. The sounds of panic filled the entire airport. There was only one thing left to do. I ran out of the airport in search of a phone, I need to talk to Demitra one last ti