Chapter 21 - DAVID AND HAROLDDavid finally asked the question correctly.
Not “Did you forgive Leon?”
Instead:
“What do you need from me?”
Harold looked confused.
“Nothing.”
“That easy?”
“Yes.”
David laughed.
“I spent year thinking I owe.”
“You don’t.”
“My father did.”
“Yes.”
“I inherited his silence.”
“You inherited story. What you do with it yours.”
David nodded.
They sat beneath plaque.
David said:
“I used your name as warning.”
Harold looked.
“What?”
“When Miles was kid. If somebody betrayed teammate, I said don’t be a Harold Benson.”
Harold’s eyebrows rose.
“That’s creative.”
David’s shame.
“I’m sorry.”
Harold:
“That one hurts.”
David flinched.
“Thank you for saying.”
Harold nodded.
No easy.
David continued:
“I taught him to despise you.”
“I noticed.”
“I can’t undo.”
“No.”
“I can correct.”
“Yes.”
“I have.”
“Yes.”
“Is that enough?”
Harold looked.
“Enough for what?”
“For you.”
Harold thought.
“I don’t know.”
David appreciated honesty.
Not forgiveness transaction.
Then Harold added:
“But I like you.”
David laughed/cry.
“That’s something.”
“Yes.”
They had become friends independently.
David drove Harold to appointments occasionally.
Asked, not assumed.
Harold called when needed.
This was not debt.
Mutual.
Harold helped David understand Leon from young adulthood.
Stories.
Leon once skipped practice to sit hospital.
Leon loved jazz.
Leon terrible free throws under pressure? Actually athlete but maybe.
David told Harold later-life Leon.
He became manager.
Loved gardening.
Did crossword.
Harold learned friend after estrangement years he missed.
Both exchange.
Leon becomes fuller posthumously.
One evening David gave Harold copied family photo of Leon at sixty with grandchildren.
Harold stared.
“He got fat.”
David laughed loudly.
“He did.”
Human.
Harold smiled long.
“I missed this version.”
David:
“He missed yours.”
No proof but likely Leon asked. Letters show.
Harold nodded.
Then David asked:
“Do you think he knew you still loved him?”
Harold looked.
“I hope.”
Not certainty.
Some things unresolved.
Life.
Miles watched them from court.
Jordan said:
“Crazy.”
“What?”
“You started all this because old dude hit shot.”
Miles smiled.
“I started because I was asshole.”
“Also.”
Tyler joins.
They laugh.
Miles no longer embarrassed enough to rewrite.
He uses story in coaching carefully.
Harold permission.
He tells:
“I underestimated him.”
Not “old man secretly legend” only.
Core.
At city event, teenagers ask Harold speak.
He gives 45 seconds:
“When I was young, I thought ability meant what I could do with ball. Later I learned judgment matters. At ninety, I learned people still like deciding what you can’t do before you try.”
Smile.
“Don’t do that to other people. Don’t do it to yourself.”
Applause.
No long.
Miles proud.
Then Harold adds microphone:
“And pass the ball.”
Everyone laughs.
Miles bows sarcastically.
Good.
Health stable.
Time moving.
Final restoration fully done.
Plaque under bench from Margaret also.
David sits there sometimes.
Reads “second chances.”
He tells Harold:
“Margaret smarter than all us.”
Harold:
“Yes.”
No debate.
Then Harold asks Miles a favor.
“Next month, anniversary clinic.”
“What?”
“I want you run.”
“I always.”
“No. I mean without me.”
Miles frowns.
“You not coming?”
“Maybe.”
“Why?”
“Want see if court keeps going.”
Miles looks annoyed.
“You testing?”
“Maybe.”
Miles agrees.
Clinic succeeds.
Harold watches from car? Maybe doesn't show at all. Miles initially keeps looking gate.
Then stops.
Kids need him.
After, Harold calls.
“How?”
“Fine.”
“Good.”
“You knew?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because someday I won’t come.”
Miles quiet.
Harold:
“Don’t make sad.”
“You brought death.”
“I’m ninety-one.”
Miles:
“Never measure by age.”
Harold laughs.
“Idiot.”
Transfer beginning.
May you like
Not death necessary.
Legacy without funeral.
