𝐎𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐄𝐱𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 • Nika Mühl

𝐆𝐨𝐧𝐞

chapter #3

JULIE HAD BEEN sitting on the bleachers, her gaze occasionally flitting to the illuminated screen of her phone, watching the minutes tick by with the weight of expectation. Around her, the rhythmic thuds of basketballs against polished wood and the sharp whistles of the coach punctuated the air, but Julie's focus was elsewhere. After a tense half-hour wait, her phone finally pinged with a response, piercing the cocoon of her anxiety. The message was terse and to the point: "John's street in 20 minutes. Don't be late."

She glanced up, scanning the gymnasium subtly, noting that her teammates were still engrossed in drills and plays. Their dedication to practice provided the perfect cover for her to make a quiet exit. As she stood up, she was yet to notice the pair of eyes that followed her every move.

Nika's gaze had been fixed on Julie since the practice began. It was not out of admiration or curiosity but a silent vigil, an almost protective surveillance that she had unspokenly assigned to herself. Nika watched as Julie, with a practiced motion, picked up her crutches and slipped out of the building.

Outside, the fresh air hit Julie's face as she made her way down the familiar streets toward John's street. She paused momentarily to pat her jacket pocket, ensuring she had brought enough cash for the transaction. The familiar sights and sounds of the neighborhood wrapped around her like an old blanket, each step laden with a sense of déjà vu.

As she turned into the alleyway, a flood of memories rushed through her mind. The alley, with its graffiti-tagged walls and the faint odor of stale urine mixed with dampness, was a place she had frequented more times than she could count, but each visit had been a secret she kept to herself.

There, waiting with a nonchalant lean against the brick wall, was a face that had once been a comfort in darker times.

"You got it?" Julie asked with an urgency that was unusual to anyone but the person standing in front of her.

Kylie, with her sly smile and eyes that seemed to know too much, tutted in mock disappointment. "It's been years, Romano. No hello? I mean, I know you're a famous basketball player now, but I never knew you didn't know how to greet an old friend," she retorted, her voice dripping with a seductive taunt.

"Kylie, you got the stuff or not?" Julie snapped, pushing away the unwanted advances as Kylie stepped closer in an attempt of intimacy.

Kylie rolled her eyes, reaching into her pocket and producing a small, sealed bag. "You're no fun anymore," she lamented, though the playful spark in her eyes belied her words.

"Whatever," Jules replied abruptly, taking the packet and hobbling to the other side of the alley.

Kylie sighed, as much as she wanted to say she didn't care about Jules there was always a part of her that worried for the girl, in her eyes Julie wasn't the "famous 21 year old basketball player". Instead to her she was the 19 year old who came to her scared and afraid. "Jules... Why are you back again?" she asked, her voice softening with genuine worry.

Julie paused, an emotionless expression on her face as she pointed to her braced leg with the handle of a crutch. "Well, basketball's out of the option so I don't know..." she trailed off, then added, "I guess I just need a break," her voice more vulnerable than she intended.

She didn't wait for a response before she began to expertly roll the weed, her fingers nimble despite the shakiness that betrayed her underlying tension. She glanced at Kylie, a silent request for a light.

Kylie sighed, offering the lighter with a look of pity in her eyes. She watched as Julie exchanged the cash for the flame, the transaction as much about the weed as it was about seeking solace in something familiar.

With a flick of Kylie's lighter, the end of the rolled paper caught fire, casting an orange glow against Julie's face. She inhaled deeply, the smoke curling into the evening air as she leaned back against the cool wall.

Her eyes fluttered closed, and for a moment, under the influence of the rolling smoke, Julie could pretend that the world, with all its pressures and pains, was on pause. If she couldn't control anything in her life right now, at least she could pause it all. Even if it was only temporary.

The smoke danced into the dusk as Julie's breath mingled with the chill of the evening. The alleyway around her faded to a backdrop, the sounds of the city a distant symphony to her introspective solitude. The weight on her shoulders felt lighter with each puff, her worries dissipating into the ether like the smoke rings she blew.

Kylie watched her for a moment, a cocktail of emotions swirling behind her eyes. There was concern, yes, but also a trace of envy for the freedom Julie seemed to harness in her rebellion, despite the crutches that held her upright.

"You know this isn't a solution, right?" Kylie's voice broke through the haze, a sober note in the narcotic melody.

Julie's eyes opened slowly, meeting Kylie's gaze with a lucidity that suggested her mind was far clearer than one might assume. "I know," she replied quietly, the smoke trailing from her lips. "But it's something."

Kylie shook her head, her own past encounters with escapism coloring her perception. "Reprieve today, regret tomorrow. Is it worth it, Jules?" she prodded, her voice a delicate balance between accusation and compassion.

Julie let out a humorless chuckle, her eyes drifting to the sky barely visible above the alley's narrow opening. "What's worth anything anymore, Ky? I've lost the one thing that made sense to me, the one thing I was good at. Now, I'm just... drifting."

Kylie crouched down beside Julie, her movements deliberate. "You're more than basketball, more than this alley and these moments of forgetfulness. You know that, right?" Her hand hesitated but then rested gently on Julie's shoulder.

Julie's gaze returned to Kylie's, a silent acknowledgment in her eyes. "Maybe," she conceded, "but knowing and feeling are two different beasts."

They sat in silence for a few beats, the world continuing to spin around them. Then, as if on cue, the sounds of the city started to seep back into Julie's awareness—the distant laughter of kids playing streetball, the honking of impatient drivers, the rhythm of life that marched on relentlessly.

Julie took another drag, the paper between her fingers burning down to a stub. She knew Kylie's words held truth, and part of her wanted to rise above, to find a the drive to get better, the love for the world without basketball. But the chasm between desire and action was vast and daunting.

Kylie stood up, dusting off her jeans, a silent statue of tough love. "When you're ready to stop running, I'll be here, if not you know where to find me" she said, the words heavy with unspoken promise.

Julie watched as Kylie walked away, her silhouette blending into the shadows as the night claimed the alley. She was alone now, truly alone, with nothing but the echo of her thoughts and the fading high to keep her company.

As the ember of her makeshift cigarette died out, so did the temporary peace it afforded. The reality of her injury, the uncertainty of her future, and the loneliness of her current path crept back in like unwelcome shadows at the day's end.

Only when the sun began to set did Julie realise just how long she had been out here for, she pushed herself up, the crutches under her arms now feeling more like extensions of her own resolve rather than shackles of her circumstances. Kylie's words replaying in her head. The guilt slowly crawling into her.

Two years clean. Gone just like that.

Author speaks:

Sorry I had to. 🫣